On Wednesday afternoon, Lin Mo was replacing the cartridge in an old printer at the repair shop when Carlos suddenly nodded toward the door. "Someone's here for you."
A Chinese auntie in a floral dress stood in the doorway, her hair neatly combed, a laptop cradled in her arms and an uneasy smile on her face. Lin Mo froze for two seconds before recognizing her—she was Martha's mahjong buddy, the one he'd run into in the hallway before. Martha had called her "May."
"Master Lin?" Aunt May's voice was gentle, carrying a slight Southern accent. "Martha said you could fix computers. Could you take a look at mine..." She handed over the laptop. Its screen was covered in pop-ups, all ads for the New York Fortune-Telling Network, with several pictures of scantily clad women flashing across it.
Lin Mo took the laptop. The moment his fingertips touched the casing, he knew it had a virus—he'd seen this sort of pop-up virus countless times in Huaqiangbei, usually picked up by clicking unknown links. "It's fine. Just needs cleaning up." He set the laptop on the workbench and flew over the keyboard, secretly activating the Basic Phasing Ability at the same time. His fingers brushed past the computer ports and avoided a loose USB cable, just in case it gave out.
Aunt May stood beside him, rubbing her hands against her apron in embarrassment. "Is it troublesome? Peter always says I click things carelessly, but that fortune-telling site said I'd meet a benefactor this year..."
"Peter?" Lin Mo's fingers paused, his heart feeling as though it had been brushed by a feather. That name was far too sensitive, especially coming from someone who lived in this building. He looked up with a smile, trying to keep his tone casual. "Kids all know computers. My little sister is always saying I'm hopelessly outdated too."
As they talked, his antivirus software had already found twenty-seven malicious plug-ins. Halfway through cleaning them, the browser suddenly redirected itself to the New York Fortune-Telling Network's homepage. Large red letters read: "Today's Fortune: Meet a benefactor, receive sweets, avoid climbing high."
Aunt May's eyes lit up. "See? See? It really came true! I met you, my benefactor!"
Lin Mo said nothing. He quietly changed the browser homepage to Google, then installed an ad-blocking plug-in while he was at it. "All done. Don't click those pop-ups in the future. Let Peter take a look if anything happens." He handed the computer back, its screen as clean as if it were brand-new.
"Thank you so much!" Aunt May pulled out a plate of snacks wrapped in plastic wrap from her cloth bag. "Try these. I baked the cookies myself. Peter loves them."
Unable to refuse, Lin Mo accepted them. The cookies were still warm. The buttery fragrance mixed with the sweetness of chocolate chips, and as it drifted into his nose, he suddenly remembered the cookies his mother had baked before he crossed over—just like these, slightly burnt around the edges, yet more fragrant than any dessert.
"Oh, right. You live in Martha's basement?" Aunt May suddenly asked. "My apartment's on the third floor. If my computer breaks again, could you..."
"Find me anytime," Lin Mo quickly said. "You don't need to come all the way down here. I pass your door on my way home after work."
Aunt May's eyes curved into crescents as she smiled. "That would be wonderful! Come upstairs for some tea? Peter gets out of school early today. Let him learn from you, so he won't keep hugging that phone all day."
Lin Mo's heartbeat skipped. Go to Aunt May's place? He might meet Peter Parker? Even his palm grew sweaty around the cookies, but he didn't dare agree. "Not today, Auntie. I still have work. Carlos is ruthless about docking pay."
Carlos gave a snort from nearby but said nothing, tacitly accepting the excuse.
Aunt May didn't press him. She left with the computer in her arms and a bright smile on her face. Lin Mo watched her disappear around the stairwell corner before unwrapping the plastic and picking up a cookie. The moment he bit down, the chocolate melted in his mouth, perfectly sweet—one hundred times better than anything from a supermarket.
"Look at you, scared out of your wits." Carlos tossed him a bottle of Coke. "Isn't it just tea at a widow's place?"
"She's not a widow..." Lin Mo instinctively retorted, then froze as soon as the words left his mouth. He had forgotten. In this timeline, Ben Parker might already be dead. Aunt May really was living alone, raising her nephew Peter.
