I clutched the badge in my pocket and opened the door to the house.
The house was silent, with only the sound of the wind outside brushing against the window frame.
I changed my shoes and tugged at the old school uniform stretched tight across my shoulders.
The fabric clung to my back, and the cuffs were stuck halfway up my forearms, exposing a length of my wrists.
My pants hovered above my ankles, swaying with every step like a child wearing ill-fitting clothes they had stolen.
I ducked into my room, closed the door, and stood before the mirror.
The silhouette of the person in the mirror was both strange and familiar.
A lean face, wearing a pair of metal-rimmed glasses.
My shoulders were half an inch wider than before, and the waistline of my clothes was pulled tight, causing my features to lose some of their softness.
The most striking thing was my height; I was over half a head taller than I had been before the transformation.
I pulled off the tight sweatshirt, changed into my pajamas, and sat on the edge of the bed in a daze.
‘Long time no see.’
‘I should be very happy.’
‘But why? Why?’
The badge in my pocket pressed against my thigh, cold, with only a hint of lingering warmth.
—
The morning birdsong drifted into the house.
A knock sounded at the door.
It wasn’t the usual three slow knocks followed by a pause; it was two soft, hesitant taps.
I pulled the door open.
Xiao Yan stood at the door, holding a paper bag.
She wore a white hoodie and jeans, her ponytail tied high.
She looked me straight in the eye.
“A new jacket,” she said, handing over the paper bag.
“I bought it based on your current size. It should fit.”
“How did you know my size?”
“I just eyeballed it.”
She gave a small smile.
That smile was different from before.
The corners of her mouth curved up, but her eyes didn’t crinkle.
It was like a rehearsed smile — precise, but lacking warmth, hiding many things behind the scenes.
I took the paper bag and stepped aside to let her in.
As she walked in, she subconsciously leaned toward me.
Before, when she entered, she would naturally hook her arm through mine because I was shorter then, and her arm could rest perfectly on my shoulder.
But this time, her hand stopped halfway and froze.
Her hand hung in the air for a fraction of a second before she quickly withdrew it and shoved it into her hoodie pocket.
“Give it a try,” she said, her voice sounding natural as if nothing had happened.
I took out the new outfit.
It was a white jacket and dark trousers, and the size was perfect.
“Go change.”
She turned her back to me, facing the window, and crouched down to play with Mimi on the windowsill.
I changed into the clothes and tugged at the cuffs.
They reached exactly to my wrists, neither loose nor tight.
“I’m done.”
She turned around.
She looked me up and down, then walked over to help me straighten my collar.
Before, she would have had to stand on her tiptoes, but now she didn’t need to; she could reach it just by extending her hand.
When her fingertips touched my neck, we both froze for a moment, as if struck by an electric shock.
Her fingers were cold, pressing against my skin like a leaf falling onto the surface of water.
Then she pulled back.
As if she had been burned, her hand retracted quickly.
“There.”
She lowered her head to organize the paper bag, not looking at me.
“It fits quite well.”
“Yeah.”
“The President looks pretty handsome in this style.”
She looked up and smiled.
It was that same smile again — the corners of her mouth up, but her eyes fixed.
I looked at her, feeling something blocked in my chest.
Before, when she smiled, her eyes would curve into crescents, her eyelashes would flutter slightly, and her whole being would glow.
Now, her smile was like a thin film stuck to her face, hiding things I didn’t know about underneath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
I looked down and unwrapped an Orange Candy, popping it into my mouth.
It was sweet, but not the same as before.
Before, when she gave them to me, the sweetness would spread from the tip of my tongue all the way to my heart.
Now that I unwrapped it myself, there was only sweetness and nothing else.
The badge in my pocket suddenly vibrated.
I pulled it out to look.
The words [Bond Resonance] on the engravings were a bit fainter than last night.
The vibration continued, the frequency steady and light, but rhythmic.
Like a heartbeat.
I looked up at Xiao Yan.
She was crouching on the floor playing with Mimi, her fingers scratching Mimi’s chin, her profile looking soft under the light.
The vibration frequency of the badge seemed to overlap with the rhythm of her heartbeat.
I clenched the badge and stuffed it back into my pocket.
“President,” she said, standing up, “Lin Yu said she’s coming over this afternoon with the Star Track Map and the magnetic field data.”
“Okay.”
She walked to the door, stopped, and looked back at me.
“Are you…” She paused.
“Are you used to it now?”
“To what?”
“Being back to this.”
Her voice was very quiet.
“Are you used to it?”
I looked into her eyes.
