Chapter 26: A Girl’s Request

10:17 AM.

A noisy phone ringtone came from the bedside table, startling Ling Ling from her sleep.

With her eyes still closed, she reached out to grope for it, fumbling several times before grabbing the phone.

On the screen, the caller ID displayed a name: “Miss Troublesome.”

It was Ye Fengxue.

Ling Ling stared at the screen for a few seconds, her brain not yet fully booted up.

Then she pressed the answer button and brought the phone to her ear.

“…Hello?”

“Lin Lingling.” Ye Fengxue’s voice came through, carrying the usual aristocratic haughtiness, but today there seemed to be something extra—like she had cleared her throat before speaking, building up some mental preparation that Ling Ling couldn’t see.

“Why did you take so long to answer? Still asleep? What time is it?”

“It’s a day off.”

Ling Ling’s voice was low and rough from just waking up, each word hovering on the edge of sleepwalking.

“You—You’re sleeping in again on Saturday! Forget it, I have something to ask you today.”

“…What is it?”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Ling Ling waited with her eyes closed and almost fell asleep again.

“I want to go shopping at the commercial street today. You’re coming with me.”

“Why do you need me to go shopping with you?”

“You… You have so many questions!” Ye Fengxue’s voice suddenly rose half a notch. “I’m inviting you because I’m doing you a favor, you know! And I just happen to have something to discuss with you along the way—it’s nothing important, just along the way! By the way!”

Ling Ling opened her eyes and looked at the plain, unremarkable ceiling of her bedroom.

In Ling Ling’s translation, Ye Fengxue’s “by the way” and “along the way” had always meant “on purpose,” but she didn’t call her out.

Moreover, Ye Fengxue had mentioned “discussing something”—for Lady Ye to call in such a roundabout way to make plans, there must really be something she wanted to talk about.

“…What time?”

“11 AM, at the fountain at the west gate of the Seventh District Central Commercial Street. Remember, don’t be late.”

“Mm.”

“…Also.”

“What?”

“You—At least wear something decent when you go out! Don’t just come out in a hoodie and athletic shorts again. At least when you’re going out with a girl, try a little…” Ye Fengxue’s voice grew quieter and quieter, the last few words almost inaudible. “…dress up a bit.”

Ling Ling blinked.

“What did you just say?”

“I didn’t say anything!” Ye Fengxue hung up at the speed of light.

Ling Ling stared at the words “Call Ended” on the phone screen for a few seconds, then buried her face in the pillow.

‘A date, huh…’ Those two words floated in her mind for a few seconds, then she pushed them down.

It seemed that in her previous life she had been single for over twenty years, and even in this life, this was the first time a girl had invited her on a date.

But it was probably just to buy things and discuss something along the way. She shouldn’t overthink it.

She lay there for a minute, then threw off the covers and sat up.

Then she stood in front of the wardrobe.

Ling Ling’s wardrobe wasn’t large—it was a double-door wooden cabinet standard in old apartments. Its contents were divided into two distinct areas: on the left were the academy’s uniform and a few pieces of women’s clothing that Lin Jiu had bought for her; on the right were hoodies, T-shirts, and casual shorts she had ordered online herself.

She reached for her usual outfit: a loose white hoodie, dark gray athletic shorts, and a pair of crew socks.

This had been her standard gear for twenty years in her previous life—comfortable and free.

Ye Fengxue had said “dress decently,” but in Ling Ling’s aesthetic, this was already decent enough.

But after thinking about it, she put it back.

She then opened the left compartment and looked at the dress inside. This one was bought by Lin Jiu—a simple white long dress, not too fancy, with only a thin black belt at the waist.

She had only worn it once since buying it. The look in her younger sister’s eyes when she saw her in the dress was like that of a devout worshipper praying before a statue—full of fervor.

Ling Ling stared blankly at the dress for five seconds.

The word “date” surfaced from the depths of her mind.

But this time she didn’t push it down; instead, she let it roll around in her mind.

Ye Fengxue had said it was just to discuss something along the way—she used the words “along the way”—but she specifically mentioned “dress up a bit,” even though she immediately backtracked and said she didn’t say anything.

And before hanging up, her voice had gotten quieter, and when it got quieter, her tone was softer than usual.

“…Troublesome.” Ling Ling said to herself expressionlessly.

Then she took down the dress.

Changing clothes was faster than she expected. The dress was well-tailored and fit perfectly, with little need for adjustment.

She stood before the full-length mirror and looked at the person in it—white hair falling behind her shoulders, the ends slightly curled from just waking up. The white dress outlined her slender waist, the hem reaching her knees, revealing a section of white thigh-high stockings that wrapped around her calves—delicate but with perfect proportions.

She turned in front of the mirror, and the hem of her dress lifted slightly, arcing gracefully.

Her face was still the same—excessively delicate, but still expressionless.

Her scarlet eyes calmly examined herself in the mirror, as if inspecting a perfect work of art, but her toes curled uncomfortably inside her slippers.

Her lower half felt chilly.

This was her biggest feeling when wearing a skirt.

It wasn’t even winter, and she was wearing tights, but the feeling of “air flowing down there” just made her uneasy.

In her previous life, she had worn pants for twenty years. In this life, having swapped to a female body, what she found hardest to adjust to wasn’t the shrinkage in height or anything, but the very design of skirts.

Why did this design exist? She had seriously thought about this question.

Convenient for movement? Didn’t seem better than pants…

Maybe the only advantage was that girls looked cuter in skirts.

Whatever, it’s just one afternoon.

She tugged at the hem, confirming the length was appropriate, then took out a white lace shawl from the wardrobe and draped it over herself.

The hem of the shawl reached just below her chest, creating a nice layered look with the dress—not too formal, not too casual.

She looked at herself in the mirror again and patted her cheeks.

She looked at her current cute self.

“Alright.”

She pushed open the door and walked slowly toward the commercial street.

A breeze slipped under the hem of her skirt, the coolness climbing up her calves along the white thigh-highs, making her unconsciously take smaller steps than usual.

The breeze stirred by the swaying skirt made her look down several times to check—no exposure, the length was safe, but the feeling of “lacking some protection” just wouldn’t go away.

“…Better wear pants next time.” she muttered quietly.