Following Yejia Yin into the elevator, we squeezed in shoulder-to-shoulder. Lunch hour meant it wasn’t packed, but still crowded enough to press us together.
Thankfully, Yejia Yin stayed silent. I let out a quiet breath as she calmly pressed the “5” button.
Just the two of us this time—no entourage. Was she handling this business meeting alone? Watching her petite fifteen-year-old frame, a wave of respect washed over me.
She was barely old enough for legal responsibility, yet ran her domain with ruthless efficiency. Meanwhile, I was a year older, living under someone else’s roof, failing at everything, and constantly reading others’ moods.
Speaking of moods—I glanced up at her face. Our eyes locked.
*Gulp.*
I flinched and stared at my shoes. A flicker crossed Yejia Yin’s lips just as the elevator dinged for the fifth floor. She yanked me out.
“It’s just picking a wedding dress. Must you be so tense?”
Her first words outside. She’d misunderstood my panic—thinking I feared the shop, not *her*.
…Though was that… an attempt to comfort me? The words held no warmth, but the meaning was there. A tiny spark of happiness flared. *This* was the real Yejia Yin—not the “ordinary schoolgirl” act. The icy typhoon actually cared? Did that mean… I had some worth after all?
That “ordinary” version… I hadn’t seen it since the school festival. Pity. That Yejia Yin *was* genuinely cute. I understood now: the underworld demanded shadows. Her cheerful mask was just survival. Maybe at Lanying Academy, I’d see it again…
“What are you daydreaming about?” Her voice cut through my thoughts, sharp with annoyance. “Your eyes are practically spinning cartoon spirals.”
*Do I really look that obvious?* I ducked my head. “N-nothing!”
Like I’d ever admit I’d been fantasizing about her “normal” self.
We stepped into the bridal boutique. Gleaming tiles, hushed elegance. A neatly dressed saleswoman approached. “Welcome, young ladies.”
If I were still male—170cm tall—I’d call her “sister.” But at 140cm? “Auntie” it was.
Before I could speak, Yejia Yin stated flatly: “Here for wedding dresses.”
*Oh no.* Two palm-sized kids browsing bridal gowns? This wasn’t a candy store. I mentally screamed the saleswoman’s unspoken thoughts: *Do we look like a zoo exhibit?*
Awkward silence. The saleswoman’s smile froze. Professional to the core, she recovered smoothly: “Helping family members choose, perhaps?”
*Bless you.* I nodded eagerly—
“No.” Yejia Yin’s finger pointed at me like a celestial decree. “For her.”
The saleswoman’s smile turned rigid. Her eyes darted between us. Just as my face burned crimson, she offered a lifeline: “Ah! For a cosplay event? Stage costumes?”
*You angel!* I nearly sobbed with relief—until Yejia Yin opened her mouth again—
“No—”
“Yes! Exactly!” I blurted, lunging to clamp my palm over her mouth.
*What did I just do?!*
Soft. Warm. Like pink cotton candy. *Wait… that simile…*
*Lips.*
I snatched my hand back, shrinking into myself. *This is Frost-Queen Yejia Yin! I just muffled her like a ragdoll!*
The saleswoman stood frozen. Then a hand tapped her shoulder. She stiffened. “M-manager…”
“No trouble, Xiao Zhang. I’ll take over.”
*Ah. An inside contact.* Of course. No minor could walk into a high-end boutique for a wedding gown without backup.
Yejia Yin addressed the manager: “Take her. I’m leaving.” Her tone gave nothing away. *Leaving?!*
I lunged, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Don’t go! I’m sorry! Please don’t abandon me here—I don’t know anyone! I’ve got no money! What if they blame me for making you leave?!”
She struggled slightly. “Let go. I’ve arranged everything here.”
*That’s exactly why I’m terrified!*
“The driver’s waiting downstairs. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m not worried about the ride! I’m worried about *surviving*!”
“I have real business,” she pressed her temple, “like dealing with the people who nearly killed you last time. Or should I let them visit you again?”
*Oh.* Genuine errands. Not anger. I peeked up—her expression was serious. Slowly, I released her, cheeks flaming. *Another humiliation logged.*
The manager led me past the showroom into a private fitting room. Two elegant women greeted me, guiding me toward a plush bed. I shot a nervous glance back—the manager had already vanished.
*He just… left? And why are they pulling me into a bedroom?!*
“W-what are you doing?” My voice came out pathetically soft.
“Don’t be scared, little sister,” said the wavy-haired woman, settling me on the bed. “Custom wedding dresses need measurements.”
“Measurements?” I blinked, confused.
“Your body dimensions,” the other woman chimed in, waving a measuring tape. “Shoulders, bust, waist, hips… especially bust.” She leaned in, hands outstretched like a demon’s. “Let’s see your potential.”
*NOOOOOOOOO—!!!*
I’m Luo Xiaoyao. Not a genius, but sharp enough—I navigate school politics, know when to speak or stay silent. People call me dense sometimes. That’s fair. My brain works fine for “normal” things.
But girl-stuff? Peeing myself in panic? Not wearing a bra? I *was* a boy. My mind short-circuits on feminine realities.
So…
“Wow! For your age, you’ve got serious potential here!”
*DON’T REMIND ME!* I’d almost forgotten I was half-naked with two women’s hands all over me!
