Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Old Wei! Old Wei! Where the hell are you? Log in, now! All-nighter! We’re fighting till sunrise! The project’s done—your boy is—FI!NAN!CIAL!LY! FREE—!”

I’m Yun Xi, twenty-five, freshly minted member of the financially-free club, bouncing around my newly-paid-off penthouse like a bottle rocket. The adrenaline hasn’t worn off; the only thought in my head is: game—NOW—this second! Me and my ride-or-die bro Old Wei are gonna take back every hour those clients bled out of us, with interest, inside the virtual world!

I snatch the latest-model immersive neural-link helmet, fingers trembling, and practically punch Old Wei’s private comm button.

Beep... beep...

Two rings and it connects. I suck in air, ready to roar my victory speech again.

Instead, a bucket of ice water pours through the earpiece.

“...Who?”

Low, guarded, alien—as if a wolf caught a stranger’s scent.

I blank for half a second, then rage rockets to my skull: “What the hell, Old Wei? It’s me! Yun Xi! The guy who just told you he’s financially free! Are your ears stuffed with donkey hair?”

A silence shorter than a heartbeat yet twice as scary.

“...Stop messing around with voice changers,” Old Wei says, colder. “Put Old Yun on. I want the real guy—now.”

Voice changer? Messing? I swear—

“Mess your grandpa’s voice changer!” I’m two inches from smashing the helmet. “I am Yun Xi in the flesh! Did you drink fake liquor last night and turn your brain into tofu dregs? Move! Quit yapping! Log in! Today I’ll show you what a runaway DPS looks like!”

I scream myself hoarse, but a sliver of wrongness coils around me—like something inside is... loosening?

Just as I’m loading a fresh clip of national curses aimed at Old Wei’s ancestors, a voice rings out.

Not through the comm. Straight inside my skull. Ethereal, soft, a feather under moonlight—yet with world-flipping power.

“Hi, cute ‘me’...”

Brain shorts; blood stops.

“Who?!?!” I roar back mentally. “The hell—show yourself!” I whirl; the smart-lights glow on empty air.

“Nope~” the voice laughs, “not a hallucination, cute ‘me’... or should I say, the former ‘Yun Xi’.”

A grateful pause. “Thank you... for carrying so much, for guarding this ‘existence’ so diligently... like a loyal knight.”

Knight? Guard? I’m a code slave—what did I guard?

“Now you’ve finally finished the mission and reached the shore of ‘freedom’...” Her tone turns bright, “So please accept this belated, true ‘freedom’ as thanks~”

Freedom? Gift? I’m already financially free—!

A warm tide erupts—gentle yet overwhelming—followed by—

Crack... crackle...

Bone-friction from every joint! My eye-level shifts... wait...

Something cold-yet-soft, alien and weighty, settles on my chest.

Heart skips, then jackhammers. Ice shoots from soles to scalp.

No... impossible...

Like a rusted robot I creak my head down.

Past my chin, my gaze lands on my chest.

No more “Code Monkeys Save World” sweat-stained tee.

Instead, a fabric like flowing moonlight... a dress? Delicate lace collars sketching—outlining—definitely NOT belonging to 178-cm, 75-kg former straight male coder—curves that scream teenage girl, round, perfect, glowing under the lights!

“I... I... crap...”

I try to speak; throat stuffed with burning cotton. What comes out—

A voice like mountain spring water striking jade—clear, sweet, enough to drip honey from your bones.

That sound brands my near-melting nerves.

“Hell no! Who asked for this gift—!!?”

A shriek—ultimate collapse, sky-high shame, world-view shattered—erupts from that brand-new sugar-sweet throat, echoing through the penthouse!

Gift? Financial freedom? All-night gaming? Bro duo?

To hell with it all!

“Who could accept this?!” I clutch my head, spinning in the empty living room while cherry-white long hair (wait—hair?!) whips the air. “I just got rich and you tell me I’ve not only lost the money but also lost my—my joystick? Is this right? This is wrong! Yun Xi—Meng Yun Xi—you fight dirty! Cheat! Sneak-attack! Twenty-five-year-old corporate drone—watch your tail, mouse!”

I howl at the air; the sound comes out syrupy, like a spoiled-child whine. I stomp—only to be stabbed by the tiny bow-tied leather shoes that appeared out of nowhere.

“So... I really can’t change back?” Exhausted, I slide down the window, voice tiny, begging the emptiness. “Tell me it’s a dream, please... You’re called Meng Yun Xi, right? Turn me back—now! Right now!”

Only city traffic and the AC hum answer.

“I’ve heard of cosmic luck, I’ve heard of tractor luck...” I bury my face in silky cherry-white hair, muttering, “If you’re gonna transform me, at least give a system alert: ‘Ding! Ultimate gender-swap card activating, please prepare’... What is this—forced blind-box on hell-mode?!”

