morning Sun filtered through the gaps in the maple leaves, painting mottled light and shadows on the ground. Gwen pushed open her front door and took a deep breath of the autumn-scented air.
She was wearing a white collared shirt with a navy blue knit vest over it, a dark gray knee-length skirt, and a pair of black low-heeled over-the-knee boots. Her golden ponytail was tied high, looking neat and refreshing.
Just as she stepped down from the porch, Peter walked up to meet her.
He was dressed more formally than usual today—a light blue shirt, dark casual trousers, and his hair had been styled; he looked quite spirited.
"Gwen!" He walked over quickly, his face full of irrepressible excitement. "I have good news for you. I got a job!"
Gwen paused for a moment.
A job?
She remembered that Peter had spent quite a bit of money making that new suit for her. Although he never mentioned it, she knew those materials weren't cheap.
"Peter..." she started, wanting to say something, but Peter had already continued.
"Guess what job it is?"
Gwen looked at his bright eyes and thought about it.
"Hmm... did Harry introduce you? Did you get an internship at Osborn?"
Peter shook his head.
"No. I've already troubled Harry enough; I don't want to keep relying on him."
Gwen thought again.
"Did you get Norman Osborn's approval? I remember your nanotechnology research report—didn't he think highly of it?"
Peter's smile stiffened for a moment.
"Uh..." He scratched his head. "Is it possible he was just being polite?"
Gwen looked at him and couldn't help but laugh.
"Then I can't guess it."
Peter took a deep breath, as if announcing some major news.
"I got a job as a photographer," he said. "Taking photos of Spider-Man."
Gwen was about to drink her milk, but when she heard this, she spat it out.
"Cough, cough, cough—"
She choked, her face turning bright red, and she stared at him with wide eyes.
"Um... J. Jonah Jameson's Daily Bugle?"
Peter paused for a moment.
"How did you know?"
Gwen wiped the milk from the corner of her mouth, a sense of absurdity welling up in her heart.
How did she know?
Of course she knew.
In all the Spider-Man stories of her past life, Peter Parker always made extra money by taking photos of Spider-Man for the Daily Bugle. This was a classic trope, a setting, it was—
Gwen silently completed the thought: Is the plot starting to correct itself automatically?
"I... guessed," she said vaguely. "J. Jonah Jameson is always yelling at Spider-Man; he definitely needs someone to take photos of her."
Peter nodded, not suspecting anything.
"Right! I found out the Daily Bugle was looking for a photographer specifically for Spider-Man, so I went. They hired me on the spot!"
He took out his phone to show her the email.
"Look, the price is set—100 to 300 dollars for a regular set of photos, and if it's an exclusive or front-page shot, 500 to 1000 dollars each!"
Gwen looked at the email, a complex mix of feelings in her heart.
She was certainly happy for Peter. She knew his family's situation; the income of Uncle Ben and Aunt May wasn't generous, and this money would be a huge help.
But—
Taking photos of Spider-Man?
She was Spider-Man.
The person he wanted to photograph was her.
"Then..." she started, her voice a bit airy, "I'll be your model? I can pose however you want to shoot."
Peter looked at her with a "what are you talking about" expression.
"That would be too fake," he said. "I have to follow you—I mean, follow Spider-Man—and take real, authentic shots. That's the only way the photos will be natural and worth money."
Gwen opened her mouth.
He was right. If the photos were all posed, it would eventually be discovered.
But just the thought of Peter having to "follow" her—following her as she swung through the night sky of New York, following her as she infiltrated gang strongholds, following her as she fought those villains—
"Peter," she lowered her voice, "that's very dangerous."
Peter looked at her and said seriously,
"I know. But I'll be careful. And—"
He paused, his ears turning slightly red.
"I want to help you. Not just as backup, I want to... truly participate."
Gwen looked at him, a complex emotion welling up inside her.
This boy was willing to do such a dangerous thing for her.
"Let's go," she took his hand, "we're going to be late."
The two walked toward the school side by side.
When they reached the school gate, Mary Jane and the other two were coming from the other direction.
Seeing them walking hand-in-hand, Betty was the first to whistle.
"Wow! So sweet early in the morning~"
Mary Jane smiled and leaned in, looking them up and down.
"Let me see, let me see—hand-in-hand, going to school together, is this going public?"
Gwen's face heated up slightly.
"We've always been public."
"That's not the same." Glory pushed up her glasses, rarely joining in the teasing. "Before, it was 'childhood friends'; now, it's 'a couple.' The nature is different."
Peter's ears turned red from what they said, but he still held Gwen's hand tightly without letting go.
Mary Jane watched their reaction and nodded with satisfaction.
