A crisp, clear voice echoed through the hotel room at five in the morning.

Autumn Ease’s maternal uncle stared at her, dumbfounded.

She now had the form of a young girl.

Her soft, graceful figure, dewy pink lips, and bright, clear eyes...

Paired with her oversized shirt slipping off one shoulder, a hint of collarbone peeked through—crescent-shaped and strangely alluring.

Even the middle-aged man before her swallowed hard.

“Who... are you?” Uncle asked hoarsely. “What’re you doing here? Did I... enter the wrong room? No, that can’t be...”

Uncle was dazed, racking his brain for last night’s events.

He hadn’t slept—so no sleepwalking mix-up.

He hadn’t left the room either; only Autumn Ease had. If anyone wandered in, it should’ve been this girl.

But no one else had entered. He’d stayed wide awake all night.

“Where’s Autumn Ease?” he pressed.

The girl’s presence and Autumn Ease’s absence felt surreal—like a body swap, or Autumn Ease transformed into her.

Autumn Ease’s mind was a tangled mess. How to explain this?

This was her first time facing anything like it!

“I... uh...” Her head throbbed. What could she even say?

Uncle, still confused, doubted his memory. He stepped out to check the room number, then returned.

Autumn Ease gathered her words. “If I... if I say I’m...”

She swallowed, about to speak—when the half-open door creaked wider.

Her eyes widened. It was the girl from the train seat beside her.

Expressionless, the girl walked in, arms hanging loose. Her gaze locked onto Uncle.

Even untargeted, Autumn Ease felt the air thicken. A cloyingly sweet scent spread.

Her body froze. Not just her—time itself had stopped.

Uncle couldn’t twitch. Even a stubborn mosquito hung motionless mid-air.

Autumn Ease, an atheist, faced undeniable proof. Magic? Or tech so advanced it terrified her.

Was this girl from the future?

The silence was eerie. Autumn Ease couldn’t speak or move—only her thoughts raced.

Time rewound.

An unseen force pulled her back into bed. Uncle followed suit.

Everything reset to just before the alarm.

Time flowed again.

Trapped under the quilt, Autumn Ease heard distant chimes—then her phone blared.

He flung off the covers, silencing it. Uncle glanced back, weary-eyed. “Awake?”

“Huh?” Autumn Ease froze.

This reaction was different.

He checked his body.

Yes—he’d changed back to his male self.

He remembered the time-freezing girl. But she’d vanished.

Who controlled time? Why?

Magic or science, he needed answers. Why turn female at night? Why revert?

That vivid dream—did that other “her” exist?

Questions multiplied the more he dug.

“Uncle...” he ventured, “what were you doing earlier?”

“Gaming.”

A normal reply. He’d forgotten everything.

Autumn Ease scratched his head, silent.

Relief brought a sudden, urgent need to pee.

“Feels like someone’s peeing by my face. Nasty design,” Uncle grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Autumn Ease chuckled awkwardly, cheeks burning.

Dawn broke despite the sleepless night. No sun—just gray light under lingering clouds, rain paused but threatening.

Breakfast waited in the lobby. Early risers—or insomniacs—filled the sparse buffet.

Just a small-town hotel; fancy meals weren’t an option.

Uncle and Autumn Ease left with the crowd. No familiar faces. No ride.

They’d planned to share Auntie’s car, but she’d gone ahead.

Others refused them seats—cars “full,” though Uncle saw through the polite lies. Strangers in plain clothes weren’t worth the space.

Better to wait for useful connections. Even funerals bred calculation.

Autumn Ease hated it.

The walk was barely a kilometer. Freedom beat forced company.

“People are so fake,” he muttered, walking with Uncle toward the funeral home.

“People are like that. Why d’you think I run a hotel?”

“Where’d you get the money for it?”

“Investors. I’m just a glorified manager,” Uncle said wryly.

“Nice. Get rich, don’t forget me.” Autumn Ease slung an arm over his shoulder, buddy-like.

“Deal. Whoever makes it first covers the other.”

“Haha...” Autumn Ease laughed. Rich? He’d settle for ten grand a month.

He chatted easily, masking his turmoil. Adults wore masks—hiding true selves until solitude. But even alone, which “self” was real?

A car offered a lift halfway. They declined.

Why trouble others when you can walk?

They arrived on time. The procession was still assembling.

“Haihua!” Auntie called.

“What?”

“You’ll scatter paper money up front.” She handed him a stick strung with spirit money, then eyed Autumn Ease. “If his nephew’s late, you’ll hold the photo.”

“Uh, sure.”

Holding the photo meant closeness—outsiders weren’t trusted with it.

But Autumn Ease barely knew his uncle. The thought creeped him out.

Luckily, the nephew arrived. Autumn Ease slipped into the crowd.

Each held a burning incense stick. Cold wind and drizzle threatened the flames before six a.m.

Mournful music played. A “cannon” van led—just speakers mimicking booms, no smoke or gunpowder scent.

Behind it, a van carried the coffin, swaying on bumpy roads.

Mourners trailed slowly.

No one knew why they walked this way—just tradition.

Really, it was reluctance to let go.

Though few truly felt it.

Autumn Ease spotted his uncle’s daughter. Last night, she’d laughed freely. Now, she sobbed into her hands.

Grief finally broke through.