Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, painting a crooked line of gold across Gwen's face.
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow.
But the sound of the television from the living room was just too loud, so loud that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't fall back asleep.
Gwen sighed and opened her eyes.
"What time is it?"
She reached for her phone and took a look—eight in the morning.
The weekend.
She could have slept until ten.
She was all too familiar with that voice on the television. It was full of vigor and impassioned, with every word sounding as if it were proclaiming some major news to all of New York.
J. Jonah Jameson.
Without a doubt.
Gwen sat up and rubbed her eyes. Her long blonde hair was messy and draped over her shoulders, with a few stray strands stuck to her cheeks. She yawned and wandered out of the room.
In the living room, George was sitting on the sofa, holding a cup of coffee, watching the television with a calm expression. Helen was moving between the kitchen and the living room, setting the breakfast plates on the table one by one.
On the television, J. Jonah Jameson's face filled the entire screen. He was wearing a dark blue suit today with a red tie, his hair combed meticulously, but the expression on his face was as angry as ever.
"That spider-freak!" he shouted, pointing at a photo on the screen. "She's changed into a black skin again! What is she trying to do? Does she want to prove she can change her image whenever she wants? Or is she trying to tell us that she's finally shown her true colors?"
The scene switched to a few blurry photos. They were taken by someone last night—a black figure streaking through the night sky, the spider emblem on her chest sharper than before, her whole being radiating an indescribable sense of oppression.
"Look at this photo!" J. Jonah Jameson enlarged the photo. "Did you see that? What is that? That is no hero! That is a monster! A threat!"
Gwen yawned and sat down at the dining table.
She was used to it.
Truly used to it.
Helen brought over some milk and set a glass down in front of her.
"Did it wake you up?"
Gwen nodded, took the milk, and had a sip.
On the television, J. Jonah Jameson was still going on.
"And there was another thing last night!" His voice became even more impassioned. "That monster known as 'Rhino'—yes, that gray, blue, rhinoceros-like monster—appeared in Brooklyn last night! He had a fight with that spider-freak! And then what? Where did he run off to?"
The scene switched to another location—the back door of the NYPD precinct, a scene of chaos. There were bloodstains on the ground, traces of a fight, and several police officers being carried away on stretchers.
"According to eyewitnesses, a group of unidentified militants attacked the police station last night!" J. Jonah Jameson said. "And that spider-freak just happened to be there! Is this a coincidence? Or—are they actually working together?"
Gwen nearly choked on her milk.
"Working together?"
"Her and Rhino working together?"
George glanced at her, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.
Gwen was very familiar with that expression—it was that kind of helpless "see, you're being scolded again" look, mixed with a bit of "getting used to it is fine" nonchalance.
Helen brought over fried eggs and bacon and sat down next to Gwen. She looked at J. Jonah Jameson's angry face on the television and frowned.
"My goodness," she said, "why does this man scold Spider-Man every single day? It was clearly that monster who attacked the police station last night, and Spider-Man went to save people, didn't he?"
George picked up his coffee and took a sip.
"The media needs topics," he said. "The more people they scold, the more people watch."
Helen shook her head and turned her attention back to breakfast.
On the television, J. Jonah Jameson was still continuing his long-winded rant. But Gwen couldn't listen anymore.
She was thinking about last night.
Those ninjas.
Rhino.
And the moment her dad saw her.
She snuck a glance at George.
George was also looking at her.
The father and daughter's gazes met in the air.
There was no anger in George's eyes, no reproach, only something Gwen couldn't quite understand—it was like understanding, yet also like worry, and a little bit of helplessness.
He lifted his chin slightly and pointed toward Gwen's plate.
"Gwen, what are you spacing out for? Eat your breakfast."
Gwen snapped back to reality and hurriedly lowered her head to eat.
Helen looked at George, then at Gwen, always feeling that there was something between the father and daughter that she didn't know about.
But she didn't ask.
Having been married for so many years, she had long since learned that there were some things men didn't want to talk about, and asking was useless.
On the television, J. Jonah Jameson was still roaring.
"That spider-freak! The cancer of this city! We need to let her know that New York does not welcome her! We need to—"
George picked up the remote and turned off the television.
The living room suddenly went quiet.
Helen was stunned for a moment.
"What's wrong?"
George shook his head.
"It's too noisy."
Helen looked at him, then at Gwen, always feeling like something was off.
But she still didn't ask.
