Zheng Yang was choked awake by a mixture of cheap perfume and cigarette smoke.
Although there was a smoky scent, his seasoned experience told him that this specific odor only existed in a woman’s room — and a low-class woman’s at that.
He felt a subconscious wave of disdain.
Zheng Yang did not know which event he had been sent to this time, but he decided it did not matter.
‘Whatever, let me sleep a bit more before dealing with it.’
He frowned and tried to roll over, but a sharp headache struck him, drilling into his temples like an electric tool.
This pain was familiar; his head always felt this way after a night of heavy drinking.
However, as he shifted his weight, his body felt different than usual.
His chest, in particular, felt heavy.
Thinking something was pressing down on him, he instinctively reached out to grab it.
Instead, his hands caught two incredibly soft masses.
Zheng Yang snapped his eyes open.
In his field of vision was a white ceiling with half its paint peeling off.
A low-quality poster was plastered on the wall beside him — a photo of a Korean girl group striking provocative poses.
He could not name them.
On the nightstand sat an old-model phone currently charging, its pink case marred by a jagged crack.
Next to it was a crumpled pack of cigarettes — Hongshuangxi, the kind that cost seven yuan a pack.
The environment was completely foreign and utterly mismatched with his status, making him momentarily forget the strangeness in his chest.
He just wanted to ask where on earth he was.
He turned his head, but there were no familiar faces around him.
No colleagues, no superiors, and none of his “temporary brothers.”
There was only a vanity table nearby where a girl with tattoos was applying makeup.
Zheng Yang sat up abruptly in a panic.
Before he could speak, the stabbing pain in his head flared up again, forcing him to close his eyes and clutch his head with both hands.
Hearing the commotion, the tattooed girl turned to look at Zheng Yang.
“My Lady Yangyang, you’re finally awake. How much did you drink yesterday? You slept straight through until the afternoon of the next day!”
Zheng Yang kept his head lowered and his eyes shut.
Through the throbbing pain, he figured the girl must be talking to someone else.
Yet, it did not sound like she was on the phone.
Aside from the two of them, the room was empty.
Still, there was no way that “Lady Yangyang” was directed at him.
Once the pain subsided slightly, he finally opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was a tattoo design on his right forearm.
Zheng Yang had seen enough of the world to know at a glance that this was just a temporary tattoo sticker.
He could not help but curse, “Shit, who put this trashy thing on me!”
In the next second, he covered his mouth in terror.
The voice that had just come from his throat was a woman’s — a voice that remained melodious and sweet even when swearing.
He finally remembered the odd sensation in his chest and hurriedly looked down to inspect his lower body.
In truth, he barely needed to look.
Between the chest, the thin camisole, and the miniskirt, he was clearly a slender and curvaceous girl.
The final confirmation came from his crotch.
Zheng Yang’s pupils trembled.
He felt around again and again in disbelief, as if he were frantically searching for a man’s most vital parts.
His frantic movements made the tattooed girl laugh.
“What is it? Did you wake up thirsty? Craving a man? Look at you, rubbing yourself like that…”
Zheng Yang did not care about the girl’s teasing.
He simply stared with wide eyes and asked, “Who… am I?”
The tattooed girl tossed her head with a hint of impatience.
“What kind of act are you putting on now?”
“Just answer me.”
Zheng Yang’s tone carried the contempt and authority of a 38-year-old man dealing with a delinquent girl who had strayed from the right path.
The tattooed girl let out a snort.
“Fine, fine, my Lady… You are Zheng Yangyang, and you’re my ancestor. Is that enough?”
“Zheng Yang… yang? Then who are you? Where is this?”
The girl clicked her tongue.
“Zheng Yangyang, I’ll play along for one last round, so listen up: You are Zheng Yangyang, I am A-Zi, and this is the rental unit provided by Golden Era for us to stay in while we work.”
“Golden Era? Work?”
Zheng Yang felt his head not only throb but begin to buzz.
“Oh, right. Don’t forget that you’re a Black Household. Someone without even a residence registration shouldn’t put on airs.”
A-Zi grabbed her phone to check the time.
“I reckon Manager Wang will be here cursing in less than 5 minutes. I’m done with my makeup, so I’m heading out. I’m not waiting for you!”
Zheng Yang reached out his hand as if reaching for a lifeline.
“Wait, hold on a second!”
A-Zi ignored her, muttering as she left, “Who wants to work this crappy job anyway? If you don’t want to go, at least find a better excuse…”
Zheng Yang felt a sense of despair.
It was not that he had never heard of stories involving body-swapping or similar tropes, but now that it was happening to him, why wouldn’t the world give him a moment to figure out the situation?
Still, it was for the best that she left.
He needed to calm down and sort through his current reality.
He pulled back the curtains and realized the buildings outside were not unfamiliar.
In fact, the four large characters for “Golden Era” on a nearby building were very familiar.
‘So, according to A-Zi, I’ve turned into a hostess at Golden Era? And this is the employee dormitory?’
He found it ridiculous.
He picked up the cracked pink phone, unlocked it with a fingerprint, and scrolled through the contacts.
There was not a single familiar name.
‘Is it Soul Transmigration? A parallel world? Or a soul swap?’
Zheng Yang let out a dry chuckle.
‘This dream is actually a bit interesting.’
He lay back down on the wooden bed frame and took several deep breaths.
Just as he was about to try calling his own phone number for confirmation, he heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Zheng Yang was about to ask why she had come back, but to his surprise, a man in a casual suit walked in.
The man was not fat, but the potbelly bulging beneath his suit was prominent — a clear sign of excessive drinking.
Zheng Yang asked in shock, “Who are you? You’re breaking and entering! How do you have the key to my room?”
A cold sneer appeared on the man’s already displeased face.
