"Who's this?"
Ji Yu had no idea how to hide behind Tang Li and pretend she wasn't with him. Her mind went completely blank, her heart hanging in her chest—she couldn't tell if it was fear or some other emotion.
"Publicity Department… Ji Yu…"
As soon as she said it, her heart gave a sharp jolt. Under Mo Yachen's gaze, she quietly ducked behind Tang Li.
"Was there a mistake on your form? All the applications this year were approved by me, and I clearly remember it said your gender was male."
"If this is just some kind of little game between you two, there's still time to fix it. Come to the Student Union office in Building 3 tomorrow and change it."
Ji Yu nodded hard, then grabbed Tang Li and bolted without even saying goodbye. Behind them, Mo Yachen tilted his head slightly, his eyes behind the glasses turning cold as he watched their backs—until—
Smack!
A sharp pain landed on his back.
"Mo Xunhan, watch yourself!"
A tall woman with a high ponytail and a denim jacket slung an arm over his shoulder, studying her younger brother's scowl with amused interest.
"That's how you talk to your own sister? Or is it…"
She turned her head toward the fleeing boy and girl ahead. "You've got a thing for someone else's girlfriend?"
Ji Yu had no idea what happened after that.
She just ran, dragging Tang Li with her.
She didn't even know why she always felt so tense—almost afraid—whenever she faced Mo Yachen.
"Why didn't you tell me when you ran into him? And since when are you two so familiar?"
By the time they'd checked out of the supermarket, it was almost 5:30. The setting sun fell across the girl's figure, and in those beautiful eyes of hers, there was only him.
"Isn't it a good thing? He can fix your info. As for being familiar… well, am I any different with anyone else?"
Central heating—knows it, too. People like that naturally get along with everyone, but they're also the kind who'll never belong to just one person.
"What if… I turn back?"
It was half a sulky retort, half a spoiled plea. "Maybe I'll just have another dream tonight and change back."
"Then just don't tell anyone who you are."
"I…"
Right—what was she thinking? Why be so honest? Why keep no secrets, like a child blurting out everything?
They stopped talking after that, waiting at the bus stop like strangers. The street ahead stretched out, cars passing with golden halos from the sunset. On the edge of this bustling university district, there was an odd kind of lonely beauty.
On the bus, Tang Li let Ji Yu have the window seat, then slumped into his own, panting, with two big bags of groceries in hand.
The ride was far from smooth. Ji Yu leaned her head against the window, staring out at the golden world outside. The gentle sway of the bus made her shoulder-length hair tremble slightly; Tang Li could see the pale curve of her neck and her small, delicate ear.
Maybe it was because she was facing the sunset—her whole body was bathed in the afterglow, looking delicate, almost melancholy.
In front of them sat a couple. The girl seemed afraid of silence and kept talking: gossip about a roommate who'd broken up with a few boyfriends, how she'd lost weight, and tips on cheap makeup. The boy just laughed and gave vague responses.
Too tired.
Once they got home, they headed upstairs quickly. Even though she was mooching dinner, their division of labor was clear: Tang Li handled washing the rice and vegetables, Ji Yu took care of cutting and cooking.
The mood… was terrible.
Tang Li had no idea what he'd said wrong this time, but since he didn't know how to comfort her, he threw himself into the chores she'd given him.
After peeling off his sweat-soaked clothes, the heavy smell of summer quickly filled the room. He had no choice but to open both balcony windows to air it out.
"You should shower first. You stink from playing ball all afternoon."
Those were the words Tang Li had been waiting for, practically ready to kneel in gratitude. He rushed into the bathroom, cranked his playlist to a dance track loud enough to hear over the shower, and began a ten-minute deep clean.
Ji Yu, now wearing an apron, rinsed the rice and washed the vegetables and meat, leaving them on the cutting board for Tang Li to deal with later.
Through the wall, the sound of running water slowed. Ji Yu set down her work and went to the bedroom to grab two of her sister's outfits, waiting at the bathroom door.
Creak—
"Pfft, you're not shy at all—coming out without clothes on."
