The suitcase held two sets of girls' clothes I usually wore: a white knitted sweater and a blue-collared shirt.

Of course, there was also the most important item—a B+ cup bra.

It was off-white with a hint of pink, matching my hair color, and had a tiny bow right in the center, radiating pure girlish charm.

Well, bras are like that—either childish or sexy. So, being girlish was fine. Holding this long-lost friend after just one day apart, I felt a trace of deep nostalgia.

As for the boy’s clothes and pants I’d shed on the chair last night, my feelings toward them were purely mournful.

Dressed and ready, I grabbed Yejia Yin’s phone and knocked on the adjacent room door. Yejia Yin was already awake, sitting by the window and gazing outside at who-knows-what.

Today, she wore a black turtleneck hugging her slender frame, paired with light yellow shorts and dark black tights covering her long legs. With her silky black hair, she was just one word—black!

My eye twitched uncontrollably. Seriously, Miss Yejia, is this a wedding or a funeral?

“What is it? Something wrong?” Yejia Yin noticed me and asked. I tiptoed over carefully and presented her phone with both hands.

Seeing my cautious demeanor, she raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t do anything weird with my phone, did you?”

I recalled last night’s 648-yuan top-up, blushed, and shook my head vigorously. “No, no, really not.”

Spending on gacha isn’t weird, right? Is topping up in mobile games that strange?

Yejia Yin took the phone, tucked it into her bag, checked the time, and said, “Let’s go eat breakfast. We leave after.”

I knew today was a huge day—critical, where even a tiny mishap would be mortifying. But did breakfast have to be this bland bowl of plain rice porridge? Smelling the aromas from other tables, I looked at Yejia Yin pitifully and whispered, “Um, could I have a small dish of peanuts?”

If not, pickled cabbage would do too.

Yejia Yin ate her porridge without glancing up, simply saying, “If you don’t want to pass gas during the wedding…”

I shuddered, imagining it: under countless guests’ stares, *pfft pfft*. My dignity would be ruined forever.

So I shut up and ate in silence. After a quick meal, we returned to the hotel lobby. Soon, Yejia Yin got a call and signaled it was time to go.

Downstairs, a car waited—not the familiar low-key black business sedan. Though also black, it was smaller and flashier. Compared to Yejia Yin’s car, which was dignified but looked old-fashioned.

Personally, I used to love flashy rides—streamlined bodies, four exhaust pipes, flat designs, convertible or not, as long as they looked awesome.

But now… no matter the car, stability and comfort mattered most. I was hopeless with motion sickness. Thinking this, Yejia Yin’s business sedan might actually be better?

Anyway, at first glance, I guessed the owner. Yesterday at dinner, someone had raved about their car being “low-key yet profound, showing a man’s composure with youthful flair.” Now seeing it, I had to admit—it kinda fit.

Following Yejia Yin, I slid into the back seat. Up front, the driver was that familiar young man. He turned and greeted, “Morning, Boss Ye.”

“Not morning,” Yejia Yin retorted coldly. “It’s almost eight.”

Lin Dong knew her temper and chuckled helplessly. He turned to me, but froze when he saw my face. “Huh? Who are you?”

I remembered I was back in my girl form, which Lin Dong hadn’t seen. Recalling his “insolence” at dinner, a mischievous urge rose. I stayed silent, just staring at him with innocent eyes.

“Hey, Boss Ye, who’s this beautiful little girl? Did you and your wife already have a kid?” Lin Dong asked when I didn’t answer. His words almost choked me. Little girl? That’s too much—even “loli” would be better. And Boss Ye’s kid? She’s only fifteen; could she have a son at two?

But no, I mustn’t break character. I had to see his dumbfounded face when he realized the truth. Coincidentally, Yejia Yin just glanced at me, perhaps sensing my plan, and stayed silent.

Lin Dong grew uneasy under my stare, wondering if he’d offended me. But she looked like a middle schooler—too young to understand. No help from Boss Ye, so he swallowed hard and said, “Uh, pretty little sister, I’m Lin Dong. Call me Brother Lin… or not, if you prefer.”

I couldn’t hold back and giggled, my voice soft and sweet. “No, no, Brother Dong, you’re too modest. I should call you ‘ge’ after all.”

Caught off guard, Lin Dong reflexively replied, “No, no, Sister-in-law, you’re too kind. I call Boss Ye ‘boss,’ so you’re my second boss.”

Second boss? I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach. Lin Dong’s face turned ghostly pale as he stared at my smiling face. “S-s-s-sister-in-law?!”