Early the next morning, Gwen was awakened by the noise outside the window.
She opened her eyes; the sunlight was already bright.
When she chased after Silk last night, she had already disappeared without a trace—that woman was far more familiar with the geography of New York than she was, and after a few turns, she vanished into the alleys of Lower Manhattan.
Gwen swung between the rooftops until three in the morning, but ultimately returned empty-handed.
She rubbed her eyes and walked to the window to look out.
A crowd had gathered at the street corner; some were handing out flyers, others were holding signs.
Gwen squinted, making out the words written on those signs—
"Spider-Woman is a criminal!"
"Catch that masked freak!"
"Protect our city!"
Gwen was stunned.
She had only been out for one night; how did she become a criminal?
Her phone rang at this moment. Gwen picked it up and saw a message from Peter:
"Turn on the TV, channel 7."
Gwen walked to the living room and turned on the TV. Helen was cooking breakfast in the kitchen and poked her head out upon hearing the sound: "Up already? Perfect, breakfast is ready."
Gwen acknowledged her, her eyes fixed on the screen.
The studio lights were cold and bright, and a man with a commanding aura stood in front of the camera.
With a neat flat-top haircut, his signature toothbrush mustache, wearing a dark suit with a crisp vest, and his tie tied meticulously, the man was speaking passionately into the camera.
Gwen recognized him—Daily Bugle Editor-in-Chief J. Jonah Jameson, Spider-Man's number one "hater".
"Last night, someone in Lower Manhattan witnessed a freak wearing a red and blue bodysuit!" J. Jonah Jameson's voice was full of incitement. "She was jumping between buildings like a giant insect! What is this? This is a threat to our city!"
The screen cut to a blurry cell phone video. Gwen recognized the scene—it was outside that warehouse last night, when she was swinging between the rooftops, someone had filmed her. The quality was terrible, but the red and blue color scheme and that spider emblem were still visible.
"This person who calls herself 'Spider-Man'," J. Jonah Jameson continued, "who is she? She is a criminal! Her appearance at every crime scene is the best proof! Why does she always show up in those places? Because she is the one who committed those acts!"
Gwen opened her mouth to refute, but didn't know who to refute.
"We don't need this kind of masked vigilante!" Jameson waved his fist at the camera. "Let the Police handle the crimes! Let professionals do professional work! This Spider-Man, she is just a freak who wants attention!"
The scene switched to street interviews.
"I think she's definitely a criminal," a middle-aged woman said. "Who would dress like that if they were normal?"
"I heard she's in cahoots with those gangs," another man said. "Deliberately creating chaos to fish in troubled waters."
Gwen turned off the TV and fell silent.
Helen brought out the fried eggs and, seeing her daughter's expression, asked with concern: "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." Gwen shook her head and sat down to eat.
But her mind was in a mess.
She had saved over a dozen people last night. If not for her, those people would have already had their organs harvested. Yet this morning, she had become a criminal.
Is this what Silk meant by "those people won't accept you"?
"Gwen?" Helen's voice pulled her back. "You've been leaving early and returning late lately; what are you busy with?"
Gwen's heart tightened.
"Club activities," she said, looking down at her fried eggs. "The competition is coming up, and we're practicing intensively."
Helen nodded and didn't ask further. But Gwen noticed a hint of contemplation in her mother's eyes as she looked at her.
In the evening, Gwen returned home and found George sitting in the living room.
This was highly unusual. George usually worked late shifts and was rarely home at this time.
"Dad?" Gwen changed her shoes. "Why are you home so early today?"
George put down his newspaper and looked at her.
"Gwen, we need to talk."
Gwen's heart skipped a beat.
Had she been found out?
She tried to stay calm and walked over to sit on the sofa. Her mind raced—if Dad asked, how should she explain? Say it wasn't her? Say she was saving people?
"Dad, talk about what?" she asked, her voice steadier than she expected.
George looked at her, silent for a few seconds.
"Are you dating someone?"
Gwen was just about to take a sip of water to calm her nerves, but upon hearing this, she sprayed the water right out.
"Cough, cough, cough—" she choked, her face turning bright red. "W-what?"
George's expression was very serious: "You've been leaving early and returning late lately, often lost in thought, and sometimes smiling for no reason. Your mom says you weren't like this before."
Gwen opened her mouth, not knowing what to say.
