Peter composed himself, opened his bedroom door, and walked downstairs.
A faint aroma of rye wafted through the dining room.
Uncle Ben sat at the table flipping through the morning paper, while Aunt May was serving the last plate of rye pancakes.
Seeing him come down, Aunt May immediately set the plate down and walked over, reaching out to gently touch his forehead.
“It’s good that the fever broke.
The doctor said you had an allergic reaction—you scared us to death.” She rambled on, pushing a glass of warm milk toward him.
“Eat something quickly to settle your stomach, then come with me across the street to Anna’s place.
Their girl just moved in and is a bit shy, so stick around and help out.” Peter pulled out a chair, sat down, and poked the pancakes on his plate with a fork.
The dry rye pancake looked unappetizing.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he took a bite anyway—sure enough, just as expected, it tasted like cardboard.
“Aunt May, did you get this recipe online?” he asked vaguely.
“That’s right, it says it clears out toxins—perfect for you right now,” Aunt May said with a proud smile.
Beside her, Uncle Ben put down his newspaper and couldn’t help laughing.
“You can’t believe everything on the internet.
You’re just tormenting the poor boy.” The family joked and laughed, and the atmosphere was warm and cozy.
As Peter ate his pancake, a gentle warmth rose in his heart.
These were Peter Parker’s family members.
Plain and ordinary, yet giving him all their tenderness.
It was no wonder the original host carried a lifetime of guilt over Uncle Ben’s death.
No one could bear to lose a family like this.
He secretly resolved in his heart that no matter what, he would guard this peace.
*** Around noon, Aunt May packed up and brought him across the street to the Watson home.
Just after knocking on the door, a rush of hurried footsteps came from the stairs.
A red-headed girl rushed down taking two steps at a time, holding a grayish-white hairdryer in her hand, frowning and muttering, “Aunt Anna, this hairdryer is broken again, I—” Mid-sentence, she screeched to a halt, coming face-to-face with Peter at the door.
The girl’s hair was still wet, water dripping from the ends onto her fair neck.
She wore a simple purple tank top and green shorts, revealing slender arms and legs, her emerald green eyes wide with a hint of caught-off-guard fluster.
It was Mary Jane Watson.
Unlike her glamorous depiction on screen, the young girl before him possessed a fresh, youthful vitality, like a red rose sprinkled with morning dew.
Peter smiled and spoke up, “Looks like I picked a good time to drop by?” Mary Jane’s face flushed bright red in an instant.
Aunt May and Aunt Anna both froze, exchanging a look of surprise.
In their memory, Peter was a shy nerd who lowered his head whenever he met girls.
When had he ever taken the initiative to strike up a conversation with a girl like this?
“You’re Peter?” Mary Jane recovered first, smoothing the stray hair behind her ear, pretending to be calm as she asked.
“Peter Parker.” Peter nodded, his gaze falling on the hairdryer in her hand.
“Is that thing broken?” “Yeah, it suddenly stopped spinning.” Mary Jane handed the hairdryer over with a helpless look.
Peter took it, weighed it in his hand, and tapped the casing with his fingers.
An internal structural diagram instantly flashed through his mind.
This was Peter Parker’s mechanical talent carved into his very bones, and now it belonged entirely to him.
“The motor burned out, not a big problem.” He looked up at Aunt Anna.
“I’ll go to the hardware store and buy a small replacement motor.
It’ll be fixed in no time.” “Oh my, that’s so much trouble for you, Peter.” Aunt Anna was overjoyed and hurriedly urged Mary Jane upstairs to change.
“Hurry up and change into some proper clothes to go with Peter, so he has some company on the way.” By the time Mary Jane came down wearing jeans and a hoodie, the two stepped out the door side by side.
The afternoon sunlight dappled the street through the tree leaves.
Peter wasn’t timid or awkward like his predecessor; instead, he took the initiative to start conversations, chatting from school courses to recent movies.
He was witty and talkative, occasionally dropping a well-timed joke that made Mary Jane laugh continuously.
She had been a bit restrained at first, but as they talked, she relaxed.
The curiosity in her eyes grew stronger as she looked at Peter.
She had heard Aunt Anna say that Peter across the street was a quiet, introverted top student, but the boy before her was composure personified, humorous, with eyes full of light—completely different from the rumored nerd.
After buying the motor parts, the two stopped by a small diner on the way back for lunch.
As they chatted, the conversation turned to recent news.
“Did you see the news?
Iron Man seems to be building an expo in Queens.” Mary Jane rested her chin on her hand, a hint of yearning in her eyes.
“Honestly, I think superheroes are so cool, having the power to protect others.” Peter took a sip of Coke and shook his head upon hearing that.
