“Call me ‘husband’ and I’ll let you go.”
On the first day after stepping down as the President of the Astronomy Club, I was cornered by my Junior, Xiao Yan, at the observatory.
But that wasn’t the most ridiculous part.
The most ridiculous part was that I was currently a girl.
Xiao Yan braced one hand against the wall, trapping me between her and the iron gate of the observatory.
The observatory dome rotated slowly overhead, and sunlight poured in through the observation window, casting a blinding glow on the floor next to the gate.
The key to the main door swung back and forth in her hand, making a clink, clink sound.
“President,” she leaned in.
Her eyes behind her signature white frames were terrifyingly bright, and the corners of her mouth curled up slightly, like a cat that had spotted its prey.
“You don’t think I’ve forgotten everything, do you?”
She licked her upper lip.
Her slender shadow, carrying the scent of orange soda, pressed down on me.
—
I woke up with a start under my duvet and snapped my eyes open.
The horizon was already turning the color of a fish’s belly.
The scent of oranges seemed to drift from my dream to the bedside.
I instinctively moved my shoulder, and an itchy sensation brushed against my collarbone.
It wasn’t the roughness of cotton pajamas; it was soft and silky.
‘Wait, hair??’
Strands of hair hung from my temples, draped over the pillow, and swept across my collarbone.
Some were scattered on the pillowcase, while others clung to my cheek.
I froze.
As a high school student in North City, the requirements for hairstyles weren’t strictly enforced, but I certainly wouldn’t have hair long enough to reach my collarbone.
But now, as my fingertips brushed past my temple, satin-like long hair pressed against my cheek.
It was ridiculously soft.
I bolted upright and reached for the switch of the bedside lamp.
My movements felt strange.
The distance to the switch seemed longer than usual, and it took a few fumbles before I managed to hit it, filling the room with a warm yellow light.
I looked down at my hands.
These unfamiliar fingers were slender and fair.
They opened and closed according to my will, and the nails were neatly trimmed, but they were a whole size smaller than my hands from yesterday.
I used to keep my nails trimmed short because it made tightening equipment screws easier.
But these hands clearly weren’t mine.
The warm yellow light spread across the mirror’s surface.
I raised my hand to steady the silver, half-rimmed glasses I had just put on, which were clearly too large for me.
The girl in the mirror was about 165 centimeters tall with sleepy eyes.
A ring of black, curly hair hung around the hollow of her collarbone.
The ends had the fluffy inward curl of someone who had just woken up, and a few stray strands clung to her temples, gently rubbing against her collarbone as she breathed.
The collar of the T-shirt had slipped down half an inch, revealing shoulders that were white, slender, and incredibly soft in their silhouette.
I poked my cheek with a fingertip.
The soft flesh sank in slightly, and the person in the mirror frowned along with me, her long and thick eyelashes trembling slightly.
The lines at the corners of the eyes were no longer sharp; they curved upward along the sockets, revealing a hint of craftiness.
‘My God!’
My heart throbbed as I looked at the person in the mirror.
‘She’s so cute!’
The girl in the mirror instantly turned red, her eyes darting away.
She quickly covered her burning cheeks with her hands, but she left gaps between her fingers to peek back at her reflection.
My nose felt a sharp sting, as if a nosebleed was about to start!
‘It must be because the winter in North City is too dry!’
I pinched my cheek hard.
It hurt.
It wasn’t a dream.
The family cat jumped onto the bed and sat at my feet, looking up at me.
I looked down and made eye contact.
“Mimi.”
My voice had changed.
The pitch was higher.
It had that cool yet slightly sleepy, unfamiliar tone—exactly like the me in my dream.
The sound of that voice left me stunned.
I slumped back onto the edge of the bed, my fingers unconsciously clutching the corner of the down duvet.
‘Am I really…’
‘I’ve turned into a girl!’
I sat there, trying to analyze the situation calmly, but I couldn’t keep my composure.
I picked up my phone, wanting to search for what was happening, but my delicate fingers hovered over the screen.
What would I even search for?
‘Boy turns into girl’? ‘High school boy transformation’?
I imagined the search results.
There wouldn’t be any real answers.
I might even end up finding one of those transformation novels from a certain peach-themed app.
I let out a sigh, locked the screen, and placed the phone on my knees.
After hesitating for a while, the familiar alarm went off.
It was time for school.
My heart tightened.
Was I really supposed to go to school with this long hair and use this sweet voice to talk to my classmates?
How would they look at me?
Wait! Would they even recognize me? What identity should I use to interact with the people I used to know?