With nothing clean to change into, he wasn't about to put his sweaty stuff back on, so he stepped out in a bathrobe.
Ji Yu's eyes swept over his well-built body from top to bottom. Six-pack abs on a healthy frame—not overdone, not too soft.
Rounded shoulders that gave a sense of safety without seeming brutish, and below that, a sharp V-line leading down to mystery.
"Not bad at all. Guess you're tougher than you look."
She smirked like a shameless flirt, and Tang Li, flustered, said, "I didn't bring clothes. Can I borrow some of your old stuff?"
"…Wait here."
She tossed him a woman's shirt, then slowly—very slowly—went back to find more, dragging it out just to amuse herself with the image of a shirtless musclehead shivering in place.
Finally, she handed him a few worn shirts. "No peeking. And go cut the meat and veggies."
Obediently, he returned to the kitchen and began chopping away, maybe a bit louder than necessary so she'd hear him working. But even after he'd neatly finished the meat, the sound of water from the other side of the wall kept going…
He glanced at the clock—it had been eighteen minutes since she'd gone in.
Something was wrong. Even a girl taking her time shouldn't still be in the middle of her shower. And there was none of the heavier splash that came when water hit the floor.
The bathroom light wasn't casting any shadow on the frosted glass panel in the door. Heart tightening, he pressed his ear to it…
Beneath the sound of running water, there was something else—something very faint.
Bang!
He kicked the door open.
There she was—sitting on the floor, letting the shower pour over her, hair plastered dark and heavy against the tile, strands clumping together under the spray.
Her pale skin was flushed from the heat; her lips were bitten red, and water streamed down the bridge of her nose, dripping from the tip. She looked utterly lost.
"Ji Yu! Ji Yu!"
Not even bothering to turn off the water, Tang Li grabbed her fragile shoulders, trying to bring her back to herself.
The steam curled around them. Up close, he finally understood what that faint sound had been.
Sobs.
Her head lifted slightly under his hands. Her pretty face was streaked with water—but it wasn't just water.
It was tears—salty, bitter.
Tang Li froze. The girl before him wept silently under the spray, pale blue eyes shimmering, her low, muffled sobs her last scrap of pride.
Everything happened there, in that warm, mist-filled bathroom.
Maybe the water was just too hot…
He didn't ask. He didn't shake her again, didn't take the chance to sneak a look at her body. He just shut off the water, quietly dried her off, and carried her to the bed.
No "bath beauty" here—only a mess.
Why? Tang Li thought he already knew.
He pulled out his phone and tapped play on the most famous version of "Variations on the Canon by Pachelbel."
Sitting beside her, he took her right hand in his own, even though his own clothes were soaked through.
When you're not sad, you can listen to Canon. When you are sad, you should listen to Canon even more. Its gentle, gradually brightening notes had a way of easing the sting in your heart.
Comfort often fails, even makes things worse. Sometimes, what the wounded need most is quiet.
Yes—this whole thing was unbelievable. And Tang Li's attitude toward Ji Yu had been just as self-assured.
She'd become a girl, so of course he told her it wasn't so bad; she was close to him, so of course his heart stirred; she gave him a bottle of orange juice with Pop Rocks in it and helped win a basketball game, so of course he liked her.
Even the little mental drama of "I love you, but it's none of your business" felt natural to him.
But he had never once truly thought about her side of it. What had she endured today? She'd changed into a girl overnight, and she hadn't voiced a single complaint.
No complaint—did that mean she wasn't suffering?
She wasn't the kind to shout or cry in public. Even her tears had to hide under a shower, disguised as hot water from the nozzle.
For eighteen years, she had lived as a man—thinking and planning for a man's life ahead.
And now, one strange dream had turned him into her. Had it stolen his very reason for living?
Now, lying there, her eyes closed, lips no longer bitten, breathing calm and steady…
On the nightstand sat a photo frame: a shy boy in a chair, flanked by two women—one smiling warmly, the other cold-faced but with joy in her eyes if you looked closely.
He thought about so many things then. And after a long moment, he reached out and smoothed the deep crease in the sleeping girl's brow.