In early April, the lakeside of the high mountains was immersed in the refreshing essence of spring. The helicopter landed on the island in the middle of the lake just as the twilight hour arrived.

The sunset's golden light reflected on the shimmering waves, and the wind carried the faint sound of rippling water gently tapping against the shore.

If any paparazzi were to witness this scene, they would certainly imagine the following:

The world's wealthiest man built a delicate villa on the artificial island in the golden sea for his mysterious lover. She was his greatest weakness, the only meaning and treasure in his life. He had to ensure she was never threatened by any danger. Before the sun set, the couple would take a boat out on the lake, pouring out their affections until nightfall, where they would embrace under a sky full of stars, before shedding their clothes...

"I heard from the boss lady that you’ve been having New Orleans-style grilled chicken wings as your meeting snack. I specifically requested those. You’re sure you brought the ingredients, right?" The golden-eyed man checked before even stepping out of the helicopter. In case anything was forgotten, he wanted to make sure the pilot could go back and retrieve it.

"Yes, yes, I brought it," Nemo rolled his eyes.

"I have a big appetite, so feel free to use up all the ingredients," Matthew reminded him. He knew that if the chicken wings were gone halfway through the movie marathon, Nemo wouldn’t stop to cook more. He’d just tell Matthew to eat cookies instead.

Regardless of how the media would later portray this dreamy scene when the villa on the lake was exposed, for those who knew the details, the villa was simply a secret meeting place for the survival-obsessed Matthew and his key companions. It was also a beautiful target to attract the media’s attention, while the real important facilities were hidden underwater, underground, or deep within the forest.

Matthew Grimm had even prepared for the possibility that the Lakeview Villa would be destroyed and abandoned, then rebuilt as a safe house. The interior design was simple and unpretentious, which meant it wouldn't be a loss if anything were damaged.

"A big meal is too much trouble. I’ll just make more assorted fried foods for snacks. If you’re not happy with that, don’t eat," Nemo made it clear.

The chef didn’t want to keep cooking and cleaning the kitchen repeatedly. Instead, Nemo’d prepare a large batch of ready-made food, and any leftovers could be reheated in the oven the next day. He had also brought a lot of chips, so Matthew Grimm wouldn't go hungry.

"No problem, I’ll follow your lead," Matthew agreed. He was eager to experience what he considered an ordinary person’s way of dealing with a breakup. Every move that Nemo made was interesting to him. More importantly, this impudent little chef was finally willing to treat Matthew as part of his small circle of friends.

"We meet in the living room in an hour. To keep you from sneaking a peek at movie reviews, I’ll just pick the films myself."

"Gladly accept the challenge."

So, the billionaire reclined in the study for a quick nap, while the chef leisurely prepared as many fried foods as he could within the time limit. They both took the movie marathon seriously.

In this parallel world, perhaps no one would understand that the movie marathon held special ceremonial significance for Nemo before his migration. It was almost as important as Christmas Eve or Thanksgiving dinner for Americans. Since he started living independently, on every holiday or birthday, whether it was for his family or himself, Nemo would happily prepare food and drinks for himself and watch one movie after another until he was too tired to stay awake. It was his way of rewarding himself for surviving life.

Occasionally leaving the game world and enjoying extreme solitude was another kind of happiness for Nemo, though he didn’t do it often.

Nemo had developed the habit of drinking tea on movie nights because consuming alcohol alone was not only meaningless but also easily led to drunkenness, which would undermine his goal of watching as many movies as possible. After migration and having movie nights with his roommates, although Nemo didn't go as far as he did before, he still enjoyed this brief indulgence, especially after Matthew, the billionaire, issued a challenge. Nemo was truly excited about it for the first time in a while.

The agreed-upon time arrived, and Nemo entered the living room with a large platter of fried food and grilled chicken wings, along with two cans of low-alcohol American beer.

Matthew then lowered the large screen from the ceiling and asked Nemo to choose the movie. Matthew would add it to the playlist to avoid wasting time if Nemo wasn’t familiar with the controls.