Craziest part—“I didn’t even transmigrate!” I lift my head at the glass reflection, ready to cry. “This is still my home! My PC! My games! My... my joystick aaaah!” The sweet voice twists the lament into a coquettish squeal.

The reflected girl owns a face heaven clearly biased: cool-white skin glowing, ethereal sapphire eyes brimming with panic, cherry-white silk for hair. Slim, perfect proportions—yet that chest curve shouts GIRL. Moon-white dress, ornate like a magical-girl battle uniform, sprinkled with starlight.

“Newbie gift pack?” I gnash my teeth. “Besides this shame-dress and freak hair-eyes, where’s the pack? Where’s the bag?!”

As if answering, the airy voice, lazy and teasing, echoes again:

“Don’t be unhappy, cute ‘me’~” She’s coaxing a toddler. “Though, well... your ‘joystick’ is gone...” a prank giggle, “but your money’s still there! Bank cards, stocks, condo—yours! I have that much credit!”

Money? I slap my hip—despair: this damned dress has no pockets!

“Plus,” Meng Yun Xi tempts, “being a girl comes with a newbie pack! Guaranteed fresh-as-dawn... um... ‘refreshment’?”

Refreshment? I wanna refresh myself out of existence!

“Newbie pack, item one!” she proclaims. “Body Purification & Optimization! Expels every chronic ailment, purges all accumulated toxins, brings your new vessel to purest, perfect starting state! Ready? Go—!”

The instant “Go” hits I know I’m doomed!

An unspeakable “filth” surges from marrow! Twenty-five years of garbage—overnight fatigue, junk-food sludge, code grudge—dug up, churned, ripped out!

“Hurk—!”

Nausea rockets up my throat; I dry-heave. Arms and calves ooze sticky, gray-black oil that reeks of decade-old sewer mixed with expired yogurt! It drips, pooling on the carpet, filling the penthouse with unholy stench.

“Crap... hurk... bio-weapon... hurk...” Tears gush from the fumes. The moon-white dress is ruined. I feel like a leaking robot, pores vomiting my past—yet inside, an eerie lightness blooms. Visual-olfactory hell, level max!

“Oho~” Meng Yun Xi sounds delighted. “More discharge than expected... you really lived ‘fully’, didn’t you~”

Fully your head! I scrub frantically while mentally howling.

“But results are stellar!” she brags. “Look—your skin’s glowing! Breathe—smell the sweetness! Beats any million-yuan spa!”

Who cares about glowing skin! I wanna die—or at least hit the shower before this stench commits war crimes!

“Okay, okay,” her tone gains urgency, “time’s up~ I gotta hide~ If I stay...”

Voice drops, real danger in the whisper:

“...you’ll be in danger.”

Danger? From stink-death?

“Hey! Don’t leave!!” Panic crushes everything; I scream inside, “Explain! What danger? How do I live? Yun Xi! Meng Yun Xi! Get—back—!!”

Dead silence.

Only my ragged girl-breaths echo in the reeking living room. Ooze still seeps. She’s gone—left me a filthy, gender-flipped mess and a cryptic warning.

Financial freedom? Life summit? Joke of the cosmos! I’m a sewer-smelling, magical-girl-costumed, body-out-of-control... monster!

Ding-dong—ding-ding-ding—!

The doorbell shrieks like a death warrant! Rapid pounding!

“Yun Xi! Yun Xi! Open up! What the hell’s going on? Comm cut out! Your signal’s haywire! Talk! Are you hurt?!”

Wei Wu—he tracked me down?!

Brain whites out.

Current status: cherry-white hair matted with black oil, ornate dress soaked and stinking, skin still leaking—plus I’m a chick! A sweet-voiced, big-breasted chick!

Let him see this? Kill me first!

“Yun Xi! Last warning—I’m kicking it!”

BOOM—his boot rattles the smart door!

Run! Can’t let him see!

Survival instinct wins. I bolt like a spooked rabbit, slipping and sprinting toward the master bath at the far end. Black sludge flings everywhere—floors, paintings, leather sofa—disaster zone.

BOOM! BOOM! The door groans.

I dive into the bath, slam the lock, back against cold marble, heart trying to crack ribs.

Scrrrape—shower handle—ice water cascades! I rip the contaminated dress—buttons fly—tear it off like enemy flags, fling it aside. Eyes shut, I scrub with the loofah until skin burns, refusing to glance at glass.

CRASH—!!!

Metal screams—outer door gives!

“Yun Xi!!” Wei Wu’s roar, raw with fear, cuts through water!

I kill the faucet. Dripping cherry-white hair, I spot one shield: a pure white bath towel on the rack. I snag it, wrap from chest to thigh, soaked hair still dripping.

