[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel":3,"chapter-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-144":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"chinese","My Life as a Mental Mentor in Marvel",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},2322712,4544,"Chapter 144","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-144",144,"\u003Cp>“You’re saying there’s a problem with the reactor in Mr. Stark’s chest?” Peter asked Ethan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Peter, you’re smart…” Ethan put an arm around Peter’s shoulder and turned to look at him. “Even if you just think about it for a moment, you should know how dangerous it is to embed a power source that works on this principle inside your body.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter said with deep concern: “Then what can we do? Can’t we design something new to replace it?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course, Tony’s a genius—if he truly sets his mind on something, he’ll succeed. But what if he doesn’t want to?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>How could he not want to? This is about his own life... Peter stopped mid-sentence. Ethan said: You've noticed it too, haven't you? Tony's mindset has turned negative. He keeps thinking about dying like a hero instead of thinking about how to live.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter remembered the image of Stark flying without hesitation toward the High Tower, ignoring all his pleas—this posture, beyond heroism, carried the unmistakable scent of rushing toward death.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter sighed, sat down on the chair, and laid one arm on the table. “I heard from Dr. Shiler about what Stark’s been through lately. Honestly, it’s heartbreaking.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What should I do?” Peter spread his hands. “I want to help him, but I might not be able to help with the technical side.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Stark doesn’t need anyone to help him technically. I think you should try talking to him.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ethan leaned against the lab bench next to Peter and looked at him. “Haven’t you noticed? Stark treats you differently. We’re his friends, but there are things he never listens to friends about. But maybe you’re different.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After Ethan left, Peter stood alone in the lab, staring blankly, beginning to recall every moment he’d spent with Stark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>At first, atop the New York TV Tower, Stark had told Peter about his experiences in Afghanistan.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That day, when they were still strangers, Stark had told Peter that being a hero hurts.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only later did Peter realize Stark wasn’t the kind to complain about pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter could imagine—embedding a reactor in one’s chest, no matter how powerful, no matter how strong the armor it powered—must be excruciating for the body’s owner.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The lab lights were dim, only the glow of instruments weaving across the floor. Spider-Man wasn’t immune to fatigue; after a day of fighting, Peter felt weary and drowsy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In a daze, he seemed to see Stark sitting on the floor before him, back against the lab bench, holding a model of the reactor.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter remembered asking Stark what the model on his desk was. Stark had been silent for a long time, then finally said only one name—Howard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter had faintly heard that name from others—Steve told Peter Howard had been his old comrade, also a genius, but equally a drunkard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Natasha had mentioned the name too, but never said anything good. Nick had also hinted at Stark’s father, but never offered Peter any memorable evaluation.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Like his own father, Peter thought—he’d only ever heard the name and vague descriptions from Uncle Ben and Aunt May.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Father, Peter thought—the word felt impossibly distant to him.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter’s drowsiness deepened. In what felt like a dream, he saw Stark set down the model, then close his eyes, as if falling asleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In every such late night, in the empty lab of Stark Tower, Iron Man did feel pain.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He always said Howard wasn’t the person he should think of in pain—but in each of these nights, who Iron Man truly thought of, no one knew.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Peter’s deeper dream, he dreamed Stark had become his father.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>There were no advanced devices from Stark Industries, no luxurious surroundings, none of the wealth Peter couldn’t even imagine.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>His childhood was still trapped in that old house, memories still of half-worn clothes, toys that barely filled a box, and storybooks worn thin from repeated reading.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But uniquely different—he had a father. A father who dismantled toy cars with him, built all kinds of machines from Lego blocks.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Together they used marbles as planets, arranging a solar system map on the worn floor. In the narrow room, sunset light fell on these simple toys. Tall Stark and young Peter stared intently at the glass beads on the floor—this father and son seemed to own the entire universe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Their appearances began to change. Peter saw Stark become Howard, and himself become young Stark.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Howard gently nudged a marble, revealing countless cosmic secrets from his lips. The glow of the glass beads grew brighter, then blinding.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter saw a father and son holding hands, standing above Earth. All planets in the solar system obeyed their command—even the sun dimmed its light at the father’s order. Planets spun endlessly, countless lights flickered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Mars, Venus, Jupiter…\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Knowledge too profound for a child echoed silently through the universe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before Peter’s consciousness plunged into darkness, the final image he recalled was Stark handing him the first-generation Web-Slinger suit. Stark’s mask lifted, and those brown eyes, bathed in sunlight, were as rich and warm as molten honey.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter was certain—he saw two utterly different emotions in those eyes: the weariness of a father, and the innocence of a child.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Night grew deeper. Stark lay on his hospital bed. He was exhausted, but his lifelong habit of staying up late kept him awake.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Just as he felt uncomfortable and tried to turn over, he heard the door handle shift slightly. He strained to turn his head and saw the door open a crack—light spilled in. Peter squeezed through the gap and quietly closed the door.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter turned and saw Stark’s slightly glowing eyes fixed on him. He seemed startled, then awkwardly said: “Uh… Mr. Stark, you’re not asleep yet? I thought…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Why are you here now? Aren’t you going to sleep?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I… I had insomnia, couldn’t sleep. Uh, actually I already slept, but I suddenly woke up…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Has no one ever told you that when you lie, your speech is always jumbled?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter slumped. “I knew it—I’ve never been good at lying since I was a kid.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“So why are you here? If it’s about lab work, we can talk tomorrow.