Dating?
Her?
She was indeed a girl in this body now, but her soul—her soul was that of a man! Although she had gradually adapted to this body after transmigrating, the idea of her dating like a normal girl—
She imagined the scene and shuddered.
"Gwen?" George stared at her.
"No!" Gwen quickly denied. "Absolutely not!"
George raised an eyebrow: "Really?"
"Really!"
"Then what are you busy with lately?"
"Club activities!" Gwen blurted out. "The band competition is coming up, and we're practicing intensively. Mary Jane said this competition is very important, so we're practicing extra every day—"
She spoke anxiously, her speed twice as fast as usual.
George looked at her, his gaze gradually becoming subtle.
"Alright." He stood up and patted Gwen on the shoulder. "I believe you. But if anything happens, remember to tell Dad."
Gwen nodded, feeling relieved.
George put on his coat to leave, but suddenly turned back when he reached the door.
"By the way, that Peter Parker next door," he said, "he also seems to be coming home late often lately. When you see him, ask him for me if something's going on."
Gwen was stunned for a moment: "Ah? Oh, okay."
George looked at her, his gaze filled with hidden meaning, then opened the door and left.
Gwen stood in the living room, ruminating on her dad's last sentence and that look.
Wait.
Could he be thinking that—
She thought halfway and her face instantly turned red.
At night, Gwen was in her room studying the small receiver Peter gave her. This thing was indeed useful; it could receive information from Peter and also provide location and navigation. She was pondering whether she could add more features when there was a light tapping on the window.
Gwen opened the window, and Peter climbed in.
"Why are you climbing in again—"
"Shh." Peter held up a finger, lowering his voice. "Your dad is downstairs."
Gwen walked to the window and looked down; sure enough, George's Police car was still parked at the street corner. A small red dot was flickering in the car—he was smoking. George rarely smoked unless he was thinking about something.
"Is he suspicious?" Peter asked.
"No." Gwen closed the window. "He just thinks I'm dating."
Peter was stunned: "Dating? With whom?"
Gwen looked at him, suddenly finding it a bit funny.
"How would I know." She walked back to the table. "Anyway, it's not the person my dad thinks it is."
Peter followed, his ears slightly red, not knowing if it was from climbing the wall or some other reason.
"By the way," he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, "I've found some new clues."
Gwen took the paper; it contained some transaction and communication records. She didn't quite understand them, but saw a few keywords: The Hand, organs, export, Kun-Lun.
"This Kun-Lun," Peter pointed to one of the entries, "I've been investigating for a long time; it's not that mountain from mythology. It's an organization, or rather, a place. There's very little information, only knowing it has a deep connection with The Hand."
Gwen remembered the name Silk mentioned last night.
"Those organs, are they being shipped to Kun-Lun?"
"Probably." Peter nodded. "But I can't find the specific location of Kun-Lun. Only know it's in Asia, possibly around the Himalayas."
Gwen looked at those records in silence.
In her past life's memories, Kun-Lun was the home of Iron Fist, a mysterious city existing in an alternate dimension. The Hand were ninjas who defected from Kun-Lun; they had always been searching for dragon bones—something that could grant eternal life.
If this World has Kun-Lun and The Hand—
Then could there also be Iron Fist? Daredevil? The Defenders?
"Gwen?" Peter saw her zoning out and waved his hand in front of her.
Gwen came back to her senses: "Thinking about something."
"About Kun-Lun?"
"Yeah." She paused. "Peter, can you find out if there are any other people in New York like us? The kind with special abilities."
Peter was stunned: "Like you?"
"Not necessarily like me. Could be other abilities." Gwen thought of Daredevil—that blind lawyer with super-senses. If he really existed in this World, he should be in New York.
Peter nodded thoughtfully: "I'll try."
The night deepened outside the window. George's Police car finally drove away, its taillights disappearing at the corner.
Gwen watched the receding red light, suddenly remembering the people on TV during the day who called her a criminal.
"Peter," she asked softly, "do you think I did something wrong?"
Peter looked at her.
"What?"
"Last night's incident." Gwen said. "I went to save those people. But this morning, the TV said I'm a criminal. Said I appeared at the crime scene, so those things were my doing."
She turned her head to look at Peter.
"If it's going to be like this every time in the future, should I continue?"