Matthew’s home theater system had every movie imaginable. He wasn't particularly interested in films; the system was meant for future encounters with all kinds of people, especially superheroes. Movies were a good way to facilitate interactions across different social classes, and now, it was serving this purpose between the world’s wealthiest man and a Chinese chef.

"Start with 2012, then World War Z, Sinking of Japan, Invasion of the Iron Worms, Independence Day, and remember to keep the order to avoid burnout. Afterward, we’ll go into the DC and Marvel superhero films, starting with Batman v Superman, followed by the director's cut of Justice League. Then, we’ll go all the way with the Avengers series. Strictly in order," Nemo looked at Matthew’s golden eyes with a very serious tone.

Matthew, fully aware of Nemo’s preferences, asked with curiosity, "Why is the order so important?"

"Because by the time we get to the middle, you’ll be too tired to comment and educate, and what’s left will just be fun special effects and fighting scenes to keep you going," Nemo was mentally prepared for a one-man battle to the end.

The essence of a movie marathon was that whoever fell asleep or got drunk first lost. So, Nemo had made it clear in advance: if Matthew claimed to be tired and passed out, he wouldn’t wake him up to continue. After all, the goal of this activity was to help people relax and take their minds off things.

Matthew, however, expressed complete confidence in his physical strength and willpower. Limit? It doesn't exist!

"Have you seen all these movies?" Matthew asked.

Nemo nodded, "What about you?"

"I’ve seen a couple, maybe one or two? Most of the titles I’ve heard of," Matthew replied.

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His use of the word "maybe" suggested that the billionaire probably didn’t focus on the plot at all. Knowing Matthew’s genius, it was unlikely he would forget a story unless he had watched them casually during a date.

"Good, at least you'll enjoy the fresh experience."

"But don't you find it boring since you already know the plot?"

"Clearly, you don’t watch movies often," Nemo pushed a can of cold beer toward Matthew. "When you spend money to enjoy a movie you’ve been excited about based on the trailer and synopsis, only to find it gets boring halfway through, with characters you hate or a terrible ending, you just want to burn down the theater! So, when healing, you have to pick movies that are easy to watch and feel good. I don’t know if you'll enjoy these, but consider it a life experience. Being disappointed is also part of the experience," Nemo philosophically said.

"I’m really interested in the movies you like," Matthew remarked.

"If you want to analyze my thoughts with this, honestly, I’m doing it to immerse myself in the future life of a citizen in Lone Star City, to strengthen my sense of crisis, and also to give you, the superhero sponsor, a chance to critique things, so you’re not too out of touch with reality," Nemo gestured for Matthew to play the first disaster film and took a bite of a chicken wing.

As the movie marathon progressed through film after film filled with screaming crowds and eventual calm, time passed. Matthew occasionally dealt with urgent matters on his laptop and responded to communication requests.

Meanwhile, Nemo had a large stack of his roommate’s Chinese homework, and whenever a boring scene came on, he would use a red pen to correct strokes and typos.

It’s just a movie marathon, no need to focus too hard—just go with the flow, the more laid-back, the better.

The two men in the Lakeview Villa enthusiastically critiqued the scenes on the screen while enjoying their beers and fried food. Matthew, chewing on salty crispy chicken and fried squid, sighed, "You Taiwanese are really decadent, inventing such evil food. The calorie abyss is worse than hell!"

He couldn’t stop eating. Matthew felt his beautiful muscles were under serious threat.

Nemo slapped away the hand of the richest man, who was trying to grab the last piece of fried squid in his bowl: " Who are Americans to judge us?"

The disaster films Nemo chose were mostly about the conflict between world billionaires, deep-state governments, large corporations, and ordinary people in the midst of a catastrophe. This led to unexpected passion in the discussions between the billionaire and the chef, both in terms of personal stances and plot points.