Carlos shrugged and didn't pursue it. But Lin Mo had no mood to work anymore. All he could think about was Aunt May saying Peter "loved climbing all over the place." He remembered the look in her eyes when she mentioned Peter at the repair shop entrance earlier—both proud and helpless, as if she were talking about a little monkey who was always getting into trouble.
"It can't be that much of a coincidence..." Lin Mo muttered. This building was Spider-Man's home. Aunt May was Spider-Man's aunt. Peter Parker was Spider-Man himself—put those pieces together, and the answer was practically staring him in the face.
After work that evening, Lin Mo deliberately detoured to the third floor. Aunt May's door was slightly ajar. From inside came the microwave's ding, followed by a boy shouting, "Aunt May! Where are my cookies?"
Lin Mo's heart leaped. He stood at the doorway, fingers hovering over the doorknob, hesitating for three full minutes—go in? He might directly meet Spider-Man himself, before he was bitten. Or not go in? Yet he couldn't suppress his curiosity.
In the end, he turned and went downstairs. It wasn't time yet, he reminded himself. Peter Parker might still be just an ordinary high school student, without Spider-Sense or superpowers. Approaching him rashly would only disrupt the timeline.
Back in the basement, Lin Mo put the remaining cookies on his desk, reluctant to eat them. He touched the wristband on his arm. Its countdown read: 358 days, 6 hours. Less than a year until his first check-in, and probably around half a year until Peter Parker was bitten by a spider.
Over the next few days, Lin Mo kept running into Aunt May in the hallway. Sometimes she carried a basket of groceries to the supermarket; sometimes she carried Peter's dirty clothes to the laundry room. Every time she saw Lin Mo, she would stuff something into his hands—an apple one day, a slice of cake the next, and even a small jar of doubanjiang after that, saying, "Peter's classmate's mother sent it. A Sichuan specialty."
Lin Mo knew it was her kindness, but he didn't dare accept too much. Every time, he returned the favor with something small—fixing her loose doorknob, replacing the battery in her old phone, even using the Basic Phasing Ability to retrieve a ring stuck in the drain, saving her the cost of calling a plumber.
On Friday evening, Lin Mo had just pulled the repair shop's shutter halfway down when Aunt May stopped him. "Lin, come upstairs and take a look at my refrigerator? The light won't turn on. Peter says it might be the wiring."
"The refrigerator?" Lin Mo hesitated. Fixing it meant going into her kitchen. The chances of seeing Peter were practically one hundred percent.
"It'll be quick. Just take one look." Aunt May grabbed his arm and pulled him upstairs. She was surprisingly strong.
The moment the third-floor door opened, Lin Mo smelled freshly baked bread. The living room was tidy, with a crocheted blanket spread over the sofa. Two photographs hung on the wall—one of Aunt May with a middle-aged man wearing glasses, presumably Ben Parker, and another of a boy by himself.
The boy looked about fifteen or sixteen. He wore a blue-and-white school uniform and black-rimmed glasses, standing foolishly grinning in front of a science fair display while holding up a spider-shaped specimen.
Lin Mo's breathing stopped instantly. It was him. Peter Parker. The boy in the photograph still had baby fat, his eyes as clear as lake water. There was nothing to suggest that he would one day become Spider-Man, swinging between New York's skyscrapers.
"That's Peter. He won an award at last year's science fair." Aunt May followed his gaze, pride in her voice. "He loves fiddling with bottles and jars, and... climbing all over the place."
Lin Mo's gaze swept over the refrigerator, then suddenly froze. Its door was covered in Peter's everyday photos, most taken by Aunt May: Peter swinging a bat at a baseball field, Peter reading in the library, and one taken from below the building—a boy lying across the third-floor windowsill with half his body hanging outside, holding a camera and grinning brightly.
Climbing onto windowsills? Lin Mo's heart pounded wildly. This could no longer be explained as merely "climbing all over the place." It was practically the beginnings of Spider-Man. He remembered watching Spider-Man: Homecoming before crossing over. Peter really did love running around Queens rooftops, calling it "patrolling."