Peter was silent for a few seconds, then walked to her side.
"Gwen," he said, "you saved over a dozen people last night. Those people are home now, able to reunite with their families. Does it matter what the TV says?"
Gwen looked at him.
Under the moonlight, Peter's face was rimmed with silver. His eyes were bright, not with that kind of genius sharpness, but with something much warmer.
"And," he added, "it's not like I wasn't there when you were saving people. I heard everything through the communicator. I know what you did."
Gwen paused for a moment, then smiled.
"True," she said softly, "at least you know."
After school the next day, Gwen went to the music room as usual.
Mary Jane was already tuning up, and Betty and Glory were discussing the chords for the new song. Seeing Gwen enter, Mary Jane looked up.
"You're here? Sit down quickly; we're going to run through the whole song today."
Gwen sat behind the drum kit and picked up the drumsticks.
The drums began to play.
After practicing for this period of time, she was able to control her strength very well. The drum beats were precise and powerful, the rhythm was steady, and her coordination with the guitar was becoming increasingly seamless.
As the song finished, Mary Jane nodded with satisfaction.
"Good! We'll stick to this rhythm tomorrow. There's only one week left until the competition, let's all keep pushing!"
Glory put away her sheet music and suddenly asked, "By the way, have you guys heard? About that Spider-Man."
Gwen's hand faltered for a second.
"The one they curse on TV every day?" Betty curled her lip, "I actually think she might not be as bad as they say."
Mary Jane nodded, "I think so too. What kind of criminal runs around wearing such flashy clothes? If they were really going to do bad things, wouldn't they be sneaky about it?"
Gwen kept her head down, pretending to organize her drumsticks.
"And," Mary Jane continued, "have you heard about that warehouse incident last night? My neighbor works at the Police station and said they found over a dozen people inside who were almost harvested for organs. They said someone saved them."
Betty's eyes widened, "Did Spider-Man save them?"
"I don't know." Mary Jane shrugged, "The Police didn't say. But those people had been locked up there for days; how come they weren't found earlier or later, but were discovered exactly the day Spider-Man appeared?"
A wave of warmth surged in Gwen's heart.
"Gwen?" Mary Jane called to her, "What do you think?"
Gwen looked up, thought for a moment, and said, "I think that no matter who she is, as long as she is saving people, she isn't a bad person."
Mary Jane looked at her and suddenly smiled.
"True," she said, "let's go. Let's head back early today; we have rehearsals tomorrow."
Walking out of the school gate, Gwen saw Peter standing on the side of the road, holding a stack of papers, obviously waiting for her.
"Any new discoveries?" She walked over.
Peter nodded, but his expression was a bit strange. Not excitement, but… hesitation?
"What's wrong?"
Peter opened his mouth, just about to speak, when suddenly a Police car pulled up beside them. The window rolled down, revealing George's face.
"Gwen, going home?" He asked, then his gaze landed on Peter, "Peter is here too?"
Gwen's heart tightened.
"Dad, why are you here?"
"Just passing by on patrol." George's gaze swept between the two of them, "Do you need a ride?"
Gwen was just about to refuse, but Peter had already spoken, "No, no thank you, Mr. Stacy. We can just walk back."
George nodded, but his gaze still lingered on them for a few seconds. That look was very familiar to Gwen—she had seen it countless times; it was the same look her dad had when he was staring at suspects in the interrogation room.
"Alright, then be careful on the way." George rolled up the window, and the Police car slowly drove away.
Gwen exhaled in relief and turned to look at Peter.
"What were you trying to say just now?"
Peter's face was a bit flushed, not sure if it was because of George's gaze earlier, or something else.
"I…" He opened his mouth, "I actually…"
"Hmm?"
"I…" Peter took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind about something, "Gwen, I—"
"Peter?" Gwen looked confused, "What happened?"
Peter looked at her, his face getting redder, but the words wouldn't come out.
Just then, a honk came from behind them.
Both of them turned around and saw George's Police car driving back. George stuck his head out, wearing a subtle expression on his face.
"Forgot to pick something up." He said, then looked at the two of them, "Carry on."
The Police car drove away again.
Gwen and Peter stood where they were, silent for a few seconds.
"He was definitely doing that on purpose." Gwen said.
Peter kept his head down, his ears red enough to bleed.
"Um," he whispered, "I'll tell you another day."