“What, playing the amnesia card with me? I just ran into A-Zi, and she was making excuses for you, saying you were almost done with your makeup. And here you are, just lying around?”
Zheng Yang looked utterly speechless.
“I really don’t know you!”
The man suppressed his rage.
“I don’t have time to play house with you. The big boss has already arrived, and he asked for you by name. I’m having another girl fill in for now, so move your ass!”
As he turned to leave, a shout rang out from behind him.
“I’m not going!”
This completely enraged the man.
He spun around and reached Zheng Yang in three quick strides.
He shoved him — no, he shoved her — down onto the bed with a heavy thud.
The man gritted his teeth.
“You really don’t know what’s good for you! I suppose the woodcutter doesn’t lose time by sharpening his axe. It looks like I need to teach you a lesson first.”
As he spoke, he began to take off his suit jacket and unbuckle his belt.
Zheng Yang sat up abruptly and screamed, “What are you doing!”
Before he could finish, a harsh slap sent her tumbling back onto the bed.
The slap left Zheng Yang’s face burning with stinging pain, shattering his final hope that ‘maybe this is just a dream.’
In that instant, she understood that this was the reality she faced.
She had truly become a hostess, a fallen girl of the sort she had once despised with all her heart.
The immense sense of absurdity, the complete reversal of roles and social status, the disgusting scene she was about to face, and the fear of whether she could ever change back — all of it merged into a terrifying wave of vertigo.
Zheng Yang’s stomach churned.
She doubled over and retched, vomiting onto the floor as if trying to purge every drop of last night’s alcohol.
The man dodged quickly, avoiding the spray.
He sneered, “Our company hasn’t even started offering that kind of service yet. How are you pregnant already?”
Zheng Yang ignored him, staggering as she looked for a bathroom to rinse her mouth.
However, the man grabbed both her wrists with one hand and pinned her against the wall.
Zheng Yang realized the disparity in strength.
Combined with the misery of vomiting, she lost the will to resist.
More importantly, she needed to maintain her reason and energy to find the truth behind this transformation.
As a 38-year-old man, she still possessed that much composure.
She hurriedly explained, “Wait, Brother, listen to me. I’m really not the girl you know. I’m a man. I had a few drinks, went to sleep, and woke up like this. I know it sounds insane, but it’s the truth!”
The man laughed.
“Upgraded from amnesia to Soul Transmigration? Fine, fine. Then let me tell you: even if you’re the Jade Emperor himself come down to earth, you’re still going to go entertain that guest for me!”
Seeing the man make a move to reach for the contents of his trousers with no intention of stopping, Zheng Yang felt an instinctive surge of disgust and fear.
The ingrained survival instincts of a corporate drone finally forced her to surrender completely.
“Sir! Sir! I was wrong. I’ll go, okay?”
Her intention was to trick the man into leaving so she could slip away to somewhere private or call a taxi to check on her real home.
However, though the man straightened his clothes, he showed no intention of departing.
It seemed he intended to watch Zheng Yang change and put on her makeup.
Zheng Yang had no choice.
She told herself to deal with the immediate situation first and wait for an opportunity.
However, she knew nothing about women’s clothes or makeup.
She did not even know which clothes in the room belonged to her and which belonged to A-Zi.
The man watched her pick through the items.
Her face didn’t look like someone deciding what to wear, but rather someone who was confused.
Although he did not know why she was confused, he mocked her anyway.
“What, is it really Soul Transmigration? Then, Brother Yang, let your little brother pick out an outfit for you.”
He rummaged through the pile and pulled out a midriff-baring tank top that covered barely more than a bra, a miniskirt, and a pair of high heels.
He threw them in front of Zheng Yang.
“Change!”
Zheng Yang frowned.
In her eyes, these things could hardly be called “clothes.”
But there was no way out now; based on the two hits she had just taken, she had to compromise.
However, she possessed no female sense of modesty.
She struggled out of her camisole and sat there topless, staring at the small tank top in frustration.
“How do you even put this on…?”
Seeing her exposed, the man turned his back and snorted, “You’re not wearing a bra? Whatever, don’t wear one then. It saves time.”
Zheng Yang looked down and finally realized the issue.
Still, she did not bother to cover up.
The pain on her face from being struck made her snap back mockingly, “What’s the matter, Manager? You were about to pull your own thing out a second ago, but now you’re shy because you see a chest?”
The man’s voice was calm but carried an undeniable weight.
“What I did just now was a tactic to deal with your laziness, not a genuine lack of respect for you. But I am warning you for the last time: do not mistake my respect for something you can trample on.”
Zheng Yang sighed.
“I get it, Brother. But I really don’t know how to put this on. Help me out.”
The man was equally exasperated.
“You’re really going to commit to this Soul Transmigration act until the end? Fine, I’ll help you dress!”
Once she was dressed, the man looked at Zheng Yang in the mirror and asked with a smirk, “So, Brother Yang, how’s the new body? It’s got to be a ninety out of 100, at least.”
Zheng Yang stared at the beautiful girl in the mirror.
In a daze, she subconsciously thought the man had believed her words and replied, “Yeah… if you ask me, it’s a ninety-nine.”
Without warning, the man shoved the back of her head.
“Hurry up and put on your makeup!”
Zheng Yang snapped back to reality and walked to the vanity, looking at the cosmetics with a blank expression.
The man sighed.
“I forgot you’re a man who ‘soul-transmigrated’ and definitely doesn’t know how to do makeup. My bad. But I don’t know how to do it either. Forget it, just put on some lipstick and let’s go. You have such a good natural look that you’ll be fine without it.”
But Zheng Yang did not even recognize which one was the lipstick, let alone how to apply it.
When she finally found it, the man watched her clumsy movements with such impatience that he finally reached out and applied it for her.