After finishing the meal, Gwen stood up, ready to go back to her room to change clothes.
"By the way," George suddenly spoke up, "I saw it first thing this morning, your boyfriend is waiting for you."
Gwen was stunned for a moment.
"Peter?"
"Who else could it be?" George's tone was very flat, but Gwen caught a hint of something else—it was like... helplessness?
She walked to the window and took a look outside.
Sure enough, Peter was standing under the maple tree by the door, looking toward her house. He was wearing a light gray hoodie today, carrying that old backpack, looking a bit nervous and a bit expectant.
Gwen couldn't help but smile.
Helen walked over, followed her gaze, and smiled too.
"This kid, really..." She shook her head. "George, stop always teasing them."
George snorted and didn't say anything.
But Gwen noticed that the corners of his mouth curved slightly.
Gwen went back to her room to change—today she wore a white knit sweater, paired with a dark blue knee-length skirt, and a light khaki trench coat over it. She tied her hair into a high ponytail, looked in the mirror, and nodded with satisfaction.
When she walked out the door, Peter had already come up to meet her.
He looked at her, and his eyes lit up.
"Morning, Gwen."
Gwen walked over and naturally took his hand.
"Morning."
The two walked forward side by side.
When they reached the street corner, Gwen looked back.
George was standing at the door, watching them.
Discovering she had turned back, he waved.
Gwen waved back.
Then she turned back and continued walking forward.
Peter squeezed her hand gently.
"Is your dad... okay?"
Gwen nodded.
"He's okay."
"He didn't say anything?"
Gwen thought about it.
"He said, 'I saw it first thing this morning, your boyfriend is waiting for you'."
Peter was stunned for a moment.
"Just like that?"
"Just like that."
Peter was silent for a few seconds, then smiled.
"Your dad is really cool."
Gwen smiled too.
"Yeah."
The two walked along the familiar street. The morning sunlight spilled onto them, warm and cozy. Occasionally, morning joggers passed by, leaving behind a series of footsteps.
When they reached the next street corner, three familiar figures walked toward them.
Mary Jane. Betty. Glory.
All three were in casual clothes, obviously out shopping for the weekend.
Seeing Gwen and Peter walking over hand-in-hand, Betty was the first to let out a whistle.
"Whoa! What is this? A weekend date?"
Mary Jane smiled and leaned in, looking them up and down.
"Let me see, let me see—hand in hand, walking together, where are you two going?"
Gwen's face heated up slightly.
"Just... walking around."
"Walking around?" Betty leaned in, full of gossip. "Really just walking around? Not going to some romantic place?"
Glory pushed up her glasses, rarely joining in the teasing.
"According to my observations, the direction they are headed is toward Central Park."
Betty's eyes lit up.
"Central Park! The holy land for dates! You guys are definitely going on a date!"
Gwen: "..."
Peter: "..."
Mary Jane smiled and patted Gwen on the shoulder.
"Alright, alright, I won't tease you anymore." She winked. "Have fun, don't be in a rush to come back."
Gwen wanted to say something, but Mary Jane had already pulled Betty and Glory away.
After walking a few steps, Betty turned back and waved at them.
"Remember to take pictures!"
Gwen and Peter stood where they were and looked at each other.
Peter's ears were red enough to drip blood.
Gwen couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"Let's go." She pulled his hand. "Don't mind them."
The two continued walking forward.
The sun was nice, and the wind was light.
In Central Park, there were already many people. Some were jogging, some were walking their dogs, and parents were playing with their children on the lawn. There were a few ducks swimming on the lake, and occasionally pigeons flew by, leaving behind a series of fluttering sounds.
Gwen and Peter walked slowly along the lakeside.
After walking for a while, Peter suddenly spoke up.
"Gwen."
"Hm?"
"Harry came to find me again yesterday."
Gwen's steps paused.
"What did he say?"
Peter looked at her, his expression becoming serious.
"Still that matter—his father's illness."
Gwen nodded and didn't say anything.
"I told him that Spider-Man is willing to help," Peter said. "Just as you said—only 20cc can be drawn, it can only be used to treat his father, it cannot be used for research, it cannot be copied, and it cannot be used for anything else."
Gwen looked at him.
"What did he say?"
"He..." Peter thought for a moment. "He cried."
Gwen was stunned.
"Cried?"
