The Daily Bugle editorial department.
Peter stood at the entrance, taking a deep breath.
Noisy sounds came from inside the door—telephones ringing one after another, printers buzzing, someone shouting "The deadline is almost here," and others arguing loudly about something.
The air was filled with the smell of ink and the bitter aroma of coffee.
Peter gripped the envelope in his hand and pushed the door open to enter.
The editorial department was messier than he had imagined.
The desks were piled high with documents, the walls were covered in various newspaper clippings, and several editors were typing frantically in front of their computers.
In the corner, an old coffee machine was making a gurgling sound.
A young man wearing glasses looked up.
"Who are you looking for?"
"Uh..." Peter cleared his throat. "Mr. J. Jonah Jameson. I'm Peter Parker, we had an appointment."
The young man pointed to the office at the very back.
"Over there. Knock."
Peter walked through the chaotic editorial department and arrived in front of that office door.
The door was made of frosted glass, and printed on it were the words: Editor-in-Chief J. Jonah Jameson.
He knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
Peter pushed the door open and entered.
The office was even messier than the outside.
The desk was piled with photos and documents, and the walls were plastered with newspapers with various headlines—every front page featured Spider-Man, and every headline was criticizing him.
A man was sitting behind the desk, shouting at the phone.
"...I don't care what that lawyer says! The Daily Bugle has its own stance! We are going to expose the true face of that spider-freak!"
He slammed the phone down and looked up.
J. Jonah Jameson.
Gwen often saw him on TV.
But the real person was more impactful than on TV—graying hair, thick eyebrows, and a pair of eyes wide open like copper bells.
He looked Peter up and down.
"You're that new photographer?"
Peter nodded nervously.
"Yes, Mr. J. Jonah Jameson. I'm Peter Parker, and I have something—you'll definitely want to put it on the front page of the Daily Bugle."
J. Jonah Jameson raised an eyebrow and pointed with his chin at the chair in front of him.
"Sit down. Let me see."
Peter quickly sat down, took the photo out of the envelope, and placed it carefully on the desk.
It was the one he took last night—the moment Gwen saved that child.
She was holding the child with one hand and shooting a strand of Silk with the other to stop the out-of-control car.
The background was filled with mist, and moonlight shone through the clouds, illuminating her White combat suit.
J. Jonah Jameson picked up the photo and stared at it for a few seconds.
His expression was complicated.
It was as if he wanted to curse, but had to admit that the photo was well taken.
"Hmm." He put down the photo. "I'll give you two hundred."
Peter was stunned for a moment.
"Uh... Mr. J. Jonah Jameson, this is different from what we agreed on..."
J. Jonah Jameson glared at him.
"What agreement? Who agreed with you?"
Peter opened his mouth.
"It's just... when I applied, you said normal photos were one hundred to three hundred per set, and if it was exclusive or front page—"
"That's the theoretical price." J. Jonah Jameson interrupted him. "Theoretical, understand? In reality, it depends on the quality of the photo."
He looked at that photo again.
"...Fine, I'll give you three hundred. This is the standard freelance rate."
Peter wanted to say something, but seeing J. Jonah Jameson's "if you bargain again, you get nothing" expression, he swallowed his words.
J. Jonah Jameson counted out three bills from the drawer and slapped them on the desk.
Then he pressed the intercom button.
"Betty! Come in for a second!"
A red-haired woman pushed the door open and entered—it was Betty Brant, J. Jonah Jameson's secretary.
Of course, not the Betty in Gwen's band, but another Betty.
"Editor-in-Chief, what is it?"
J. Jonah Jameson handed the photo to her.
"Tear up the front page and use this photo. Headline—'Spider-Man: Hero or Menace? Daily Bugle Exclusive Photo'."
Peter was stunned.
"Menace?" He blurted out. "She was protecting that jewelry store at the time, and she even saved that child—"
J. Jonah Jameson turned his head and glared at him.
That look made Peter swallow the rest of his words.
"Listen, kid," J. Jonah Jameson said, enunciating every word. "You're responsible for taking the photos, and I'm responsible for writing the headlines. Got it?"
Peter looked at him, then at Betty. Betty gave him a "don't talk back" look.
"...Okay, sir."
J. Jonah Jameson nodded with satisfaction and waved his hand to signal he could leave.
Peter put away the three bills and exited the office.
When he walked out of the Daily Bugle building, he let out a long breath.
He had the money.
Although it was less than he expected, it was at least his first income.
But that headline—"Menace"?
Gwen was clearly there to save people.
Peter shook his head and walked in the direction of home.
The next morning, just as Gwen walked out of her house, Peter came up to meet her.
His expression was a bit complicated, as if he had something to say but didn't know how to start.
"What's wrong?" Gwen asked.
Peter was silent for two seconds, then took those three bills out of his pocket.
"Money from selling the photo."
Gwen took it and counted.
"Three hundred?"
"Yeah." Peter nodded. "He said this is the standard freelance rate."
Gwen looked at him, waiting for what came next.
Peter indeed continued.
"But do you know what? He's going to put the photo on the front page, and the headline is—" He paused, repeating it with some difficulty, "'Spider-Man: Hero or Menace?'"