“Yun Xi! Where are you? Answer!” His footsteps squelch through sludge, cursing, “What the hell is that smell... Yun Xi?!”

Footsteps—heading to master bedroom—closer—closer—

I stand like a plaster statue locked in place, dead centre of the bathroom. Water drops smack the tiles—plip, plop—each one a thunderclap in my ears. My heart ricochets inside my ribcage, every beat a hammer blow against the unfamiliar softness wrapped in a towel. Blood roars so loud I can hear it wash against my eardrums.

Out in the living-room Wei Wu’s footsteps fall like sledgehammers on my nerves. A wet squelch as he steps in the “purification residue,” then a low, furious mutter:

“Christ... this stench... like I just fell into a septic tank... Yun Xi! What kind of stunt are you pulling? If you’re alive, say something!”

The footsteps stop outside the master bedroom. I can picture his brows knotted tight, eyes sweeping the wreckage.

Creak—

The bedroom door eases open.

I stop breathing; every muscle is a bowstring drawn to snap. The cells that still answer to “Yun Xi” scream: Hide! Dive into the tub! Jump out the window!

But this brand-new body is nailed to the floor. Meng Yun Xi’s warning—“you’re about to be in danger”—slithers around me like a viper. Danger... Wei Wu? What if...?

A millisecond’s hesitation and the chance is gone.

The frosted-glass bathroom door I locked clicks open from the outside—one large, scar-knuckled hand twisting the handle.

Time freezes.

The door inches inward.

First thing I see: that hand, tendons white around the knob, old scars lacing the knuckles. Then half of Wei Wu’s face—jawline sharp as a blade, tanned skin smudged with grime. His usually lazy, mocking eyes are scanning like radar, twelve-tenths alert, still burning with worry. They slice through the steam and lock on the figure in the middle of the bathroom: a girl in a towel, soaked, cherry-blonde hair dripping, huge clear-blue eyes staring back in terror.

The air solidifies.

Wei Wu turns to stone in the doorway, expression cracking piece by piece—worry, anger, caution—all flaking off until only blank disbelief is left. His gaze crawls over my face—too perfect to be real—over the wet hair plastered to my neck, the curves under the towel, the bare shoulders glowing white, and finally fixes on my wide, panic-blue eyes.

His lips move soundlessly; his Adam’s apple jerks. At last a rasp crawls out:

“Who... are you?”

Sandpaper voice.

I’m done. So done.

My mind blanks; every excuse, disguise, scrap of composure vaporises. A volcano of shame, fear, and a weird hurt—being stared at like a stranger by the guy who’s been my brother in trash-talk for twenty-five years—blows the dam.

The instinct coded into “Yun Xi” grabs the steering wheel.

“I’m your dad, Yun Xi!”

The words blast out in a sweet, crystal-clear girl’s voice, outrage and despair cranked to eleven, bouncing off the steamed tiles and slamming into Wei Wu’s tottering world.

The air sets solid.

Time drops into absolute zero.

The look on Wei Wu’s face isn’t “cracked”; it’s a full-scale geological disaster. Pupils pin-prick small, then balloon wide, reflecting a soaked girl in a towel and a pair of eyes spelling we’re-screwed.

He stands petrified for five full seconds, only his Adam’s apple twitching as it tries to swallow the impossible.

“Yun... Xi?” He finds half a voice, warped and dry. “What... did you just say? Say it again.”

The stare you give an escaped psych-ward patient.

“I said!”—his look snaps the last thread of my shame—I tighten the towel, jut my chin (instant regret), and snarl with every gram of Yun Xi swagger this sugar-soprano throat can muster—“I—am—your—dad—Yun—Xi! Got it?! Wei Wu! Want me to recap your greatest hits? Third grade, wet pants in class; middle school, love letter to the next-door class queen read aloud in assembly; last month, killed three times in a row by the newbie-zone mob—need a refresher?!”

By the end my voice wobbles, half rage, half tears, but the venom lands.

Wei Wu’s cheek muscles start to tic. His searchlight eyes flick from my defiant face to the filthy scraps on the floor, to the carnage beyond the door, finally settling on my dripping cherry-blonde hair and the elfin ears half-hidden beneath.

The gleam in his eyes shifts.

Not just shock now—something deeper, like a lighthouse beam cutting fog. Sharp, puzzled, hunting for the familiar inside the impossible.

He doesn’t ask, doesn’t step closer.

Just drills holes through me with that stare, cold enough to make me shrink back until my spine hits chilly tile.

“Your voice...” he says at last, low and rough, almost dazed, word by word. “That tone just now...”

He narrows his eyes, laser-focused.

“...sounds familiar.”

Dead silence.

Only my quick, girlish breathing and that soft, spell-like sentence hanging in the steam.

Sounds... familiar?

My heart, after its wild sprint, plummets.

Crap. This just got... complicated.