In the early morning, sunlight spilled through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a crooked golden line across the floor.
Gwen sat up in bed, stared at that golden line for three seconds, and then let out a massive yawn.
Panda eyes.
She definitely had two panda eyes right now.
It was already two in the morning when she returned from the docks last night, and she couldn't fall asleep no matter how she tried. Her mind was filled with those images—Murakami's blade, Daredevil's batons, The Punisher's gunfire, and the look in her father's eyes as he stood in the moonlight watching her.
He said, "Thank you."
But when he said those two words, there was clearly something else in his eyes.
Gwen rubbed her eyes and wobbled out of her room.
Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, with a few stray strands sticking to her cheeks, carrying the lethargy of someone who hadn't quite woken up. Wearing a loose nightgown and barefoot, she drifted toward the dining table like a sleepwalking cat.
Helen was busy in the kitchen. Hearing the noise, she poked her head out and couldn't help but laugh when she saw her daughter's state.
"Oh, whose little panda is this?"
Gwen gave a vague grunt in response, plopped down at the table, and buried her face in her arms.
George sat opposite her with a newspaper in hand, but his gaze wasn't on the paper.
He was looking at his daughter.
Looking at her messy blonde hair, her tired profile, and the small stretch of smooth skin visible on her arm—no wounds, not even a scratch.
That figure from last night, the blonde hair peeking out from the edge of the mask, and that blurted-out "Dad"—
Countless thoughts surged in George's heart, but he showed nothing on his face.
"What is it?" he spoke up, his tone casual. "Didn't you go to the movies yesterday? Didn't it let out at nine o'clock?"
Gwen lifted her head from her arms, momentarily stunned.
"Dad, how did you know it let out at nine?"
George raised an eyebrow.
"Did you forget what I do for a living?"
Gwen: "..."
Right.
He was a Police officer.
Even a captain.
She actually asked such a question; she must be stupid from sleep deprivation.
"Besides," George added slowly, "that cinema has surveillance at the entrance. I just need to check it to know when you came out."
Gwen's drowsiness instantly half-vanished.
"You checked the surveillance on us?!"
"Just kidding." The corner of George's mouth curved into a very slight arc. "But your expression is quite interesting."
Gwen glared at him, not knowing whether to be angry or to laugh.
Helen came out of the kitchen with fried eggs and bacon. Seeing the father and daughter like this, she asked with a smile, "What are you two talking about so early in the morning?"
"Nothing," George took the plate. "Just talking about movies."
Helen's gaze shifted between the two of them. She didn't ask further, only smiled and sat down beside Gwen.
Gwen lowered her head to eat, trying her best to look natural.
But her peripheral vision was constantly focused on George.
The way he looked at her today seemed a bit different from previous days.
It wasn't that scrutinizing, suspicious look.
It was a more complex look, one she couldn't understand.
Gwen felt a faint sense of unease in her heart.
But she didn't dare ask.
The TV was on, and the morning news was just beginning.
J. Jonah Jameson's face appeared on the screen, as impassioned as ever.
"Look at this, citizens of New York! Look at what that so-called 'hero' did again last night!"
The screen cut to Warehouse Number Three at the Brooklyn Docks—Police cars, cordon tape, and Police officers going in and out. There were also several blurry photos taken by someone with a phone last night.
Gwen recognized herself in those photos at a glance—the red and blue figure fighting the ninjas.
And Daredevil.
And The Punisher.
Jameson's voice continued: "Spider-Man and her accomplices—a freak in a devil mask and a lunatic with a skull on his chest—had a massive brawl at the Brooklyn Docks last night! How much damage did they cause? How many innocent citizens did they terrify?"
The screen switched to another channel, another host.
"According to our reporter, during last night's operation, the Police successfully dismantled a stronghold of an international criminal organization in New York. The Hand—this mysterious organization from the East—has seen its core members captured, with the exception of Murakami, who remains at large."
The screen switched to a third channel.
"Kun-Lun Trading Company was exposed today for suspected human trafficking and organ smuggling. The Police have seized all its assets in New York..."
