Zheng Yang returned home in a huff.
Because she was angry, her steps were forceful.
Her school uniform skirt swayed more noticeably due to her unconscious hip movements.
Zheng Shiqiang didn’t seem to notice Zheng Yang’s fuming expression.
He just looked at her lower body and chuckled.
“Oh, now you walk like a proper girl, even swinging your hips!”
Zheng Yang instantly turned bright red—swinging hips meant wiggling her butt.
Was I wiggling my butt?
No, right?
… I didn’t realize it.
She used to hate it when girls wiggled their butts while walking.
She thought it was a deliberate attempt to flaunt their curves.
So even now that she’d gotten used to being a girl, she still refused to wear pants that showed off her figure.
She’d rather wear skirts.
“I did not! I would never wiggle my butt like those girls!”
Zheng Yang crossed her arms, then suddenly realized her train of thought had been derailed.
She stomped her foot with an “Ah!” “Dad! You’re changing the subject!”
Zheng Shiqiang blinked innocently.
“But you never gave me a subject.”
True.
Zheng Yang plopped down onto the sofa, looking very troubled.
“Seriously, I’m about to die from anger!”
Zheng Shiqiang walked over with a smile, sat down beside her, and patted her head.
“What’s wrong, really?”
Mm… head pats are still so nice…
No!
“Dad! Why… why did you transfer Siyuan into my class!?”
She had his hand on her head, but she pouted and frowned, looking at him sideways—which only made Zheng Shiqiang want to pat her even more.
Zheng Shiqiang didn’t catch on immediately.
“Siyuan? Who’s that?”
Zheng Yang grabbed his hand and forcefully put it down.
“Zheng Siyuan, my son!”
Zheng Shiqiang suddenly realized.
“Ah—ohhhhh… him. What, is it bad? Didn’t you say…”
“I did say that, but… you didn’t have to make him my deskmate!”
Pfff~
Zheng Shiqiang looked like he was enjoying a good show.
“What’s wrong with a father keeping an eye on his son at school? You can secretly supervise him every day. Isn’t that good?”
“But I’m not his father anymore! I’m your daughter, 15 years old, the same age as him!”
“Then isn’t there even less reason to worry?”
“But my inner self is still… Ugh, Dad! You’re just playing dumb! You just want to watch the drama!”
Zheng Shiqiang pressed his lips together, trying hard not to laugh.
“See, see! Your expression totally admits it!”
Zheng Yang pointed at him, panting with anger, her chest heaving up and down.
Zheng Shiqiang took her little hand and placed it in his palm, stroking it…
So soft.
Ahem, no.
He cleared his throat and put on a serious face.
“So, Yangyang, what exactly are you worried about?”
Zheng Yang’s face turned even redder, but between her and Zheng Shiqiang, there was nothing left to hide.
She patted her skirt.
“Look at this skirt, these legs! And…”
She was about to pat her chest too, but her hand stopped mid-air and fell.
“Don’t you get it yet?”
Zheng Shiqiang tilted his head.
“My daughter is very charming. What’s the problem?”
Zheng Yang rolled her eyes.
This old man, looks like I have to be brutally direct.
Super direct, not a single curve.
“So—how can a little boy like Siyuan resist that? What if he develops feelings for me, what if he falls for me! I’m his… his…”
As she said this, she almost started crying.
“Then guide him.”
Zheng Shiqiang’s tone was so matter-of-fact that it made Zheng Yang feel like she was being unreasonable.
“Easy for you to say!”
“Alright!”
Zheng Shiqiang gently patted Zheng Yang’s little hand and gave her a serious smile.
“You can do it. A little thing like this won’t defeat the daughter of Zheng Shiqiang.”
“I…”
Zheng Yang was suddenly at a loss for words.
“Won’t defeat the daughter of Zheng Shiqiang”?
It felt like some incredible encouragement.
But why did that encouragement feel so weird?
Weird or not, Zheng Yang backed down.
Who could blame her for having zero resistance to that kind of talk?
The next morning, Zheng Shiqiang gently woke Zheng Yang for breakfast.
Looking at the meat buns and fried eggs on the table—all her favorites—her mind echoed again with “won’t defeat the daughter of Zheng Shiqiang.”
Not to mention Old Zheng affectionately patting her head.
“Eat slowly, no rush.”
The little anger from yesterday had long since melted away like spring water.
No, summer water.
How could I ever throw a tantrum at such a wonderful dad?
Trust yourself, I, Zheng Yang…
Zheng Yangyang, can definitely get along great with my son and deskmate, Zheng Siyuan!
Still so weird.
Zheng Yang knew that if she could let go of the burden of being a “father,” it would be way too easy.
But facing Siyuan, she couldn’t let it go.
She suddenly thought of Lili.
Could it be you again?
Every time I get too immersed in this female body, you just have to give me some brutally direct reminder of my manhood…
Forget it, I’ll take it as it comes.
Zheng Siyuan’s influence on Zheng Yang was also brutally direct.
After all, she had been a man and a father to Zheng Siyuan for 15 years.
She wasn’t very good at resisting the inertia of that 15-year history.
She often did very pointless things.
Like rubbing her chin and philtrum, confirming with the smooth sensation that she really had no beard.
Like occasionally looking down at her chest, sometimes even secretly cupping it with both hands to feel the weight.
Like pressing her legs together, even rubbing them a couple times, to get a final confirmation that she was no longer a man.
Sigh, what am I so nervous about…
Finally, lunchtime arrived.
Zheng Yang was still holding hands with Wu Chun as they walked to the cafeteria.
“Hey, Yangyang, why is your palm sweaty? Let me blow on it.”
Wu Chun picked up Zheng Yang’s slightly damp hand and blew on it.
Getting sweaty palms when nervous—that’s still the same as when I was a man.
“Maybe I was nervous because I couldn’t quite follow the lesson…”
Zheng Yang explained, but she felt embarrassed by Wu Chun’s intimate gesture and quickly pulled her hand away, swinging her arm a few times.
“Haha, are you a spin dryer?”
Wu Chun covered her mouth and laughed.
Zheng Yang then realized that this “spin-drying” action was more of a guy thing.
After lunch, they returned to the classroom.
Zheng Siyuan was there too.
Wu Chun’s deskmate was a boarding student and had gone to the dormitory to rest, so Zheng Yang sat down next to Wu Chun—just like how girls used to hang out with their close friends in her past school days.
But today, coincidentally, Wu Chun’s deskmate, that boy, seemed to not have slept well and came back to class early.
Zheng Yang saw him, stuck out her tongue, and quickly returned to her seat.
Facing my son again…
Just as she was tidying up her books and about to pretend to sleep face-down, a note was passed over from the side.
Zheng Yang took it and read:
“Do you hate me that much?”