"Where's Peter?" Lin Mo's voice tightened as he pretended to stare at the refrigerator light.
"He's in his room doing homework." Aunt May opened the refrigerator door. Sure enough, the light didn't come on. "Look..."
Lin Mo crouched down and pretended to inspect the wiring, but his eyes kept drifting toward Peter's bedroom door. It was slightly ajar, and he could see tall stacks of books inside. Most had titles like Introduction to Quantum Physics and Biological Gene Maps, dense reading utterly out of place for a boy his age.
He drew a deep breath and concentrated on the sounds in the room—there was the scratch of a pen against paper, and also... faint climbing noises? Like someone gripping a bedframe to do pull-ups.
"The wire connection is loose." Lin Mo tapped the bottom of the refrigerator, activated the Basic Phasing Ability, and slipped his fingertip through the casing to gently nudge the loose wire. With a pop, the refrigerator light came on, warm yellow light illuminating Aunt May's delighted face.
"Amazing! Lin, you're incredible!" Aunt May insisted on keeping him for dinner. "Peter bought pizza. We've been waiting for you."
Lin Mo was about to decline when Peter's bedroom door suddenly opened. A tall, skinny boy stood in the doorway, his glasses slipping down his nose. His T-shirt bore the words "Empire State University," and he was exactly the teenager from the photograph.
"Aunt May, I..." Peter's words caught when he saw Lin Mo. His eyes widened like bells, and he instinctively hid his hand behind his back. From the corner of his eye, Lin Mo saw that he was clutching a spider-shaped metal toy, while one of his legs was still twitching.
"This is Master Lin. He fixed our refrigerator and computer." Aunt May took Peter by the arm. "Hurry and thank him."
"Th-thank you." Peter's face immediately turned red, and he even stuttered. Yet his eyes scanned Lin Mo's repair shop uniform like a scanner before settling on the half-exposed screwdriver in his pocket.
Lin Mo smiled and stood up. "No need to thank me. We're neighbors." He deliberately emphasized the word "neighbors" as he looked into Peter's eyes. "I heard you're really good at science? My little sister likes this stuff too. She always says I'm technologically illiterate."
Peter's eyes brightened, as though he had found common ground. "Science is really interesting! Like a spider's silk glands—their strength is greater than steel wire. If we could synthesize it artificially..." He suddenly realized he had said too much and hurriedly shut his mouth, his face turning even redder.
The stone in Lin Mo's heart finally dropped. Yes, it was him. Only Peter Parker could be so obsessed with spiders. Only he would study biological genetics at this age, and only he would hide something spider-related behind his back.
At dinner, Peter really was as Aunt May had said. He didn't talk much, but his eyes were always moving, occasionally glancing out the window. Halfway through the meal, police sirens suddenly sounded outside. The pizza nearly fell from Peter's hands as he sprang to his feet. "I... I'll go see if I've finished my homework."
"That child." Aunt May shook her head helplessly. "He gets nervous whenever he hears sirens. He keeps saying he wants to 'keep the neighborhood safe,' just like his uncle."
Lin Mo watched Peter rush into his room, unable to stop the corners of his mouth from lifting. Keep the neighborhood safe? He probably wanted to sneak out and be a "volunteer patrolman." He lowered his head and took a bite of pizza, suddenly feeling that this shabby apartment building was more interesting than Stark Tower.
When he was leaving after dinner, Peter suddenly rushed out of his room and stuffed an envelope into Lin Mo's hand. "This is... for fixing the refrigerator."
There were five dollars in the envelope, the bill wrinkled as if it had been dug out of a piggy bank. Lin Mo pushed the money back and said with a smile, "Really, no need. Just teach me some science next time. Call it an exchange."
Peter blanked for a moment, then suddenly pulled a small notebook from his pocket, scribbled down a string of characters, and handed it over. "This is my email. You can ask me if you have science questions! I know biology and physics, and I'm decent at chemistry too..."
"Okay." Lin Mo accepted the note. The handwriting was wild and sprawling, with a simple spider drawn at the end.
On the way downstairs, Lin Mo touched the wristband on his arm. Its countdown seemed to have ticked faster: 357 days, 23 hours. He looked up at the third-floor window. Peter's silhouette was sprawled across the sill, binoculars in hand, their lenses reflecting distant police lights.
Back in the basement, Lin Mo copied Peter's email address into a notebook and drew a tiny spider beside it. He picked up one of Aunt May's cookies, and as he bit into it, even the basement's mildew smell suddenly didn't seem so unbearable.
Over the next few days, Lin Mo kept "running into" Peter. Sometimes it was in the hallway, with Peter rushing past under a backpack, saying he was headed to a science fair. Sometimes it was outside the repair shop, where he pretended to be passing by while his eyes drifted toward the electronic components on the workbench. The most interesting time was when Lin Mo was hanging blankets on the rooftop terrace because the basement was too damp. He actually spotted Peter clinging to the drainpipe of the building across from them, camera in hand. When Peter saw him, he nearly fell off.
"Practicing rock climbing?" Lin Mo called out with a smile.
Peter reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. He scrambled back onto the roof, face bright red. "E-exercising!" After saying that, he grabbed his backpack and ran. Something fell out of it—Lin Mo caught it with the Basic Phasing Ability and discovered it was a homemade Web-Shooters model, still sticky.
Lin Mo placed the model outside Peter's door with a note: "Good materials, but the trigger is too loose. Recommend replacing the spring."
The next day, a plate of snacks appeared outside his door, along with a note in Peter's handwriting: "Thanks! I'll teach you how to make a simple circuit next time."
Looking at the cookies, Lin Mo suddenly felt that life in the Marvel Universe didn't seem so hard to endure. He didn't need to go to Stark Tower to meet superheroes, nor did he need to wait a year for his check-in to feel warmth—it was right here in this shabby apartment building, in the scent of Aunt May's cookies, in Peter's shy, red-faced voice discussing science.
On Friday night, Lin Mo was fixing Martha's television—her soap opera had frozen again—when he suddenly heard a loud bang outside, followed by Peter's scream.
He rushed out and saw Peter had fallen from the second-floor balcony. He was lying on the ground, rubbing his arm, with a broken camera rolling beside him. "Are you okay?" Lin Mo hurried over to help him up.
"I-I'm fine!" Peter hastily got to his feet. His elbow was scraped, blood seeping out. "I was just taking... taking night photos. My foot slipped."
Lin Mo looked at the wound on Peter's arm and suddenly remembered the wristband's health scan function. He pretended to brush dust off Peter, his fingertips passing over the scrape—the wristband's pale blue words flashed through his mind: [Minor abrasion. No fracture. Healing speed slightly faster than normal (possibly due to unusual constitution).]
"Go back and disinfect it," Lin Mo said, helping him up. "Aunt May will worry."
Peter nodded and limped toward the stairwell. At the entrance, he suddenly stopped and looked back at Lin Mo. His eyes held a complicated emotion, as though he were trying to confirm something.
Lin Mo stood where he was and watched Peter disappear through the door. He lowered his head to look at his palm, which still retained the warmth of Peter's wound. He knew that before long, this teenager who loved climbing all over the place would be bitten by a radioactive spider, then swing his first strand of Webbing through the night skies of Queens.
And he, Lin Mo, a repair apprentice from another world, would witness that transformation.
The wristband on his arm warmed slightly, as though responding to his heartbeat. Lin Mo smiled and turned back toward the basement. One last cookie remained. He decided to save it for Peter the next time he came to fix something—an early celebration for his becoming New York's best neighbor, its best hero.
Moonlight shone through the small window, casting a spider-shaped patch of light across the floor like some mysterious omen. Lin Mo picked up his notebook and drew another tiny lightning bolt beside Peter's email address—it was his own mark.
In this crisis-ridden Marvel Universe, having a neighbor who understood science didn't seem so bad.
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