Gwen bit into her toast, watching the news with complicated feelings.
Jameson was still scolding her.
But other media outlets had begun reporting the truth.
Although no one acknowledged she was the one who saved them, the people who were rescued—they knew.
That was enough.
Gwen finished breakfast, changed into her school uniform, and headed out with her backpack.
As she reached the door, she glanced back.
George was still sitting at the table, watching the TV.
But his gaze didn't seem to be on the screen.
"Dad?"
George snapped out of it and looked at her.
"Be careful on the way."
Gwen nodded and pushed the door open to leave.
The moment the door closed, she heard George let out a soft sigh.
Peter was already waiting at the door.
When he saw her come out, his eyes lit up.
"Morning, Gwen."
Gwen looked at him and suddenly smiled.
After they had experienced such a harrowing event together last night, this morning he could still stand here as if nothing had happened, smiling and saying "morning" to her.
This feeling was truly good.
"Morning, Peter."
The two walked toward school side by side.
When they reached the street corner, Peter quietly reached out and took her hand.
Gwen was startled for a moment, then gently squeezed back.
The early morning sun shone on them, warm and cozy.
The smoke and blood of last night seemed to have been washed clean by this sunlight.
Midtown High School.
As soon as Gwen walked through the school gate, she was intercepted by Mary Jane.
"Gwen!"
Mary Jane's eyes were startlingly bright as she grabbed Gwen's arm and dragged her to the side.
"Wait, wait, wait—what's wrong?"
Mary Jane dragged her to a corner, crossed her arms, and looked at her with an interrogating stance.
"Gwen," she said, "did you two go on a date yesterday?"
Gwen's heart skipped a beat.
"That... I..."
"You even went to the movies," Mary Jane continued. "'penguins of madagascar'."
Gwen's eyes widened.
"We all know."
"Know??" Gwen's voice went up an octave. "How do you know?"
Mary Jane smiled, a meaningful smile.
"Of course someone told us."
Betty popped out from the side, leaning in with a face full of gossip.
"And about Peter confessing to you the day before yesterday~"
Gwen's face instantly turned red.
"Who... who said that..."
"Everyone knows." Glory appeared as well, pushing up her glasses and adding a calm final blow.
Gwen felt like her entire body was about to catch fire.
She looked at Mary Jane, then at Betty, and finally at Glory.
"Is it Harry?" she asked. "Did Harry tell you?"
Glory opened her mouth, just about to say "Harry brought us—" when Mary Jane clamped a hand over her mouth.
"That's not important!" Mary Jane said with a laugh. "What's important is that you two are finally together!"
Gwen's face was flushed, and she didn't know what to say.
Betty leaned in with a look of relief: "Our Gwen finally has someone who wants her."
"What do you mean 'finally has someone who wants her'?" Gwen glared at her.
Mary Jane laughed and patted her shoulder.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing you," she said. "Rehearsal will end early today. Go on your date."
"Huh?"
"It's your first love, after all," Mary Jane winked. "Gotta leave more time for you two."
Gwen opened her mouth to say "no need," but seeing Mary Jane's sincere gaze, she swallowed the words.
"...Thank you."
Mary Jane smiled and took her arm, heading toward the school building.
"Let's go, let's go, we're going to be late!"
Gwen was dragged along, glancing back once.
Peter was still standing at the school gate, looking over.
Finding her looking back, he was stunned for a moment and then waved.
Gwen waved back.
Then she was dragged into the school building by Mary Jane.
Gwen spent the day in a daze.
She zoned out during class and was called on by Mrs. Winterhalter, nearly failing to answer. Between classes, she was surrounded by classmates asking, "I heard you and Peter are together." During lunch, she was cornered by Betty, who insisted on hearing the details of the date.
Gwen felt like she had been thrown into a giant vortex of gossip and couldn't climb out.
But she didn't hate the feeling.
In fact, she kind of liked it.
Gwen left the afternoon rehearsal early.
