Chapter Sixteen: The Invitation

Because they needed to travel at night, Martha was extremely worried and sent several bodyguards to accompany them. Michael felt these bodyguards were a bit unnecessary, but in order to put Martha at ease, he let them tag along.

Arriving at George’s apartment door, Michael knocked politely. After all, he didn’t possess the kind of talent that allowed him to climb into someone’s window upon merely learning their address. Especially since it was on the twentieth floor or higher—finding Gwen’s window precisely would require either the director’s script or Peter shadowing Gwen.

The door creaked open to reveal a woman who looked to be in her forties. Foreigners tend to age quickly, especially those who have given birth to three children.

“Mrs. Helen, I’m Gwen’s classmate. My name is Michael Morbius.”

“Oh, Michael, welcome, welcome,” Helen replied, leading Michael into the room. Although their income was modest, thanks to George’s position, they still lived in a luxurious home.

“This is a small token of my appreciation. Please, accept it.”

Helen glanced at the gift box and said, “Isn’t this too expensive?”

“Not at all. I took it directly from the company; it didn’t cost me anything.”

“Osborn’s involved in the toy business now?”

“No, not really. I made these myself from leftover materials during my spare time. Now that I’m older, I don’t play with them anymore. I heard Gwen has two younger brothers, so I thought I’d bring these as gifts.”

“How thoughtful of you.” Mrs. Helen was overjoyed. Where could you find such a polite young man nowadays?

Michael had deliberately chosen these gifts, but he said they were nothing special to avoid making them seem too extravagant. After all, this was his first visit; he couldn’t afford to be overly forward.

Inside, two boys were watching TV on the sofa, while George was reading the newspaper.

“George, we have a guest.”

George put down his newspaper and stood to shake Michael’s hand warmly.

“Michael—may I call you that?”

“Of course.”

From George’s demeanor, it seemed he had already looked into Michael.

“I didn’t expect someone so young to already be a distinguished doctor. Truly astonishing.”

“I’m flattered. I was just an early bird. If not for my illnesses, I’d have grown up slowly under my parents’ care, much like Gwen.”

“I’m sure with your intelligence, you’ll cure yourself.”

“Yes, I’m already on the verge of a breakthrough.”

George’s expression softened considerably; he certainly didn’t want his daughter marrying someone disabled.

“University is just around the corner. Has anyone written you a letter of recommendation?”

Michael was speechless for a moment.

Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m a recognized PhD in biochemistry.

“You don’t need to worry. If necessary, I can write one for myself.”

“Oh.” George realized that Michael was already a prominent figure in both the fields of biochemistry and medicine—any university would be eager to have him.

After a moment, George noticed Michael seemed a bit uncomfortable, so he said, “Gwen is in her room doing homework. Why don’t you go keep her company? I’m sure you young people have more to talk about.”

Finally able to escape, Michael couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

Hearing the door, Gwen turned and saw Michael.

“Hey, Michael, you don’t look well.”

“Your dad is like an old busybody, and incredibly sharp. He always manages to ask the most pointed questions.”

Michael wiped the sweat from his brow. Staring down a police chief for so long had been quite taxing.

“Of course. He’s the chief of police in New York,” Gwen replied with a smile.

“Have you decided which school you’ll attend?”

Gwen smiled again. “I haven’t decided yet. What about you?”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay in New York.”

“Oh.” Gwen paused. “I had considered going abroad, but I gave up on that idea.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m Spider-Woman.”

Michael glanced at her but said nothing.

America is hardly a country worth believing in. Everywhere is terrible here. Crime peaks at dusk; women are even afraid to walk alone at night. This is a land ruled by the wealthy and powerful, devoid of faith. Michael truly didn’t know how to love it, nor did he wish to give anything to it.

He found himself a little nostalgic for Huaxia.

“A hero… To be a hero is to make sacrifices,” Michael said, as if sighing, as if reminiscing.

“If you had superpowers, would you help others?” Gwen looked at Michael, feeling that he understood her.

“No, I’m quite selfish.”

Gwen was surprised by his answer. In her eyes, Michael seemed like a warmhearted person—after all, he had saved so many seriously ill people, given them new hope, and encouraged her as well.

Keisha: Perhaps you’re not selfish. You just don’t feel like you belong here.

Michael silently replied in his heart, Thanks.

Then he turned to Gwen. “Could you do me a favor?”

“What kind of favor?”

“I need someone’s genes.”

“Genes?” Gwen was puzzled. What did he need those for? Was it for scientific research?

“Yes, the X gene.”

Gwen looked even more confused. What did he want with someone’s X gene? After Michael explained what the X gene was, Gwen understood.

She agreed.

A mutant’s X gene doesn’t refer to the sex chromosomes XY, but to an unknown gene. It’s said the existence of mutants is the plot of ancient gods, though Michael didn’t know the specifics. But there is one person whose unknown gene is rather ordinary—it seems useless, but to Michael, it is essential.

That person is Warren Kenneth. His family ranks among the world’s top five hundred enterprises, and he possesses a pair of angelic wings. Other than that, he only has super endurance, regeneration, adaptation to high altitudes, and raptor vision. After being transformed by Apocalypse, his wings became metal and could be launched as projectiles.

He seemed rather useless, yet this might be part of the angel gene, the very thing Michael needed most.

“Dinner’s ready. You two come eat.”

Sitting at the table, sure enough, the main dish was lemon sea bass.

This dish nearly made Peter question his existence; with knife and fork in hand, he didn’t know where to begin.

He whispered to Gwen, “Your family’s taste is really unique.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and told him he didn’t have to eat it if he didn’t want to.

Michael smiled, picked up a carving knife, and expertly skinned and deboned the sea bass, separating the flesh, skin, and bones completely.

Mrs. Helen noticed he wasn’t eating and asked with concern, “Is it not to your liking?”

Michael replied, “Not at all. I just prefer to prepare everything first and then eat it all at once—it’s more satisfying that way.”

Truthfully, Michael thought the fish’s scales hadn’t been cleaned properly, so he wanted to remove the skin completely. Also, pan-fried fish tends to be flaky; if you cut and stab as you eat, it might fall apart, so he divided it beforehand.

Watching Michael’s technique, George commented, “You’d make an excellent forensic examiner.”

“If you ever need me, I can do a cameo. After all, I am a PhD in biochemistry and an expert in medicine.”

George nodded. In his experience, the most professional criminals were always the highly educated ones—they could turn murder into an art, leaving very few clues. Even if you caught their trail, it was hard to convict them.

“Let’s hope it never comes to that.”