Gradually, as the first half of the disaster movie marathon neared its end, Matthew and Nemo spoke more slowly, their reactions becoming less sharp. The living room was filled with a lazy, peaceful atmosphere.

When the massive disc-shaped alien spaceship landed on a rooftop crowded with alien worshippers, the two movie marathon participants began yelling at each other WWE-style to distract their opponent.

"Are you getting sleepy? Don’t force it, just head to the bedroom! I can finish the whole list on my own."

"No way! I’m still wide awake! Look at you, your eyelids are about to touch your chin!"

"Better wash your eyes, you’re seeing things, poor kid!"

"Pause it, I need to use the bathroom."

"I’m going too! You forced me to drink another beer!"

During halftime, the two of them took showers and changed into pajamas before returning to the large screen, with the darkest part of the night just before dawn settling in.

Nemo had long stopped drinking beer, and Matthew, embracing the typical American habit, was desperately replenishing his caffeine levels.

"What are you drinking? Hot tea you made yourself? Give me a cup!" The billionaire noticed that Nemo wasn’t touching his fancy coffee machine and keenly observed the chef’s small movements. Nemo had no choice but to pour the remaining half of the teapot into a clean mug, add some honey, and hand it to Matthew.

"I put sleeping pills in it," Nemo couldn’t resist telling the billionaire who kept trying to steal his food.

"Thanks, you’ll see my lasting stamina," Matthew took a big sip of the hot tea and exhaled with satisfaction.

After yawning, the curly-haired chef’s eyes widened like a cat’s, which made the billionaire click his tongue in admiration.

Thus, the second half of the movie marathon continued, and the superhero theme shifted from fantasy to social realism. The focus of the discussion became more intense.

Matthew realized that Nemo’s movie marathon experience actually resembled Zen meditation, especially in terms of strengthening willpower and concentration.

The young man next to him seemed like a Zen master who had passed through countless tests, his posture relaxed, eyes fixed on the screen, watching Superman, who was weakened by Kryptonite powder, being beaten to the ground by Batman.

"I love this part," Nemo said.

"I think it's great too," Matthew agreed, after all, he was also skilled in creating weapons and gear.

The two enjoyed watching the heroes reconcile and fight together, following the typical heroic storyline until the moment Superman was temporarily killed by Doomsday.

Before continuing with the sequel, Justice League (director’s cut, of course), it was Nemo’s turn to want a coffee. Matthew, happy to finally have the chance to make it, walked over to the coffee machine and asked Nemo which kind of beans he preferred.

"Anything, but I want sugar and milk," Nemo replied. He was the kind of person who would rather die than drink black coffee.

Matthew stood by the coffee machine, waiting for the beans to be ground and extracted. The rich aroma soon filled the room as the dark liquid started to drip into the cup.

Perhaps it was from exhaustion, perhaps the endorphins flooding his system, or maybe the three beers still hadn’t fully metabolized, but Nemo felt light as if floating, immersed in a sense of security at the world's richest man’s private estate. For the first time, he felt completely relaxed.

"Speaking of batarangs, you should be careful with your Chinese business partners in the future, Matthew. Traditional Chinese martial arts movies love to use hidden weapons like leaves, twigs, or chopsticks to kill from a distance. If your partner trains assassins with such abilities and pretends to be a secretary while accompanying you to talk business, they can pass through metal detectors and grab any pen on the table to shoot like this—"

Nemo jokingly picked up a pen from the desk and threw it at Matthew’s forehead.

Matthew, sensing the unusual speed of the pen, instinctively dodged, and thanks to his excellent athletic reflexes, the pen flew past his temple and embedded itself into the stone wall behind him.

A shockwave from the impact caused Matthew to feel dizzy, and he slipped to the ground.

Startled by the unexpected turn of events, Nemo rushed over to check Matthew’s head for injuries.

A faint red mark appeared above Matthew’s temple, near the tip of his ear, but thankfully it was only slightly bleeding, with a faint burnt smell from the hair indicating just how dangerous the situation had been.