When Mary Jane pushed her out of the music room, she specifically reminded her: "Have fun, no need to rush back!"
Gwen stood in the hallway, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
But when she saw Peter walking over from the library, that feeling vanished.
Only a bit of nervousness and a bit of anticipation remained.
"Let's go." Peter walked up to her and reached out his hand.
Gwen looked at that hand, smiled, and took it.
The two walked out of the school gate and into the sunset.
"Where to?" Gwen asked.
Peter thought for a moment.
"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "I just wanted to walk with you."
Gwen looked at him and suddenly smiled.
"Then let's just walk."
The two walked slowly down the street, hand in hand, neither of them speaking.
The sunset stretched their shadows long, overlapping like a painting.
When they reached that familiar street corner, Gwen suddenly stopped.
"Peter."
"Hmm?"
"About last night," she said softly, "thank you."
Peter was stunned: "For what?"
"Thank you for being with me," Gwen looked at him. "Thank you for staying with me in the earpiece. Thank you for worrying about me."
Listening to these words, Peter's ears slowly turned red.
"I... I didn't really do anything."
"You did a lot," Gwen said seriously. "You helped me find clues, helped me design the suit, and accompanied me to dangerous places. I couldn't have done it without you."
Peter looked at her, his eyes shining.
"Gwen," he said, "I went with you not because I wanted to help you be some hero."
"Then why?"
Peter took a deep breath.
"Because you were there," he said. "Where you go, I go. It's that simple."
Gwen looked at him, suddenly feeling her eyes sting slightly.
She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a light kiss on his lips.
It was very light.
As light as a falling leaf.
Then she took a step back and looked at him with a smile.
Peter stood frozen in place, as if struck by lightning, motionless.
It took several seconds for him to react.
"You... you..."
Gwen tilted her head and looked at him.
"I what?"
Peter opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.
Finally, he smiled.
That smile was warmer than the sunset.
He reached out and pulled Gwen into his arms.
Gwen leaned against his chest, listening to his powerful heartbeat.
Thump. Thump.
It slowly overlapped with her own heartbeat.
The sunset enveloped the two of them in a golden glow.
In the distance, there was the sound of cars passing, people talking, the sounds of life.
But at this moment, Gwen couldn't hear any of it.
She only heard their two heartbeats.
NYPD Headquarters, George Stacy's office.
The press conference had just ended. George stood by the window, looking at the sunset outside, holding a cup of cold coffee.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
Arthur walked in with a file in his hand.
"Bro—Captain," he corrected himself, "the report is ready."
George took the file and flipped through it.
"All twenty-three people were rescued," Arthur said. "The Hand's strongholds in New York have basically been wiped out. Except for Murakami, who is on the run, everyone else is in custody."
George nodded.
Arthur looked at him, hesitating for a moment.
"Bro," he lowered his voice, "at the scene last night, I think I heard that Spider-Man shout..."
George's hand paused for a moment.
But he showed nothing on his face.
"Shout what?"
Arthur opened his mouth, but finally shook his head.
"Nothing. I probably misheard."
George didn't speak.
Arthur turned to leave, but looked back at the door.
"By the way, how is Gwen doing lately? Haven't seen that girl in a while."
George's back stiffened slightly.
"She's fine," he said, his voice very calm.
Arthur nodded and pushed the door open.
Only George was left in the office.
He stood by the window, watching the sky grow darker outside.
That sentence echoed repeatedly in his mind—
"Dad."
That voice was soft and urgent, blurted out in the chaos.
But that voice, he had listened to it for seventeen years.
He wouldn't mistake it.
George closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
Outside the window, night gradually fell.
On the distant street, there were two small figures, hand in hand, walking slowly.
George couldn't see them.
But he knew his daughter was somewhere in that city.
With that boy named Peter.
Like an ordinary high school student.
He didn't know whether to be happy or worried.
He only knew that there were some things he needed to figure out.
No matter what the truth was.
The sun set, and night fell.
The nights in New York were never quiet.
But tonight, they seemed a bit gentler than usual.