[{"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-31":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},2322599,4544,"Chapter 31: Steve Rogers","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-31",31,"\u003Cp>Compared to Gotham, New York doesn’t rain often; the weather is usually fairly clear, but there are always a few exceptions each year.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>On this day, before dawn, a light drizzle began falling over New York.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>This was bad news for the residents of Hell’s Kitchen—this largest slum in Manhattan received no municipal benefits, no diligent street cleaners, and the rain only turned the streets into thicker mud; if you didn’t want your sneakers ruined, you had to wear heavy rain boots.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The stench of garbage and dust became more pronounced in such weather; Shieler closed the first-floor window, as his alley always had a few drunks vomiting there, the smell unbearable.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Suddenly, the doorbell rang sharply. Shieler glanced at his watch—it was 6:30 a.m. Even in fast-paced New York, this was too early.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler went downstairs and saw a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes, staring at the calendar on his counter.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler said: “Looks like Natasha really booked me someone extraordinary—people who wake up before seven these days are rare.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The man said: “So I’m glad I found a kindred spirit here.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler pulled out the file Natasha had delivered last night, glanced at the photo inside, then sized up the man and said: “Steve Rogers, S.H.I.E.L.D. gave you unlimited therapy slots—they’re spending big. Your problem must be serious.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve shrugged: “They think everything’s serious—even me skipping breakfast to come out.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler tapped the table, signaling him to sit. “That’s a wise decision. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t tell you—if you show up around mealtime, I won’t mind treating you to a meal.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve smiled, his handsome face bright and open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler prepared an American breakfast: toasted bread, fried bacon, two sausages, two large hash browns, and two cups of coffee.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve wasn’t hungry, but the smell of the breakfast was irresistible. He picked up the bread and asked: “Do you have butter?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler looked at him in surprise. “Oh, only strawberry jam.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Then he sized Steve up again. “You’re old-school. Not many people spread butter on bread anymore.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve said: “It’s fine. I’m just not used to sweet jam for breakfast.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then try some sauce—I made it myself.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler pulled out a jar and handed it to Steve.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve glanced again at the tiny coffee cup—barely the size of a bottle cap—filled with rich, concentrated coffee. “Sorry, but could I get an Americano?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Americano? You could just ask for my rinse water,” Shieler said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Meanwhile, Natasha, monitoring from afar, spoke into the comms: “Subject refers to Americano as dirty water. Suspect Italian heritage…”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve didn’t get angry. He just waved his hand. “Hey, don’t say that—I just think espresso is bad for the heart.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before he finished speaking, Shieler downed two shots of espresso, then bit into a large piece of chocolate. The symbiote hummed happily in his mind.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler sat across from Steve, and they began eating breakfast together.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“At first, Nick told me to find a psychologist in the slums myself. I didn’t understand—aren’t S.H.I.E.L.D.’s own doctors good enough?” Steve said.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But now I see your atmosphere is far better than those blindingly white S.H.I.E.L.D. counseling rooms.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Those rooms feel more like courtrooms.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Who’s judging you?” Shieler asked. “The Captain America?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve gave a weary smile. “That’s all ancient history now—including me.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m sure S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted you in their own counseling rooms too—but they probably know those won’t fix your problem.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler put down his fork. “Did you walk here from the street? What do you think of this place? I mean, this slum.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve pursed his lips. “I don’t know how to describe it—it’s terrifying because nothing has changed.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“In my time, slums were the same: filthy, stinking sewers, vomit everywhere, drunks passed out against building corners, gangs couldn’t even find a dime in their pockets, and even kids learned to steal from passersby—never anything good.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Decades have passed, and it’s still the same. No change at all.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“What kind of change do you think decades should bring?” Shieler bit into his bread and asked.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve spread his hands. “Even if we can’t eliminate slums, we should at least shrink them—or make life better for those inside.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler shook his head. “You won the war, Captain America. You truly defeated those bastards. We won. The righteous war ended years ago.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You believed victory should bring benefits—greater prosperity, better lives for those who suffered. You fought to the last moment for them. And you did.