"That pen you threw really got stuck deep in the wall."

Without Matthew saying anything, Nemo could already see it. The pen had only embedded halfway, but that wasn't what was important to him at that moment.

"I almost killed you just now! Didn’t you feel anything?"

"Maybe I’m used to being sniped. You didn’t do it on purpose. I was more amazed by how awesome my dodge had been," Matthew said, suddenly grabbing Nemo’s wrists, pulling him upright. Caught off guard, Nemo found himself in an awkward position with his arms lifted high.

"Try to break free," Matthew said gently, though it was still an order.

Guilt flooding his mind, Nemo twisted his wrists to comply, but the conclusion was clear: he hadn’t turned into Popeye.

" It’s about the same as the strength you showed in that physical test, maybe even a little weaker," Matthew remarked, using his grip to assess.

Of course, Nemo was exhausted now, and this posture was difficult to resist, but Matthew seemed to want to see him struggle more seriously. Like an iron clamp, his grip didn’t budge. Matthew exerted more force, and Nemo immediately felt his heels lift off the ground. The billionaire’s natural height and post-training physique made his strength terrifying.

Nemo gave in and struggled again, realizing that with his wrists deliberately held apart, it was nearly impossible to break free using technique, let alone brute force.

"Give up, let go of me, or I’ll kick you," Nemo said helplessly.

Matthew clearly didn’t want Nemo to use his kicking power on him. He gently let go, allowing him to stand firm, only to immediately grab Nemo’s right hand and examine it closely.

"Hmm, no signs of partial beast transformation, no sudden muscle or bone mutation, it’s your regular hand," Matthew quickly observed, pushing Nemo’s eyelid up to check. "Your pupils and sclera look normal. Your pulse sped up when I grabbed your wrist, but it’s still within a normal range."

"I don’t even know what’s going on myself," Nemo said, grasping Matthew’s sleeve to confirm. "How about you? Are you alright?"

"I can still lift you! No problem at all!" Matthew smiled, noticing the strength effect had completely faded, just like Nemo’s earlier near-fatal strike.

"So, no more superpowers now? Was that your first burst?" Matthew asked.

Nemo rubbed his sore wrist and nodded vigorously.

"I just want to pretend like nothing happened, take a nap, and hope that when I wake up, you'll be as lost in memory as I am, Matthew," Nemo said, slumping on the sofa, his whole body enveloped in a sense of despair.

"That statement actually scares me. Come on, be real! You’re not the only one awakening superpowers. Angie’s so strong now! You don’t need to worry about monsters threatening you, you’ll be able to protect everyone around you," Matthew tried to reassure him. But as he said it, he felt strange—wasn't he supposed to congratulate Nemo at a time like this? But Nemo seemed genuinely frightened and upset, so Matthew just went with it and tried to calm him down.

Nemo responded by curling up on the couch and closing his eyes, as if planning to fall asleep right there.

"Tomorrow... oh, it's already early morning, we can talk about it later. At least go sleep in the guest room. The boss lady, Sunny, mentioned that your health isn’t the best, and sleeping here might give you a cold," Matthew said, also exhausted, needing time to clear his head and deal with Nemo’s sudden superpower revelation.

" Don’t feel like moving. The sofa’s just fine."

"Nemo, the guest room is upstairs, just a few steps away," Matthew said, but as soon as he spoke, Nemo suddenly opened his eyes, startling him.

"Your wound needs medicine, but I’m really tired..." Nemo’s fatigue seemed more like his brain had been drained, leaving him in a state of exhaustion.

"It’s probably the energy drain from your sudden superpower awakening. A good sleep should help. I can handle this small injury myself, just rest well and don’t overthink it," Matthew said, gently pressing Nemo back into a resting position. Nemo slowly closed his eyes again, still in a defensive posture as he fell asleep.

Matthew, after lightly rubbing his side head injury, felt a sharp pang of pain and looked at the sleeping young man on the sofa. His lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile.