PFC Chapter 3698 The Age of Mercury (8)
Chapter 3698 The Age of Mercury (8)
Chapter 3698 The Age of Mercury (18)
Schiller fully understood the predicament Peter was facing. He was indeed a genius. But as long as he lived as an ordinary person, he would have to confront one of the things that ordinary people fear and least want to face: aging.
Peter isn't 16 anymore. He's almost 30. With age, he's passed the age when his mind was most active and his energy was at its peak, and has become a middle-aged man who needs rest and careful maintenance to stay in shape.
But this is actually a paradox. Peter isn't a businessman; he's a scientist. He needs to spend most of his time in the lab, working day and night when he's busy, leaving him no time to sleep, let alone exercise.
However, without maintaining a certain level of exercise and with irregular eating and resting habits, one will eventually enter a sub-healthy state, requiring more time to recover energy and further compressing research time. If one cannot finish their work immediately, they will be even busier later, with even less time for exercise, leading to more serious health problems and requiring even more rest. This is the vicious cycle of sub-health in modern people.
When Peter was young, he certainly felt he had inexhaustible energy. Even without the help of the spider's power, he remained full of inspiration and energy, able to work for twenty or thirty hours straight without feeling tired.
But as you get older, this obviously won't work. Your energy levels drop, your brain works slower, and you think more quickly, naturally leading to less inspiration. Many people who have worked in creative industries can attest to this.
If Peter were just an ordinary research worker, that would be one thing. But he's reached a point where he has his own research group, his own laboratory, and several research groups under his command. If he can't come up with ideas on his own, the entire group might not produce any results, which would be a complete waste of time and resources.
Peter's life had been smooth sailing thanks to Schiller's arrival. Without his Uncle Ben's death, Peter hadn't yet grasped the harsh realities of life, and still retained many characteristics of an idealist.
He felt that since he could contribute to humanity with his wisdom, he should give his power to others so that he could make a double contribution. Undoubtedly, this was a rather idealistic model, even somewhat naive and innocent.
However, he's recently come to terms with reality. Besides his regular job, he also has to practice his cooking skills and work on the braking system for the flying car. He clearly feels overwhelmed.
During the day, he's fine in the lab; at least he can concentrate on thinking about problems. But after a long day at work, when he's asked to think about what braking methods to improve a flying car, his brain feels like a complete mess, and he just wants to go back to his room and collapse into bed.
Peter was, of course, unwilling to give up. He knew he had the potential to do it, but unfortunately, the equipment wasn't up to par, and his energy was waning. If things continued like this, not producing results would be a minor issue; the real problem would be making himself sick from exhaustion.
He also possessed magical energy and the power of faith, but these weren't quite suited to his body. The Apple of Gold was a consumable item, its duration depending on how much he abused his body; it wasn't a long-term solution. The spider's power was far more compatible with him. However, Miles had already made a successful debut and was quite popular with the citizens of New York. Peter wouldn't ask for what he'd given away back, so he had no choice but to bite the bullet and go find Nick.
But Peter didn't want to seem like he'd gone back on his word, so he had to come up with an excuse. He originally planned to take a minor injury during a dangerous incident and then claim he needed to regain his powers for self-defense—that would seem more natural. However, he and Stark ended up blowing up the kitchen. Now, not only did he regain his Spider-Man powers, but Stark was also required to wear his suit of armor when entering the kitchen; otherwise, two of America's greatest scientists would die in a ridiculous kitchen accident.
“Peter, it was inevitable that you were chosen by the Spider Totem. Because you are the only one in the entire universe who is most compatible with this power. No matter when, the Spider Totem will always welcome you back. You don’t need to feel guilty. Besides, our universe is not short of energy. All the efforts I and the rest of the Avengers and Kamar-Taj have made are so that we won’t have to haggle over every little bit of power in the future. It is our honor that you enjoy the fruits of this labor.”
Peter pursed his lips, his eyes red-rimmed. He was about to say something when, with a bang, the kitchen door was flung open. Natasha strode in, plunged into the liquor cabinet like a javelin, yanked out the strongest bottle of Schiller, slammed it onto the high stool on the island counter like a meteorite, slammed the bottle down, grabbed a glass, filled it to the brim with gusto, tossed her head back, and downed the entire glass in one gulp.
Peter swallowed back all his emotions, and with a hint of fear, he moved to the side. In the end, he simply ran out and joined Stark in tinkering with the flying car.
"What's wrong?" Schiller asked.
Natasha let out a long sigh.
Schiller was quite curious, because Natasha wasn't the type to sigh unless the situation had deteriorated to the point where she couldn't do anything but sigh.
"What happened?"
"Stop grinning like that!" Natasha roared at him. "I haven't settled the score with you for what happened the other day!"
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Schiller looked down at his fingerprints.
"Okay, as you wish, Doctor. Bucky and Clint are about to start fighting! I'm going crazy!"
Schiller's smile widened. He even put down his phone, went to the refrigerator to get some ice for Natasha, and said, "Tell me about it, maybe I can help you."
Natasha rolled her eyes and said, "If you don't have at least 30 episodes of TV dramas in your head right now, I'll eat this cup!"
“It’s only season two, ma’am,” Schiller said with a smile. “Right now, we’re stuck on the climactic fight scenes. Would you mind telling me more about them?”
“If I go into details, your show will never pass censorship,” Natasha said, wiping her lips. “Last night, Bucky and I went to a restaurant. On our way back, we were going to relax a bit. Then Clint called me…”
Schiller glanced to the side. Two brightly lit heads were visible outside the window. He looked up again, and the camera flickered slightly in his direction. The group chat on his phone, which had just pulled him back to reality, was flooded with messages again. Immediately afterward, a voice call came in. Schiller answered it calmly.
Natasha started rambling on about what happened last night. It wasn't anything serious, really; Clint had called when she and Bucky were alone in a room. Then Bucky suddenly realized something and started bringing up old grievances with Natasha.
Natasha felt she didn't have any special feelings for Clint. But Bucky believed that Natasha entrusting Clint with such a crucial decision as whether to stay in the US suggested their relationship was probably more complex. He didn't say it directly, but he was clearly dissatisfied.
“He’s just unhappy that he met me before, but he can’t compete with a 30-year-old,” Natasha said, resting her forehead on her hand. “He keeps asking me if I think he’s old. My God. What am I supposed to say to him? ‘It’s okay, honey, I’m older than you.’ Is that what he wants to hear?”
“You’re not as old as him, are you?” Schiller did the math and said, “Packie was born in 1917, and you were born in 1928, so he’s 11 years older than you.”
“That’s the problem!” Natasha raised her voice. “He insists that the years he was brainwashed and controlled don’t count! Just like the years Captain America was frozen under the ice don’t count! Isn’t that absurd?! Men’s inexplicable competitive spirit…”
Schiller opened his mouth, unsure how to even begin to describe their point of contention. "So you've been discussing all night who's older?"
“No,” Natasha said, scratching her hair in frustration. “Clint called and asked if I would help him with his training. S.H.I.E.L.D. field agents take turns training with each other. The agent who was supposed to be next was on leave and went home. I was indeed next, but the timing was too inconvenient, so I wanted to refuse. But Clint insisted on picking me up the next morning…”
"And then he came?"
"Of course! He even bought breakfast!"
"He's quite considerate."
"For three people!"
“Never mind,” Schiller sighed. “Steve once said his dear BB had a lot of tricks up his sleeve. I think our CBB has quite a few tricks up his sleeve too. So you guys had breakfast together?”
“What do you mean by ‘eat’? Do you think everyone’s like you, spending all their time researching food?” Natasha took another swig of her drink. “If the three of us are together for more than ten minutes, I have to explain what happened between us in the years they don’t know. But how do you think I can explain it?”
"Why can't a woman love two men at the same time?"
"Not at the same time!"
"So you really did love both of them?"
"You damn psychologist!"
Schiller poured himself a glass of plum juice, thought for a moment, and said, "The key now is that both new and old flames want to know if you truly loved them and if you truly loved the other person. But you know you can't answer that question, because once you do, the next step becomes who you loved more. But you probably don't even have the answer to that question yourself."
"What do you think?" Natasha asked bluntly. "Do you think I ever loved either of them? Whom did I love more?"
"The answer to the first question is undoubtedly yes. If you didn't love them, you wouldn't have let them influence such an important decision in your life. That's the kind of person you are, Natasha. The way you prove you love someone is by involving them in your life. When they make a big decision for you, they are there in every step you take afterward. That's the best keepsake for a love story."
"So, what's the second question?"
“As I said, there’s no answer. Because you’re in different eras, different circumstances, and your states of mind are different. The 20% you loved in your first love might be higher than the 70% you loved in your later relationships. There’s simply no way to compare them.”
"What if they insist on making me compete?"
“I really don’t know why you’re bothered by this, ma’am.” Schiller shook his head slightly, looking somewhat puzzled. He looked at Natasha and said, “Especially when you’re not the lead actress in a TV series, but Black Widow, and you have the strength to beat them both up. You’ve beaten them both half to death, who can interrogate you then?”
Natasha paused for a few seconds, then suddenly realized.
Meanwhile, Schiller glanced down at his phone, while Steve, who had already listened to the entire call via voice message, frantically tagged Bucky in the group chat:
"@BB, buddy, you have to live to see my birthday. Now, run!!!"
I had a headache all day, so I went to sleep.