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I was almost asleep,” Stark rolled over, turning his back to Peter, signaling he intended to sleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter lowered his head. He didn’t turn on the light. He walked quietly to the chair beside the bed and sat down. He remained silent for so long he thought Stark had fallen asleep.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then, almost against his will, he spoke: “Mr. Stark… could you tell me about your father?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark remained silent. Peter felt he’d been cruel, but he continued: “I don’t mean anything by it. You know… I’ve never met my father. When people hear my story, they never mention their own parents—not even Gwen.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark’s figure on the bed twitched slightly. Peter said: “Alright, actually, I just had a dream, that’s why I couldn’t sleep. I dreamed of my father—but maybe not my father, since I’ve never seen him, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>After a long silence, Stark finally sighed. He rolled back, staring straight at the ceiling. “Howard was a drunk. Drank himself into a stupor every day.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When he was drunk, he cursed everything. A crude bastard. When sober, the one thing he said most often to me was: ‘You don’t understand anything.’”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Of course I didn’t understand anything—I was only a few years old.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I was naturally drawn to cars, loved tinkering with metal parts. But whenever I built something, he never praised me—only called it junk.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Alcohol burned out the brain he was so proud of.” Stark sneered. “So in his final years, he produced not a single worthy invention.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Look at me now! Stark Industries is better than ever! I’ve created more inventions that change the world!”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He was wrong. Hopelessly wrong. Young Stark didn’t understand nothing—*he* was the one who understood nothing. Howard Stark…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Looking at silent Peter, Stark turned his face away. “You didn’t hear the story you wanted, did you? You expected something else? That we were close? That he taught me, guided me step by step in invention?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark lowered his eyelids. When half-closed, his long lashes cast thick shadows over his brown eyes.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Peter looked down, clasped his hands over his chin, and said: “Before, I never dreamed of my father. I never thought of him, because I’d never seen him. My memory holds nothing of him—I had nothing to dream about.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark glanced at him, then said: “Well… maybe there were some good times. Maybe… long ago, so long I barely remember… I recall standing beside a lab bench with him. What we did exactly—I don’t remember. But there were times…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark turned his head to look at Peter, but didn’t see sorrow on Peter’s face. In Peter’s still-boyish features, there was none of the loneliness or grief he expected.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark thought—perhaps that was normal. Peter had lived this way for over a decade. In his life, Uncle Ben had played the role of father, though only partially.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ben Parker was an ordinary man. He gave Peter everything best in himself—strength and kindness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But Peter was a genius. Stark knew this better than anyone. A genius needed resonance—someone to exchange ideas with, to spark thoughts against.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>When Peter and Stark locked eyes, both realized—it truly proved the saying: geniuses are always alone.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark saw Peter’s gaze fall on the reactor in his chest. He laid his head flat, continued staring at the ceiling, watching the fleeting lights from outside window cast shifting shapes upon it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If this reactor isn’t fixed, you’ll die, right?” Peter asked. “I heard it from Ethan.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“They always overreact. I’m fine. I…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You don’t know how I felt when my Spider-Sense showed me your death,” Peter said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The Vegetable Skeleton’s Wilderness Colonization\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark heard a tremor in his voice.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Stark Tower’s lab equipment is advanced. I love the environment here. The décor is luxurious—I’ve never lived anywhere this good.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But more importantly, no one ever taught me how to build equipment, how to conduct experiments. No one ever stood beside me at a lab bench, assembling parts, testing prototypes…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“When my Spider-Sense told me all this was ending, I couldn’t accept it…” Peter’s voice dropped low, the final syllable landing on the floor, nearly dissolving on contact.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark closed his eyes. His Adam’s apple trembled. “What do you want me to say? That I’ll tell you outright: in one year and three months, it might all be over?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In Stark’s dark vision, he began searching through distant memories, hunting for faint fragments.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Trying to recall the good times he’d once shared with Howard.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>That night, as he fumbled through these memory shards from the cracks, Stark finally admitted—he missed them.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Tonight, his pain was stronger than any other night—and so was this longing.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Howard wasn’t the person he should think of in pain, because those good times were gone forever. His father was dead.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Only now did Stark realize: when he became a father, he understood—any father would rather live long, so his child never had to remember him in pain, so those good times never ended.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Stark felt his will to live stronger than ever—he didn’t want to become Howard, the man he hated most.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He didn’t want his death to be a sudden end, forcing his child to forever be reminded: those good times were gone, never to return.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>So his child would be forced to forget—to tear apart the happiest, brightest days of his life, bury them in the farthest corner of memory, deny their existence.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In this silent night, no one saw: as Stark slept, his aging skin, traced by veins, was gripped tightly by his fingers around the hospital bed rail—just as he’d gripped that model on countless nights.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>No one knew that in Peter’s next dream, he saw again that unfamiliar night sky. The lingering memories sharpened in his dream—he heard two gunshots, saw a string of scattered pearl beads.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>In his hazy dream, the previous dream returned. Peter saw another world, another father and son, hand in hand, walking slowly toward the universe.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He saw—the good times, hidden behind that black tide, even the Bat himself might never find.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>-R: The Batman Event (Complete)\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>——————Author’s Note——————\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Ten thousand characters today!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>First Marvel event completed! Feel free to leave your thoughts and suggestions in the comments—I read them all!\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Please vote and tip!\u003C\u002Fp>",2068,"2026-06-20T16:39:12.484Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","5246d33ac48eaefe0472772c15a27348f2c0abe417e28d4f6f21e99235ec95d4","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-145","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-143",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]