"Hmm." Peter nodded. "He said thank you. He said it so many times. He said his father has been tortured by illness for these past few years, and they've looked for many Doctors, but none could do anything. He said—"
He paused.
"He said that no matter what conditions Spider-Man sets, he will agree to them."
Gwen fell silent.
She thought of Harry Osborn from those stories in her previous life.
That sunny, cheerful boy who, in the end, because of his father's illness and the family curse, walked step by step down a road of no return.
If she could use a little bit of blood to stop all that—
It was worth it.
"So what did you say?" she asked.
Peter looked at her, his gaze carrying a hint of complexity.
"I said Sunday works."
Gwen was stunned for a moment.
"Sunday?"
"Hmm." Peter nodded. "I told him that Spider-Man is free on Sunday. I told him to arrange a time, and that Spider-Man would set the location."
Gwen thought for a moment.
Sunday.
Tomorrow.
"Okay," she said. "Then Sunday it is."
Peter looked at her, wanting to say something but hesitating.
"Gwen."
"Hmm?"
"Have you really thought this through?"
Gwen looked at him and suddenly smiled.
"Peter, didn't you say? Harry is your friend."
Peter nodded.
"He is my friend too," Gwen said. "If I can help, why wouldn't I?"
Peter looked at her, and something flashed in those eyes.
He suddenly reached out and pulled her into his arms.
Gwen was stunned for a moment.
"Peter?"
"It's nothing." He rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice muffled. "I just wanted to hold you."
Gwen paused, then smiled.
She raised her hands and hugged him back.
The two of them stood there by the lake, holding each other.
The sunlight spilled over them, warm and cozy.
In the distance, children were laughing, ducks were quacking, and the wind rustled through the leaves.
Everything was wonderful.
After a long while, Peter let go.
He looked at Gwen and said earnestly.
"On Sunday, I'll go with you."
Gwen looked at him, a warmth welling up in her heart.
"Okay."
The two continued walking forward.
After walking for a while, Gwen suddenly remembered something.
"Oh right, that suit—"
Peter's expression became serious.
"That black suit? What about it?"
Gwen shook her head.
"I haven't worn it yet. But I'm wondering if I should wear it when I go to the Osborn Estate on Sunday."
Peter thought about it.
"What do you think?"
Gwen was silent for a few seconds.
"The white one is too conspicuous. The black one... might be more suitable for nighttime operations."
Peter nodded.
"But you have to be careful with that symbiote."
Gwen looked at him.
"I will control it."
Peter held her hand.
"I believe in you."
The two continued walking forward.
The sun was nice.
The wind was light.
Gwen suddenly felt that with him by her side, she didn't seem to fear anything anymore.
Sunday arrived quickly.
At 6:00 PM, Gwen changed into that black suit.
Standing in front of the mirror, she looked at herself inside.
The jet-black suit, the sharp spider emblem, and the cape hanging slightly behind her. Her whole being radiated an aura completely different from usual.
She reached out and gently pressed her chest.
The suit rippled slightly, as if responding to her.
"You're called Venom, right?" she whispered.
There was no response.
But she felt a strange—emotion? It was like curiosity, and also like anticipation.
"I'm going to do something on Sunday," she said. "Something very important. You follow me, but you must listen to me."
The suit rippled again.
Gwen didn't know if this counted as agreeing.
But at least, it didn't refuse.
She took a deep breath and opened the window.
The night wind poured in, carrying a chill.
She flicked her wrist, and a strand of black spider-Silk shot toward the rooftop opposite.
She leapt into the night.
Following the route agreed upon with Peter, she first went to a place—the rooftop of Midtown High School.
Peter was already waiting there.
He was wearing casual clothes, carrying that old backpack, and holding his camera in his hand.
Seeing the black figure descend from the sky, he was stunned for a moment.
Under the moonlight, the suit was shiny black, and the spider emblem on her chest was as sharp as if it wanted to tear through the night sky. Her cape fluttered in the night wind, and her whole being radiated a sense of oppression that hadn't been there before.
But those eyes were still Gwen's eyes.
Peter smiled.
"The new look is cool."
Gwen landed in front of him and also smiled.
"Thank you."
Peter walked over and looked at her.
"How do you feel?"
Gwen thought about it.
"My strength is stronger than before. My speed is faster too. But—"
She paused.
"But it has a bit of... an influence."
Peter's expression became serious.
"What kind of influence?"
"It's just..." Gwen searched for the words. "There are some impulsive feelings. Wanting to fight, wanting to vent."
