Women are born actresses. Men are born fools. And fools can never see through an actress’s performance—so the fact that I, a fool, debuted as a shoujo novelist is nothing short of a miracle.
Realizing this, I decided to date girls. Not for love, but for research.
Some might ask: "Why not just interview actresses directly?" Shallow!
I’m a full-grown man. If anyone found out I wrote shoujo novels, I’d be ridiculed—or at least die of embarrassment. My interactions with fans were strictly online, text-only. My publisher kept my identity hidden. To everyone except insiders, I was just Fenghua—the ultra-popular shoujo author.
Unintentionally, I’d become a gentle, caring big sister in my fans’ eyes.
Can you imagine the agony of being a guy mistaken for a woman—and being unable to deny it? If readers discovered Fenghua was male, even brilliant writing would be tainted by their bias.
My career hit a wall.
My last novel, *Beneath the Starry Sky*, was finished with help from my editor, Elder Sister Liu Xin. I’d consulted her on teenage girls’ inner worlds.
I planned the same for my new work. But after asking about a girl’s romantic feelings, she hung up on me. Every call since went straight to voicemail. Blocked.
Left with no choice, I turned to Yao Xingyan.
She was my goddess—purely aesthetic appreciation, nothing more. Besides, someone so popular must have rich romantic experiences. Perfect research material.
But now, that "perfect material" had rejected me.
My next novel’s deadline loomed like a storm cloud.
Dragging my frustrated body home, I booted up my computer to reply to fan comments—a daily ritual.
My blog flooded with messages:
*"Teacher Fenghua, I adore Liu Ming in ‘Fireworks’!"*
*"Your books are amazing! I’m obsessed!"*
Their love warmed me… yet pressure coiled in my chest. If my next work failed—
The consequences would be brutal.
*"...Teacher Fenghua, heard you’re a total babe! Post pics!"*
Plenty of teasing like that too. Mostly from male readers—yes, my shoujo novels had guy fans.
Back when I submitted to magazines, an artist named "The Illustration’s Illustration" took a… special interest in my work. She drew characters and illustrations based on my stories.
Here’s the kicker:
Every innocent character sketch eventually became explicit drawings. Sometimes even doujinshi booklets!
She claimed it was "love for my work." Her art did lure many "gentlemen" into becoming readers… but I couldn’t accept this method.
A hardcore otaku girl who chose such a suggestive pen name? When I debuted, I pictured her as a middle-aged woman with questionable hygiene.
Ignoring the flirty comments, I opened a blank document.
Still nothing. Beyond writer’s block, rejection stung—even for "research."
My creative path grew thornier.
7 PM glowed on my phone screen.
To buy new manga volumes and clear my head, I headed to the bookstore near the station.
Two floors, smaller than expected. Just a bestsellers display by the entrance and two wall shelves downstairs. Yet it felt airy, well-organized, cheerful.
"Back again, Xiao Hua? Manga’s all online now, right?"
The voice came with a wry smile.
Manager Rui Mengmeng—the shop’s sole employee and owner. Silver hair flowed over her shoulders, framing a delicate, almost fragile beauty. Early twenties, apron tied neatly. The only person besides my editor who knew my secret.
Two years ago, during *Beneath the Starry Sky*’s launch, I’d lurked here checking sales. Mengmeng-jie caught me. The memory still burned with shame.
"Pirated sites don’t count. I support legit copies."
"Mm, a big-name author like you should set an example."
"...I-I’m not *that* famous."
"Oh? Really?"
Not even a token denial. Pathetic reality.
I’d completed an entire series without cancellation. My serialized works were getting single-volume releases. Wasn’t that famous?
Why couldn’t Mengmeng-jie see it?
"By the way," she added, scrolling her phone, "I peeked at your blog earlier. You’re wildly popular with boys."
"...Don’t remind me."
"I bet Xiao Hua in a dress would outshine any girl." Her tone held zero irony.
My soul shattered a little more.
"...This mess is all ‘The Illustration’s Illustration’’s fault!"
"She did promote your novels."
"I don’t need *that* kind of promotion! If my identity leaks, dead rats might show up at my door!" I scowled. "I curse that otaku girl to spinsterhood!"
"Vicious, Xiao Hua." Mengmeng-jie’s eyes suddenly lit up. She tapped her screen. "But you might be disappointed—someone just confessed to ‘The Illustration’s Illustration’ today."