"Alright, alright, I won't tease you anymore. Hurry inside, we're going to be late."
The group walked into the school gate, laughing.
The sunlight shone on them, casting long shadows.
In English class, Gwen rested her chin on her hand and stared at the blackboard, but she didn't hear a single word.
Her mind was on something else.
What Peter had just said—"following Spider-Man to take photos."
This meant that in the future, when she was in action, Peter would be on the scene.
Up close.
The dangerous kind.
She had to find a way to protect him.
And another thing—
Spider-Man's blood.
Norman Osborn's illness.
Gwen silently sorted through the memories of her past life.
In the comics, Norman Osborn had indeed studied Spider-Man's blood. He had long collected data on Spider-Man—rapid healing, anti-poison, anti-radiation, surviving fatal injuries. He found that there were self-healing genes from a mutated spider in Spider-Man's blood, which could repair damaged DNA and reverse cell necrosis.
It was a perfect match for the Osborn family's hereditary disease.
If this was true—
Gwen's hand tightened slightly.
Then her donating some blood wasn't out of the question.
At least—
She paused and silently completed the thought: At least there wouldn't be a Green Goblin anymore.
That crazy, armored Green Goblin who almost killed Spider-Man.
The Green Goblin who led Harry down a path of no return.
If she could stop all this with a little blood—
She was willing to try.
But the premise was that she couldn't expose her identity.
When drawing blood, she had to be the masked Spider-Woman.
Not Gwen Stacy.
She couldn't let anyone know her identity. Especially Norman Osborn. That man was too smart, too dangerous.
And there was also Silk.
That woman was definitely watching.
If she found out that her blood could really cure the disease, who knew what she would do.
Gwen rubbed her temples.
Things were getting more and more complicated.
"Gwen."
Peter's voice came from the back row, very soft.
Gwen snapped out of it and tilted her head slightly.
Peter pointed to the front with his pen.
Gwen looked up, right into the gaze of Mrs. Winterhalter.
The old lady was looking at her over her glasses.
"Gwen," she said, "you answer this question."
Gwen stood up and answered the question fluently.
Mrs. Winterhalter nodded, signaling her to sit down.
Gwen breathed a sigh of relief and secretly looked back at Peter.
He was looking down, pretending to read, but his ears were red.
Gwen couldn't help but laugh.
The bell rang, and the classroom instantly became lively.
Harry walked over and sat down next to Peter.
His expression was a bit better than yesterday, but there was still a trace of fatigue in his eyes.
"Peter," he said softly, "about what we talked about yesterday..."
Peter looked at him, then looked at Gwen.
Gwen nodded, signaling him that it was okay.
Peter turned back and lowered his voice.
"Harry, I'll find a way."
Harry gave a bitter smile.
"I know it's hard. That Spider-Man... we can't get in touch with her."
Gwen listened to their conversation, thinking silently:
You can get in touch.
I'm right here.
You just don't know it.
"Maybe," she said, "Spider-Man has her own considerations. If she's willing to help, she'll appear."
Harry looked at her, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"Do you think she'd be willing?"
Gwen was silent for a second.
"I don't know," she said honestly. "But if she knows it's saving a life, maybe she will."
Harry nodded, not asking any more questions.
After school, Gwen and Peter walked home together.
Walking to that familiar street corner, Peter suddenly stopped.
"Gwen."
"Hmm?"
Peter looked at her and said seriously,
"About Harry's situation... if you don't want to do it, don't do it."
Gwen paused.
"Don't you want to save his father?"
"I do," Peter said, "but I don't want you to take risks. That woman Silk is too dangerous; who knows what she wants to do with your blood."
Gwen looked at him, a warmth welling up in her heart.
"Peter."
"Hmm?"
"If I go to donate blood," she said, "I'll be very careful. I won't let anyone know it's me."
Peter frowned.
"But—"
"And," Gwen interrupted, "if it can save Norman Osborn—"
She paused, swallowing the second half of the sentence.
—then there won't be a Green Goblin.
This sentence, she could only say in her heart.
"It can save a person," she rephrased. "Don't you think it's worth a try?"
Peter was silent for a few seconds.
"It's worth it," he said. "But only if you're safe."
Gwen smiled.
"I'll be safe. I promise."
Peter looked at her, his eyes full of worry, but finally nodded.
"Then I'll be with you."
Gwen held his hand.
"Okay."
The sunset cast their shadows long, overlapping, like a painting.
In the distance, the silhouette of Fisk Tower loomed in the twilight.
Gwen glanced in that direction, then looked away.
She had to go out tonight.
But for now—
She just wanted to walk this road home with Peter.