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler gave a slight shake of his head. “But decades later, when you woke up, you found the world wasn’t like that. The black world didn’t turn white—it turned gray. A color you don’t understand.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve stayed silent, lips pressed tight. Shieler said: “I know your problem isn’t what S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks—sleeping too long, being out of touch. It’s not about not knowing how to use a phone, liking the radio, or having a rigid schedule.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“For Captain America, if he wanted to learn, there’s nothing in modern society he couldn’t master.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“If he can’t learn, it’s only because he doesn’t want to.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You’re resisting this era. You refuse to accept that the outcome of your struggle didn’t turn out as you hoped.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve spoke bitterly: “I’ve given everything I had. Even if the result isn’t good, I’m trying to accept it. But what hurts most is this: during the war, if people suffered, I’d strike down my enemies—no matter the cost. Now, people still suffer, and I don’t even know who the enemy is.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Have you considered that your era is over? The time when you were responsible for people is over. You don’t have to be a war machine anymore.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Then what should I do? I must do something, right?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler said: “Captain America, you’re so compassionate that even if I suggested you pursue hobbies—like drawing comics or exercising—you’d still never abandon these people’s suffering to enjoy yourself alone. You’re not that kind of person. So I won’t give you useless advice.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I’m sure S.H.I.E.L.D.’s psychologists told you the same thing. Doesn’t everyone in the world know how to enjoy life? They genuinely believe that—if they were you—they’d fly straight to Hawaii on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s dime.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Ordinary people can’t understand your excessive compassion and sense of duty. And you don’t need to worry about their lack of understanding.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve deeply agreed. He finally felt understood. He complained: “They think I have plenty to do—work out, watch movies, play video games. But that’s not what I need to do. When I show resistance, they think I’m outdated, can’t handle modern stuff.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But maybe you should shift your perspective. Don’t seek understanding from ordinary people. The world is vast. You’re not a good man of this era—but every era has good men. Go find them. Only those who once saved the world—or are saving it now—will understand you.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler said: “And these good men of this era aren’t immune to trouble. They don’t live as long as you, don’t have your experience. They may have power but lack skill, passion but no technique, or be scattered, disorganized.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“Go find them. Your era is over, but the Earth still turns. People are still fighting to save this world, aren’t they?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve sighed. “I’m just an outdated soldier who won’t leave the front line. You’re right, Doctor. It’s time for the new recruits to take the battlefield.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“But I wonder—can I really help? The rules of this world seem so different from wartime.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I do have someone I must recommend to you—a lucky kid, with a story like yours. He was just a bullied nerd in school, then suddenly gained immense power. Now he’s running wild through the city, doing nothing serious.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“You know how dangerous sudden power can be. I’m not exaggerating—his power keeps growing. Dozens of trained special forces might not be his match.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve shifted uncomfortably. “Indeed, right after my transformation, I couldn’t control my strength—I accidentally injured two medics. Where is he? Which hospital?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“He’s still in school. He’s studying for finals.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“My God, why is he still in school?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He slammed his fist on the table, speaking into the listening device: “Hey, Nick, what the hell are you doing? How can you let a enhanced soldier stay in school? What if he loses control—how many people will get hurt?”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve stood up. Shieler waved him off. “I said he’s a lucky kid. He’s different from you—not a drug-enhanced soldier, but a special mutation. His power grows gradually, not all at once, uncontrollably.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>“I mean, this kind of teenager—you know, arrogant and sensitive, impulsive yet cowardly. He needs someone to teach him properly. Best if he sees how cruel the world really is.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve clenched his fist. “I’ve seen plenty of rookies like him—charging into battle with Rexue , screaming like babies when they see bombs and grenades. They’re nowhere near ready.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shieler said: “He’ll finish his exam tomorrow night. He’ll definitely go out wandering. You can intercept him, then give him a good beating. Don’t worry—he’s got strong mutation. A beating won’t hurt him.”\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Steve was practically rubbing his hands together—it reminded him of his days on the battlefield, when young recruits were disciplined by their sergeants, screaming in pain. Watching newbies get humiliated was one of the few moments in his military life that felt Qingsong  and joyful.\u003C\u002Fp>",1550,"2026-06-20T16:39:12.484Z",1,"Qwen3-Next 80B","45d38fc27f57916de6c9e968304744c9018048a4cf8432e3b45013d3a4fbe923","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-32","my-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-chapter-30",1000,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Fmy-life-as-a-mental-mentor-in-marvel-cover.jpg"]