There was something very, very small in her gaze, like anticipation mixed with fear, tangled together so I couldn’t tell them apart.
My fingertips unconsciously picked at the hem of my school jacket, pinching a crease into the fabric.
“It’s alright,” I said.
“That’s good.”
She gave a forced laugh and pushed the door open.
“See you this afternoon.”
The moment the door closed, the badge in my pocket vibrated once, like a sigh.
I stood in the room, still clutching the unfinished Orange Candy.
The sweetness had already faded, leaving only a faint hint of sourness.
The badge in my pocket was still vibrating.
Thump, thump — like someone’s heartbeat.
—
In the afternoon, when the doorbell rang, I was in the kitchen cutting fruit.
I opened the door, and Lin Yu was standing in the entryway, holding that silver-gray Weather Observation Instrument, blue data flickering on the screen.
She gave me a careful look.
“You’ve grown taller,” she said, her tone as flat as ever.
“…Yeah.”
She didn’t say anything else, walking straight into my room and placing the instrument on the desk to start adjusting the data.
Xiao Yan followed her in, carrying a bag of Orange Candy, which she shook at me.
“Replenishing your ammo.”
She gave a small smile.
It was still that smile — corners up, eyes cold.
The three of us gathered around the desk.
Lin Yu spread out the Star Track Map; it was large, covering half the table.
Her finger traced along the lines of the stellar orbits, stopping at the very end.
“The stellar orbits on the observatory wall match the badge engravings perfectly.”
She looked up at me.
“But there’s a gap at the end.”
She pointed to a blank space on the map.
A question mark was drawn there, with a small note next to it: [Missing Anchor Point].
“What is an Anchor Point?”
Xiao Yan asked.
Lin Yu pulled up the magnetic field data on the observation instrument.
The curves on the screen fluctuated wildly, with several peaks almost shooting off the display.
“Bond Resonance only temporarily reverses the Transformation Factor.”
Her voice remained flat.
“The Transformation Factor in your body hasn’t disappeared; it’s just been suppressed.”
I looked at the curve, and my fingertips began to feel cold.
“Within the next week, the Orion Magnetic Field will reach a new peak.”
Lin Yu flipped to a chart cluttered with times, frequencies, and energy values.
“Once triggered, you might transform again.”
She paused.
“Or, you might lose the ability to transform entirely.”
The room fell silent for two seconds.
The Orange Candy wrapper in Xiao Yan’s hand made a sharp crinkle, and a candy rolled onto the table.
The badge in my pocket vibrated in perfect sync with that sound.
“Then if we find the Anchor Point, we can stabilize your form?”
Xiao Yan asked.
Her voice was fast, as if she were trying to speak before anyone else could.
As she bent over to pick up the candy, the tips of her ears were bright red.
Lin Yu nodded.
“In theory, yes.”
I looked at Xiao Yan’s profile.
Her expression was calm, and there was even a hint of a smile on her lips.
But her fingers were clenching the candy wrapper, her nails digging into the plastic, making a faint *click-click* sound.
She was nervous.
No, not nervous.
It was something else.
“Then let’s just find it.”
She let go, unwrapped the candy, and popped it into her mouth.
“President, I’m sure we can find it.”
She smiled at me.
This time, her eyes curved a little.
But I felt she wasn’t smiling for me.
She was smiling for herself.
I looked down and picked at the edge of the Star Track Map, my fingernail rubbing the indentation of a light-colored triangular mark until it turned white.
I had originally wanted to remain a boy completely.
I didn’t want to go through another transformation, didn’t want to wake up every morning and feel my hair, my chest, and check the mirror to see who I was.
But if I changed back, would there always be these 15 centimeters between her and me?
Would we never be able to go back to how we were before?
A sudden flicker of hesitation rose within me.
“President?”
She touched my arm.
“You’re spacing out.”
“I’m not.”
I lowered my head, staring at the question mark on the map.
During a break in our discussion, as Xiao Yan pulled an Orange Candy from her pocket, one rolled out and landed at my feet.
I bent down to pick it up.
Orange Candy.
In the days after my transformation, she had brought me this candy every day.
Sometimes she would shove it into my hand, sometimes she would unwrap it and hold it to my lips, and sometimes she would suddenly pop it into my mouth while I was talking, laughing her head off at the way I choked.
Back then, I was much shorter than her.
When we walked down the street, our shoulders would brush against our arms, and the backs of our hands would rub together.
She would suddenly grab my hand, fingers interlaced, swinging our arms back and forth.
She would lean her head on my shoulder and say, “President, you’re so soft.”