Gwen was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter.
"What are you laughing at?" Peter was a bit anxious. "He's insulting you! Calling you a menace!"
Gwen shook her head with a smile.
"Peter, J. Jonah Jameson insults me on TV every day; I'm used to it. If he ever praised me, that's when I'd find it strange."
Peter looked at her, his expression still a bit unhappy.
"But you were clearly saving people..."
Gwen patted his shoulder.
"I know. You know too. The people I saved know too. That's enough."
Peter was silent for a few seconds, then sighed.
"Fine." He said. "But next time I'll try to sell it for more. Three hundred is really too little."
Gwen thought about it.
"Peter, do this—next time you go, start by asking for one thousand."
Peter was stunned.
"One thousand?"
"Yeah." Gwen nodded. "If you ask for a higher amount, he'll start negotiating down. If you ask for three hundred, he'll push it down to two hundred. If you ask for a thousand, he might give you five hundred."
Peter blinked, as if digesting this strategy.
"There's such a thing?"
Gwen laughed.
"This is called negotiation skills. People like J. Jonah Jameson, if you don't bargain with him, he'll think you're easy to bully."
Peter nodded thoughtfully.
The two walked side by side towards school.
After walking for a while, Gwen suddenly remembered something.
"Right, regardless, this counts as your first pot of gold."
She looked at him with a smile.
"Let's go celebrate! My treat."
Peter looked at her, his lips slowly curling up.
"Your treat?"
"Yeah." Gwen nodded. "Although it's only three hundred, it's money you earned through hard work. It's worth celebrating."
Peter thought about it.
"Then... shall we go eat burgers?"
Gwen laughed.
"Okay."
After school, the two went to that burger shop near the school.
The shop wasn't big, but it was very clean. A few plastic tables and chairs, and the walls were covered with various graffiti and sticky notes. The owner was a chubby middle-aged man; seeing them come in, he greeted them warmly.
"Yo, Peter! Long time no see! This is—"
"Gwen." Peter said. "My girlfriend."
The owner's eyes lit up.
"Girlfriend? Not bad, kid!" He gave Peter a thumbs up. "Today's burgers are on me!"
Peter waved his hands quickly.
"No, no, we'll pay for ourselves—"
"Don't be polite!" The owner laughed and pressed him into his seat. "First time bringing your girlfriend here, it's a must!"
Gwen looked at Peter being pressed down into his seat and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
In the end, the owner really didn't let them pay, and even gave them two extra servings of fries.
The two sat by the window, and the sunlight shone in through the glass, feeling warm.
Peter took a bite of his burger and suddenly asked.
"Gwen."
"Hmm?"
"You say... that headline, why would J. Jonah Jameson write it like that?"
Gwen thought about it.
"Because people will read it." She said. "News that praises people no one reads; news that insults people gets traffic."
Peter frowned.
"That's not fair."
Gwen laughed.
"This World is inherently unfair."
She paused.
"But it doesn't matter. We just need to do what we think is right."
Peter looked at her, his gaze carrying a hint of something Gwen couldn't understand.
"Gwen."
"Hmm?"
"You sometimes... don't talk like a high school student."
Gwen's heart skipped a beat.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah." Peter nodded. "Sometimes I feel like you're someone who has experienced a lot."
Gwen was silent for a second.
Then she laughed.
"Maybe it's because I've been drumming too much, and my brain isn't quite normal."
Peter was amused by her.
The two ate burgers and chatted, pedestrians occasionally passing by outside the window, the sunlight dyeing everything a warm orange.
An ordinary day.
An ordinary date.
An ordinary high school couple.
But Gwen knew how many extraordinary things were hidden behind this ordinariness.
But it didn't matter.
At least for this moment, she was with him.
That was enough.
When she got home, it was almost dark.
Peter walked her to the door, hesitated for a moment, and lightly kissed her on the forehead.
"Good night, Gwen."
Gwen's face felt slightly hot.
"Good night."
She pushed the door open and entered, discovering George sitting in the living room.
He was holding a newspaper in his hand, but his gaze wasn't on the newspaper.
Gwen's footsteps paused.
"Dad?"
George looked up and looked at her.
That gaze, Gwen was becoming more and more familiar with it.
Scrutinizing. Observing. Thoughtful.
"You're back?" He asked.
"Yeah."
"Did you go out with Peter?"
"Yeah."
George nodded and didn't continue asking.
But when Gwen went upstairs, she always felt his gaze following her.
She turned her head and discovered he was indeed looking at her.
"Dad?"
George shook his head.
"It's nothing. Go to sleep early."
Gwen nodded and went upstairs.
Walking into her room, she leaned against the door and let out a long breath.
She didn't know what George had discovered.
But she knew that look was not just a father looking at his daughter.
She walked to the window and looked at the night outside.
The light was on in the window next door.
Peter's room.
She saw his shadow sway in front of the window, and then the light went out.
Gwen smiled.
She changed into her pajamas and lay down on the bed.
That "pigeon" on the ceiling was still there.
She stared at it for a long time, then closed her eyes.
Good night, pigeon.