Peter frowned.
"Then today—"
"It's fine today," Gwen interrupted him. "Today isn't about fighting. It's about saving someone."
Peter looked at her, his gaze carrying a hint of worry.
But in the end, he just nodded.
"Okay. If there's a problem, tell me immediately."
Gwen smiled.
"Okay."
The two headed together toward the Osborn Estate.
Peter rode his motorcycle, while Gwen swung through the night sky.
Under the moonlight, the two figures, one black and one white, passed through the buildings of Manhattan and approached the magnificent estate.
Harry was already waiting at the side gate of the Osborn Estate.
He was wearing dark casual clothes, with a nervous yet expectant expression on his face. Seeing Peter ride up on his motorcycle, he hurried to greet him.
"Peter!"
Peter stopped the bike and nodded at him.
"Harry."
Harry looked around.
"Where is Spider-Man?"
As soon as he finished speaking, a black shadow descended from the sky and landed in front of him.
Harry jumped back in fright.
Under the moonlight, the jet-black suit, the sharp spider emblem, and those white lenses left him speechless for a moment.
"...S-Spider-Man?"
Gwen nodded.
"I am."
Harry looked at her, then at Peter, and then took a deep breath.
"Thank you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Thank you for being willing to come."
Gwen shook her head.
"Lead the way."
Harry nodded and led them through the side gate into the estate.
Norman Osborn's private medical room was on the second basement level.
The equipment here was more advanced than any hospital. All sorts of instruments with unpronounceable names filled the room, and monitoring screens hung on the walls, displaying various data. In the center was a medical bed, and Norman Osborn was lying on it.
He was much thinner than the last time they met.
His face was pale, his eye sockets were sunken, and his lips were slightly purple. His hands were at his sides, trembling slightly from time to time.
Seeing someone enter, he opened his eyes.
His gaze fell on Gwen—the jet-black suit made him pause.
"Spider-Man," he said, his voice raspy. "New look?"
Gwen nodded.
"Mr. Osborn."
Norman looked at her, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.
"Harry told me your conditions. 20cc, only to be used for treatment, not for research, not to be replicated."
Gwen nodded.
"I agree," Norman said. "I swear on the honor of the Osborn family."
Gwen was silent for a second.
"Okay."
The medic walked over, having prepared the tools for drawing blood.
Gwen rolled up her sleeve, revealing her wrist.
The black suit rippled slightly, exposing the fair skin underneath.
The moment the needle pierced her vein, she didn't move.
Dark red blood flowed slowly into the test tube.
20cc.
Not a drop more, not a drop less.
The medic pulled out the needle and pressed a cotton swab against the wound.
"Done."
Gwen nodded and pulled down her sleeve.
The suit covered her wrist again.
Norman looked at her, his gaze carrying a hint of complex emotion.
"Thank you," he said. "Whatever you want, as long as I can do it—"
"No need," Gwen interrupted him. "You just need to keep your promise."
Norman nodded.
"I will."
Gwen turned to leave.
Walking to the door, she suddenly stopped.
"Mr. Osborn."
"Hmm?"
"Your illness will get better," she said. "Live well."
Then she pushed the door open and went out.
Norman lay on the bed, looking at the closed door, not moving for a long time.
Harry walked over and sat down beside him.
"Dad?"
Norman shook his head.
"It's nothing," he said, his voice very light. "I just feel... this World has more hope than I imagined."
Walking out of the Osborn Estate, Gwen let out a long sigh.
Peter was already waiting at the gate.
Seeing her come out, he went up to her.
"How did it go?"
"It's done," Gwen raised her wrist. "20cc."
Peter looked at her, his gaze filled with heartache.
"Does it hurt?"
Gwen shook her head.
"No."
Peter reached out and gently held her wrist.
That was where the blood had just been drawn.
"Go back and get some rest," he said.
Gwen nodded.
The two stood under the moonlight, looking at the lights of Manhattan in the distance.
After a long while, Gwen whispered.
"Peter."
"Hmm?"
"Thank you."
Peter was stunned for a moment.
"What are you thanking me for?"
Gwen didn't answer.
She just leaned on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
The night wind blew gently, fluttering her cape.
The city in the distance was brightly lit, like countless stars fallen to the ground.
And they were just two ordinary people in this city.
But tonight, they did something extraordinary.
The corners of Gwen's mouth curled up slightly.