“It’s cool, but the price is steep.
You live every day on the edge of a knife.
If you win, nobody thanks you; if you lose, you’re ruined forever.” He was speaking from the heart.
He had seen too many tragic regrets in Spider-Man’s life and knew deeply that behind that glamorous exterior lay countless sacrifices and loneliness.
Mary Jane froze for a moment.
She didn’t refute, but softly said, “But if people with power all hide away, what happens to ordinary people?
They can’t just wait for disaster to pass on its own.” Peter’s fingers holding the cup paused slightly.
He looked at the girl’s earnest profile, an unexplainable stir rising in his heart.
He didn’t continue the topic, merely lowering his head to take two bites of food, casually steering the conversation elsewhere.
*** Over the next few days, Peter entered a complete “double life” mode.
During the day, using the excuse of recovering from illness, he either found reasons to tutor Mary Jane with her schoolwork or accompanied her to get familiar with the surroundings, rapidly pulling their relationship closer.
At night, he dove headfirst into the small basement laboratory.
Though his mouth claimed he wouldn’t be a hero, his body was more honest than his mind.
Spider-Man’s web-shooters were something almost every Marvel fan dreamed of.
Now that he had Peter’s genius brain and ready-made experimental conditions, if he didn’t make them with his own hands, his heart would itch unbearably.
The formula for the web-fluid was far more complex than imagined.
To achieve instant solidification upon contact with air, high elasticity, heavy load capacity, and automatic degradation after a certain period without leaving a trace, every single parameter required precise adjustment.
Relying on the repository of knowledge in his mind, Peter worked through the night mixing reagents, failing time and again.
On the third night, he mixed the dosage incorrectly.
The liquid in the test tube instantly boiled and splashed outward.
Luckily, his reaction speed was fast, and he dodged in time to avoid disfigurement.
Looking at the charred patch splattered on the wall and the messy lab bench, Peter wasn’t discouraged at all; instead, his eyes lit up.
The direction of the reaction just now was correct—it only needed a final minor adjustment in proportions.
After pulling two more all-nighters, late Friday night, a soft sound came from the basement.
Peter looked at the clear liquid with a faint blue tint in the test tube.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up a dropper, took a drop, and dripped it onto the lab bench.
The moment the liquid touched the air, it solidified at a speed visible to the naked eye, turning into a slender, tough white thread.
He pulled at it with tweezers—the thread stretched very long, full of resilience, and slowly snapped back when released.
It worked.
The first-generation web-fluid formula was successfully developed.
Load capacity close to three hundred pounds, duration around twenty minutes.
Although it couldn’t match the perfect version in the original comics, it was already more than enough.
Peter let out a sigh of relief, leaning back against the chair to rub his temples.
Looking at the web-fluid raw solution in the test tube, he spaced out again.
After going through all this trouble to make it, what now?
Was it really just going to sit in a corner gathering dust?
He shook his head, pushing those messy thoughts down.
Now that it was made, he could consider it fulfilling a tech-geek’s obsession.
At worst, it could serve as a self-defense tool—there was no harm in that.
*** The next afternoon, while Peter was researching the launcher structure using two of Uncle Ben’s old wristwatches, his bedroom door was suddenly pushed open with a *bang*.
Mary Jane burst in excitedly, waving two tickets in her hand.
“Peter!
Look what I got!
*Hamlet* at the Apollo Theater tonight, prime seats!
Are you coming?” Peter looked up at her sparkling eyes, and the lingering hesitation in his heart vanished in an instant.
“I’m coming.
Of course I am.” *** Uncle Ben and Aunt May were initially worried about it being unsafe coming back late at night, but unable to withstand the duo’s soft and persistent coaxing, they finally nodded in agreement.
Before leaving, Uncle Ben pulled Peter aside, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, stuffed it into his hand, and patted his shoulder.
“Have fun, don’t make the girl feel neglected.” The old man smiled, his tone growing a bit solemn.
“Remember, Peter, with great power comes great responsibility.” Peter held the paper bill, his heart skipping a sudden beat.
He had heard this phrase countless times, but coming out of Uncle Ben’s mouth, it felt heavy, pressing on his heart like a stone.
He nodded without speaking.
The two boarded the train bound for Manhattan.
Mary Jane was still excitedly chatting about the theater troupe, while Peter looked at the rapidly receding streetscape outside the window, an ominous foreboding rising softly in his mind.
Manhattan, Apollo Theater, Harlem…
A terrifying thought suddenly flashed into his mind.
At this point in time…
could they be walking right into that earth-shattering battle between Hulk and Abomination?