When Gwen woke up, sunlight had already filtered through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a crooked golden line across the sheets.
She blinked, stared at that golden line for a few seconds, and then slowly sat up.
Her chest felt a bit heavy.
Not that kind of heavy, it was—
She looked down for a moment, then quickly averted her gaze.
Ever since she gained her Spider-Man abilities, her body's recovery speed had become astonishing. The bruises left from fighting those ninjas in the warehouse a few days ago had completely vanished when she showered last night. Her skin was as smooth as if nothing had ever happened, without even a single scratch left behind.
Gwen threw off the covers, got out of bed, and walked into the bathroom barefoot.
The mirror reflected a girl who had just woken up—her blonde hair was a bit messy, her blue-gray eyes still held a hazy look, and her lips were slightly parted, as if she hadn't fully woken up yet.
She turned on the faucet, splashed her face with cold water, then looked up and looked into the mirror again.
This time, she looked for a bit longer.
The girl in the mirror was wearing a loose nightgown, the collar slightly open. Her collarbones were beautiful, and the lines of her shoulders were soft yet strong. Further down—
Gwen's gaze paused.
She admitted, this body was indeed very good.
Very... good.
The kind of good that was curvy in all the right places.
Gwen stared at herself in the mirror, and suddenly a thought popped into her head—
Accepting Peter's feelings wouldn't be impossible...
As soon as this thought emerged, Gwen was startled by herself.
Wait!
What accepting Peter's feelings? What wouldn't be impossible?
She leaned abruptly toward the mirror, staring at herself inside, as if she wanted to drag out that "unchaste" soul.
"Get a grip!" she said to herself in the mirror, "Your soul is male!"
The girl in the mirror also had her mouth open, her blue-gray eyes full of shock.
Gwen covered her face, leaned against the vanity, and took several deep breaths.
This must be the fault of estrogen.
Yes, it must be.
It had been almost three months since she transmigrated, and the blood flowing through this body was authentic girl's blood. Hormones, estrogen, those terms she had only seen in biology textbooks before, were now truly exerting their influence within her body.
They affected her emotions, affected her thoughts, affected her—
"Gwen!" Helen's voice came from downstairs, "If you don't get up now, you're really going to be late!"
"Coming!"
Gwen shook her head, shaking those messy thoughts out of her brain.
She changed into her school uniform—today, for the first time ever, she wore a pleated skirt, paired with a white shirt and knee-high boots. When she stood in front of the mirror, she was stunned for a moment.
This seemed to be the first time she had voluntarily worn a skirt.
Gwen stared at the girl in the pleated skirt in the mirror for a while, then shrugged.
It looked pretty good.
She skillfully tied her hair into a high ponytail—she no longer needed to study tutorials; a few deft flicks of her fingers were enough. The golden ponytail swayed behind her head, carrying a playful arc.
Gwen nodded at herself in the mirror, grabbed her schoolbag, and rushed downstairs.
"Morning, Mom!"
Helen was busy in the kitchen. Hearing the voice, she poked her head out and, seeing her daughter's attire, her eyes brightened.
"Oh my, wearing a skirt today?"
"Yeah." Gwen sat down at the dining table and picked up a piece of toast.
Helen walked over, looked her up and down, and smiled meaningfully.
"It looks good," she said, "This is so much better, young girls should wear skirts."
Gwen lowered her head and took a bite of toast, pretending not to understand the deeper meaning in her mom's words.
Of course she knew what her mom was thinking.
But it wasn't because of that reason.
Really not.
...Probably.
After breakfast, Gwen grabbed her schoolbag and headed out.
The morning air had a bit of a chill, and the sunlight spilled onto the streets, dyeing everything a warm gold. She was walking on the familiar path when, passing the old maple tree, she suddenly saw two people standing ahead.
One was Peter.
The other was an elderly man with graying hair, wearing a washed-out plaid shirt, who was patting Peter on the shoulder while talking.
Uncle Ben.
Gwen's footsteps faltered.
After transmigrating, she had seen Uncle Ben a few times. Each time it was just a fleeting glance, without time to look closely. But standing in the morning light right now, the old man's appearance was clearly reflected in her eyes—
A gentle smile, wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and those eyes filled with love when looking at Peter.
Gwen suddenly remembered the ending for Uncle Ben in the stories about Spider-Man from her past life.
Her heart gave a tug.