Then he walked quickly ahead, leaving Gwen behind.
Gwen watched his back, suddenly remembering what her dad said last night— "That Peter Parker next door, it seems he's been coming home late often lately too."
She paused for a moment, and then her face turned red too.
"No way…" She muttered.
For the next few days, Gwen's life fell into a strange rhythm.
Classes during the day, drum practice in the afternoon, patrol at night. Peter continued to help her look up information, occasionally climbing through her window to deliver intelligence. J. Jonah Jameson cursed her on TV every day, but different voices began to appear on the streets of New York—those whom she had saved began to quietly spread her story.
"That Spider-Man, she saved the neighbor's son."
"I heard she took down over a dozen gangsters by herself."
"What they say on TV isn't necessarily right; my relative was at the scene that night…"
Gwen couldn't hear these things, but she could feel that something was quietly changing.
The day before the competition, the band had their final rehearsal.
Mary Jane stood in the middle, her gaze sweeping over her three bandmates.
"Tomorrow is the competition." She said, "No matter the result, I'm already very happy that we could make it this far."
Betty and Glory nodded. Gwen nodded as well.
"Gwen," Mary Jane suddenly looked at her, "You've worked hard during this time. Having to practice drums and being busy with other things."
Gwen paused, "You know?"
Mary Jane smiled, "I've said it before, we've known each other for so many years. You can't hide things from me."
She walked over and patted Gwen on the shoulder.
"No matter what you're busy with," she said, "be careful."
Gwen looked into her sincere eyes and suddenly wanted to say something.
"MJ…" She began, "If one day, you find out I've been hiding some things from you—"
"Then I'll wait until you're willing to tell me." Mary Jane interrupted her, "Isn't that what friends are for?"
Gwen's nose felt a bit sore, but she held it back.
"Thank you."
"What are you thanking me for," Mary Jane smiled and pushed her, "Go home quickly, come early tomorrow."
Walking out of the music room, it was already dark.
Gwen was walking home, and when she passed that street corner, she suddenly stopped.
That was the place she had swung past on her first night.
She looked up at the rooftops, remembering the panic of shooting her first web, the excitement of flying through the air for the first time, the battle in the warehouse that night, and Silk's amber eyes.
"Gwen."
Peter's voice came from behind.
Gwen turned around and saw him standing under a street lamp, holding a folder in his hand.
"Any new clues?" She asked.
Peter walked over and handed her the folder.
"I hacked into the NYPD system." He said, his voice very low, "Your dad and his team are investigating a case that might be related to The Hand."
Gwen opened the folder; inside were copies of case files. Her gaze swept over the text and then stopped on a name.
"Kun-Lun Trading Company".
Registered in Hong Kong, its business scope included import/export, logistics, and investment. It looked very legitimate, but the NYPD notes wrote: Suspected to be related to multiple cases of missing persons.
"This company," Peter said, "I checked, it has a warehouse in New York. Right in Brooklyn."
Gwen looked at the address, her heart beating slightly faster.
"Go take a look tonight?"
Peter hesitated for a moment, "Aren't you having your competition tomorrow?"
Gwen paused. Right, tomorrow was the day of the band competition. Mary Jane had been looking forward to it for so long; she couldn't be absent.
"…After the competition tomorrow." She said.
Peter nodded, then turned to leave.
"Peter." Gwen called him back.
He turned around.
Gwen looked at him, suddenly remembering what he hadn't finished saying a few days ago.
"What you said the other day," she asked, "what did you want to say?"
Peter paused, then his ears turned red again.
"Nothing," he looked down, "I'll say it another day."
He quickly disappeared into the night.
Gwen stood there, watching his thin back, a strange feeling surging in her heart.
She remembered the days before she transmigrated—back then, she was just an ordinary reader, watching other people's stories on a screen, moved by their joys and sorrows.
Now, she had become a person in the story herself.
With band friends, a worried dad, and a childhood friend who would climb windows to deliver intelligence.
And a red and blue suit, and a name called Spider-Man.
She looked up, watching the stars in the night sky.
Tomorrow is the competition.
After tomorrow, there are more things to do.
But at least for now, she had a group of people she could rely on.
Gwen smiled, turned around, and walked towards home.
The street lamp stretched her shadow long, extending all the way to the street corner, intersecting with another shadow.