Watching sunsets and wallowing in melancholy was Xiao Yi’s thing. I considered myself an optimist—otherwise, I wouldn’t have calmly comforted our deranged homeroom teacher.

This time, I tucked all my hair under a tilted baseball cap and swore three solemn oaths: anyone mistaking me for a girl next—man, woman, child, or elder—would get a friendship-breaking face punch!

Barely out of the classroom, my phone buzzed twice in my pocket. Two WeChat messages popped up simultaneously.

Xiao Yi called this app "Earth Online’s social hub for normies." Even with my three troublemaker friends added, my contacts barely hit double digits. I didn’t know how widespread it was, but since even Mom was on it, I figured it must be popular.

Of course, slave-driver Jiang Xiaoyu had installed it for me. To me, it was just a 24/7 timed explosive collar for taking orders—like the Heavenly Mountain Child Elder’s life-or-death talisman.

*Your Ancestors Are All Fish People:* "Is dinner ready?"

No question mark. Not a request, not a greeting. I knew who it was without checking the nickname. Hearing my sister sweetly say, "Onii-chan, I’m hungry!"? I’d given up on that dream long ago.

*Idiot:* "Help! Please!"

Yuzuru Sensei’s second message was far more polite—and urgent—than Glutton Xiaoyu’s. Instantly, my mind spun endless possibilities. I was already intrigued by what I’d need to do next.

Childhood friend Nan Dongye was clearly in crisis. Best-case scenario: some school bully harassed a good girl, and I’d swoop in as the hero. Or maybe she’d been confessed to and needed a backup boyfriend to bail her out. Either way, I’d happily help—as long as they saw me as a guy.

I shot back to Yuzuru Sensei without hesitation: "Where are you?"

After a brief pause, I remembered this morning’s painful lesson. My back muscles still ached. Out of slave-like humility—no, brotherly authority—I politely replied to the slave-driver: "Not yet. Just got out of class. I’ll head home immediately to prepare your dinner, Your Majesty."

*Your Ancestors Are All Fish People:* "You actually went to school? Did you surrender to imperialism, you meat vessel!?"

Xiaoyu replied first. Cold sweat trickled down my spine. She’d clearly been waiting by her phone. A delayed reply would’ve been catastrophic.

My kind stepfather had become "imperialism" under the slave-driver’s venom. But "meat vessel"? That was a bit much...

Then it hit me—I could use school as an excuse to ditch errand duty! With the speed of an 18-year single man, I typed: "Dare not! Homeroom teacher caught me today. I can’t serve you anymore. Please take care of your royal health, Your Majesty!"

*Your Ancestors Are All Fish People:* "Take care of your grandma’s leg! Don’t come home. Get over here now. Ten minutes."

Ten minutes? Even if I flew a plane, takeoff and landing alone would eat five! And a high schooler needing a personal chauffeur? Who did she think she was—a princess? Typical capitalist slave-driver. Zero reason.

Just then, Yuzuru Sensei’s reply finally came: "Third floor, near the roundabout corner. Bring my bag. Urgent! Online waiting!"

Simple math: ditching my bike for the subway to City No.1 High would take fifteen minutes if lucky. Sprinting downstairs to bike there? Twenty. Either way, I’d be late. Better to rescue a damsel first.

When I reached the roundabout corner, I realized—it was a public restroom. Empty. No villainous Kuma ripping up skirts like in my fantasies. Why send an SOS here?

I sensed trouble and wanted to flee back to my slave-driver, but it was too late. Nan Dongye’s panicked voice echoed from inside: "Jiang Lan! Is that you? Get in here!"

You’ve got to be kidding. Even if you invite me like it’s your living room, I’m not stepping into a *girls’* restroom!

"What for? Can’t you come out?"

"I... I can’t stand. And I’m in no state to walk!"

What debuff cripples movement? Stun? Root? Periods really were terrifying. No wonder she needed a med kit—probably packed with winged, leak-proof angels like Whisper pads.

Not the point. I flatly refused: "I’m not entering a girls’ restroom!"

"No one’s here! Just be quick!"

"No! It’s a moral line! Cross it, and there’s no going back!"

"What nonsense! I’m not asking you to get a sex change in Thailand and waltz in legally!"

Huh. She had a point. Since elementary school, every boy’s been curious about forbidden zones—like Pandora’s box. The more you can’t enter, the itchier it gets. Why *can’t* boys enter girls’ restrooms? Gynecologists are mostly men anyway.

Deep questions arose:

Why separate restrooms?

Why must girls squat for both "normal" and "heroic" bathroom breaks?

Why did Xiaoyu pull my... thing during childhood baths and ask Mom, "What’s this?"

Back before PE health class, I’d wondered: Why didn’t Xiaoyu have one? Did solids and liquids exit the same hole? Like constant diarrhea? Disgusting...

Such thoughts haunted me after Dad’s "be a man" talks.

While I pondered the ♀ symbol, Yuzuru Sensei snapped:

"You... I... Please! I can’t move! Do you want me stuck here for an hour?" Nan Dongye’s voice cracked with tears.

My first request to enter a girls’ restroom. *Requested.* I was proud I still felt that masculine mix of reverence and restless curiosity.

To go or not to go—that was the question.

Nan Dongye’s pained voice cut through: "Why silent? Did you leave? Come back! No one’ll recognize you anyway—you look like a..."

Empty halls. A girl’s desperate plea. As a gentleman, how could I abandon her?

Perfectly reasonable. After near-zero internal debate, I cleared my throat. "Fine. But this stays secret!"

"Hurry!"

I glanced around like a thief, then tiptoed through the gates of a new world, heart pounding.

Honestly... underwhelming. Just wall-mounted toilets and tiles—barely different from the boys’. Disappointed, I scanned the space. God was fair: even spotless girls’ restrooms, scented with deodorizer balls, couldn’t hide that faint, ominous bloody scent. Women really did suffer a monthly injury.

"Did you bring my bag?"

A weak voice came from the last stall. Nan Dongye clearly didn’t consider this a memorable meetup spot.

I turned away, passing her crossbody bag over the partition. Rustling followed.

"Done. Now... help me up. I can’t stand."

No choice. I prayed no one else would rush in mid-crisis.

Eyes fixed on the ceiling, I approached. A slightly trembling, ice-cold hand gripped mine—she felt weak.

No embarrassing scenes awaited. Nan Dongye had tidied up. I pulled her out. Pale-faced, legs shaking, she leaned half her weight on my shoulder.

"How’ll you get home? I’ll carry you?"

She gasped in pain. "No... my legs... won’t... open. Carry me downstairs. My dad’s waiting at the gate."

*Why not ask Dad to come in?* Bad timing to joke—she struggled to breathe. I nodded, bent down, and hoisted her jean-clad legs over my shoulder, her petite frame slung like a farmer’s harvest sack...

Blood rushed to Nan Dongye’s head. After a stunned pause, she shrieked, crimson flooding her cheeks: "Idiot! I said *carry* me! Not shoulder me like a sack of potatoes!"

"How then?" I set her down gently.

"Squat! One hand on my back—yes. Other hand under my knees—support me. Yes! Now stand!"

Nan Dongye suddenly perked up, no longer half-dead.

"This works? Feels lighter."

Yuzuru Sensei weighed nothing—like holding a boneless cloud. She nodded weakly, looping her slender arms around my neck. Her pale face, pressed to my chest, regained a hint of color.

Only then did it dawn on me: this was the legendary princess carry. I just wanted to escape before witnesses arrived.