"...Study hard, and don't always stay holed up in your room tinkering with those little gadgets," Uncle Ben's voice came over, filled with a smile, "I've noticed you've been staying up late lately, you have dark circles under your eyes."
Peter lowered his head, his ears a bit red: "I know, Uncle Ben."
"And," Uncle Ben patted his shoulder, "be nicer to your friends. I think that little girl next door is quite nice, don't always keep her waiting for you."
Peter's face turned bright red instantly.
Gwen happened to walk up next to them, and upon hearing this, her footsteps faltered.
Peter looked up, saw her, and his face turned even redder.
"M-morning, Gwen."
Gwen looked at his flushed face, suddenly remembering the thought she had in front of the mirror that morning, and a strange feeling surged in her heart.
"Morning, Peter," she steadied her voice, then nodded at Uncle Ben, "Good morning, Mr. Parker."
Uncle Ben looked at the two of them with a smile, his gaze shifting back and forth between them.
"Good morning, Gwen," he said, "I'll leave Peter to you, don't let him be late."
"Okay, Mr. Parker."
Uncle Ben waved at them and turned to walk back. After taking two steps, he turned back to look at Peter again.
"Peter," he said, "come back early tonight. Aunt Mei made your favorite apple pie."
Peter nodded.
Uncle Ben's back disappeared into the doorway.
Gwen stood in place, watching the closed door, her heart suddenly feeling a bit congested.
Uncle Ben was still alive.
In this World, Uncle Ben was still alive.
She didn't know what this meant—was it because Peter hadn't become Spider-Man yet, so Uncle Ben had avoided that disaster? Or was it that this World had a different destiny?
But she knew one thing.
She wanted Uncle Ben to keep living.
"Gwen?" Peter's voice pulled her back, "What's wrong?"
Gwen snapped out of it and shook her head: "It's nothing. Let's go."
The two walked side-by-side toward school.
The morning sunlight spilled onto them, warm and cozy. The streets were gradually becoming lively, with people walking dogs, people jogging, and parents taking their children to school. Everything was so normal, so ordinary, as if this World had never had any superheroes, any The Hand, or any organ trafficking.
But Gwen knew that those things all existed.
Just like the spider abilities on her, just like the screens in Peter's attic, just like what Murakami said in the warehouse last night—
"Kill her."
She took a deep breath and pushed these thoughts down.
"Peter," she started, "have you thought about the action plan for the day after tomorrow?"
Peter nodded and pushed up his glasses.
"Basically thought it through. Brooklyn Docks, Warehouse Number Three, I found the architectural blueprints. You have three entrances to choose from, I suggest entering through the fire escape on the east side, there's the least surveillance there."
"And then?"
"Then..." Peter paused, "you have to be careful. Murakami is there, and at least twenty ninjas. You aren't going there to fight, you are going to collect evidence. Got it?"
Gwen nodded.
"Got it."
Peter looked at her, his gaze carrying a hint of worry, but in the end, he didn't say anything.
The two continued walking forward.
After walking for a while, Gwen suddenly remembered something.
"Oh right, Peter," she asked, "that night in my room, what exactly did you want to say?"
Peter was stunned for a moment, and then his ears turned red again.
"N-nothing."
"Really?"
"Really."
Gwen looked at his flushed ears and couldn't help but laugh.
"Alright," she said, "tell me whenever you feel like saying it."
Peter lowered his head and didn't speak.
Sunlight shone on him, dyeing his brown hair a pale gold. Gwen looked at his profile and suddenly remembered what her mom said in the morning— "Young girls should wear skirts."
She looked down at the pleated skirt she was wearing, then looked at Peter beside her with his red ears.
A strange feeling surged in her heart.
It wasn't the kind of intense impulse, nor was it the kind of heart-pounding excitement. It was something very light, very faint, and very warm, like sunlight, like the morning breeze, like—
"Gwen?" Peter called her again, "We're here."
Gwen looked up and realized they had already walked to the school gate.
Mary Jane was standing at the gate, waving at them.
"Gwen! Peter! Over here!"
Gwen smiled and walked toward Mary Jane.
The moment she walked into the school gate, she looked back.
Peter was still standing there, watching her. Discovering she turned back, he was stunned for a moment, then quickly averted his gaze.
Gwen smiled, shook her head, and continued walking forward.
Forget it.
There's still important business the day after tomorrow.
As for those things about feelings, let's talk about them after the day after tomorrow.