She would stand on her tiptoes to put an Orange Candy in my mouth, then run away laughing.
Now, she didn’t have to stand on her tiptoes.
Because I was over half a head taller than her.
But I never received another Orange Candy from her hands again.
“Can we still eat this one?”
She leaned in to look, her hair brushing against my arm.
I didn’t move away.
Neither did she.
But her shoulder tensed up.
Just a slight flinch.
“Yeah.”
I picked up the candy.
“It’s not dirty.”
I looked down, unwrapped it, and put it in my mouth.
Then I looked up at her, and she smiled.
This time, her eyes curved.
But I felt she was smiling at the candy.
Not at me.
Lin Yu flipped through the map and suddenly let out an “Hmm.”
“What is it?”
Xiao Yan leaned in.
Lin Yu pointed at the gap on the map.
Besides the question mark and the note about the missing Anchor Point, there was also a tiny symbol.
A light-colored triangular mark.
It wasn’t drawn.
It looked like it had been engraved; the paper had an indentation.
“This mark.”
Lin Yu frowned.
“I didn’t draw this.”
“Is it related to the transformation?”
Xiao Yan’s voice tightened.
Lin Yu didn’t answer but tapped a few times on the observation instrument.
The data curves on the screen jumped, and then a line of text popped up: [Unrecognized pattern, field survey recommended.]
“We need to go to the Old Teaching Building,” Lin Yu said.
“The coordinates for the gap on the Star Track Map are marked there.”
Xiao Yan gripped the hem of her shirt.
“When are we going?”
I asked.
Lin Yu checked the time.
“The magnetic field peak is in three days. Before then, we need to clear up the clues.”
She stood up and folded the map.
“I’ll be responsible for monitoring the magnetic field. You two investigate the clues related to the pattern.”
She walked to the door and stopped without turning back.
“Don’t act alone. The magnetic field in the Old Teaching Building is unstable; it’s easy for things to go wrong if you go by yourself.”
The door closed.
Only Xiao Yan and I were left in the room.
She sat in the chair, head down, unwrapping an Orange Candy.
The wrapper made a rustling sound that seemed very loud in the quiet room.
“Xiao Yan,” I called her.
“Hmm?” She didn’t look up.
“Are you…”
I wanted to ask her:
‘Do you hope I change back? Do you like the female version of me more? Are you just pretending to be happy?’
But when the words reached my lips, they became:
“You’re eating too much candy. Watch out for cavities.”
She looked up at me.
She blinked for a second.
Then she laughed.
This time, she really laughed.
The corners of her mouth turned up, her eyes curved into crescents, and her eyelashes fluttered slightly.
“President, you’re such a nag.”
She popped the unwrapped candy into her mouth.
“I know.”
She stood up and brushed off her pants.
“I’ll go back and look up some information first. I’ll organize the clues and send them to you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
She walked to the door and suddenly stopped.
“President.”
“Yeah?”
“No matter what you look like, I…”
The sentence went unfinished as she swallowed her words.
“Never mind.”
She pushed the door open.
“See you tomorrow.”
The door closed.
I stood in the room, still clutching the wrapper of the Orange Candy I had picked up from the floor.
What was that sentence she didn’t finish?
My phone vibrated.
It was Lin Yu.
Same number as the last text.
“The magnetic field in the teaching building is very strange. The field there will cause the Transformation Factor to go completely out of control — either you will never be a boy again, or you will never be a girl again.”
I gripped my phone, staring at that line of text.
Never back to a boy.
Never back to a girl.
A choice between the two.
—
The moonlight was very bright, illuminating the silhouette of the apartment complex below.
Xiao Yan stood frozen under a streetlamp.
Her shadow was cast on the ground, motionless.
She was also looking at that text message.
I looked down at the badge in my hand.
The words [Bond Resonance] on the engravings had faded even more.
I looked at Xiao Yan, feeling as if I could sense her heartbeat.
I clenched the badge and looked out at the window where the light was still on.
She was still looking down at her phone screen.
The blue light of the phone reflected in her eyes, bright like a pool of water, but not a single drop fell.
I couldn’t see her expression clearly; I only saw her hand gripping the phone, her knuckles turning white, and her shoulders trembling slightly.
The badge in my pocket suddenly grew hot, making my fingertips go numb.
That temperature was exactly the same as the warmth of her palm that night at the Observatory.
She wiped her eyes, then put her phone in her pocket and walked out of the complex with small steps.
I watched her, a sudden surge of pain rushing through my heart.
The moonlight was very bright.
Her shadow was very long.
I pushed open the door.