Seeing the time draw closer, I didn’t have time to overthink.
I opened the wardrobe.
My school uniform was hanging on the very edge—the blue, white, and red tracksuit jacket and pants were hanging neatly.
Next to them hung my gray hooded windbreaker.
I hesitated for a moment before grabbing the uniform and the windbreaker.
Today was Wednesday, so I had to wear the uniform.
The windbreaker was oversized, and the sleeves would be quite long, which would help cover more of my body’s details and avoid drawing attention.
I changed into the clothes.
The waistband of the tracksuit pants was far too loose.
I pulled the drawstring tight by two notches and tied it in a bow.
The jacket, which used to fit perfectly, now had sleeves that were too long.
I pushed the cuffs up, trying to keep them at my wrists.
I worked hard to gather my hair into a bunch, tucking it all behind my ears and combing through it with my fingers.
After a lot of effort, the person in the mirror finally looked like a somewhat ordinary high school girl.
I was a bit thin, wore glasses, and had put on the hood of the windbreaker, which hid most of my fluffy, messy hair.
Looking at the face in the mirror, I still felt a sense of estrangement. I tried to smile.
The girl in the mirror lowered her voice and said, “Good morning.”
It was still that cool, slightly dazed voice.
I sighed and accepted my fate.
No matter what happened, I had to play the part of this girl and go to school as usual.
Before I figured out what was going on, I couldn’t let anyone notice anything strange.
At the very least, I couldn’t do anything that would arouse suspicion.
—
I opened the door and stepped out into the November morning of North City.
In November, the air in North City smelled of burning leaves, and the sound of morning rush-hour traffic drifted from the distance.
Golden ginkgo leaves blanketed the ground, crunching under my feet.
I walked down the path I had taken for two years, every step cautious.
At the breakfast shop I passed every day, the owner’s wife was steaming buns.
The steam rose from the baskets, blurring her face.
“Little girl, do you want the usual order of xiaolongbao? And one packet of vinegar?”
The lady lifted the lid of the steamer and used tongs to pack the buns into a plastic bag.
“You’re looking more and more delicate, little girl.”
I gripped the plastic bag, forgot to even say thank you, and turned to leave.
I took a bite of a bun.
The rich soup flowed over my tongue; it felt much hotter than ever before.
This body’s tongue was incredibly sensitive.
I hissed and exhaled a puff of white air.
On the way, I encountered a few students wearing the Quanhe Middle School uniform.
Someone glanced at me, but it was the same look they would give any passing classmate.
A boy rode his bike past me, rang his bell, and said, “Excuse me, classmate,” before cycling on.
It seemed no one thought anything was wrong.
And today, I was entering as a “girl.”
I walked onto the school campus.
My heart was racing, but my face remained expressionless.
No matter how much my mind was in turmoil, my face always maintained that calm look.
In the past, many other students had called me “aloof” or even a “poser.”
The members of the Astronomy Club also knew their President was cool and silent.
Only I knew that I was just born this way; my thoughts and my expressions seemed to be two independent systems with a broken connection.
Today, it finally came in handy!
Students walked through the hallways in groups of twos and threes.
Someone greeted me naturally.
“Good morning, Senior!”
I deliberately lowered my voice and replied, “Morning.”
It was still a cool, feminine voice, but the sleepiness had vanished.
I was so embarrassed I wanted to find a hole to crawl into.
I picked up my pace, taking the stairs two at a time.
By the time I reached the third floor, I started to pant.
This body was much weaker than I had imagined.
I slowed down and finished the last flight of stairs.
—
Liberal Arts Class 1 was at the far east end of the sixth floor, right next to the door of the Astronomy Club’s activity room.
I pushed the door open and walked in.
The student cleaning the blackboard by the door saw me.
“Oh, Hanhan, you’re here early!”
It was completely normal.
The tone, expression, and gaze were all normal.
It was the same as yesterday, the same as the day before, and the same as every day for the past two years.
My desk mate was rummaging through her bag.
“Why are you here so early today?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Insomnia?”
My desk mate turned her bag upside down and finally found her homework notebook in a side pocket.
She let out a satisfied “Ah.”
“Yeah.”
“What were you thinking about?”
After handing in her homework, my desk mate leaned on the desk and looked at me sideways, using a gossiping tone.
“Who were you thinking about?”
I ignored her, though the tips of my ears turned slightly red.
I certainly couldn’t tell her that I was thinking about the series of events from this morning.
My desk mate tilted her head and watched me for a long time.
“Hanhan.”
“Hmm?”
“You look a bit different today.”