Jiang Juan wearily rubbed his temples, closed the book, and picked up his phone. Unlocking it, he saw the time: 02:32.

The shame in his heart slowly faded. He wasn’t one to sigh over unfair fate. What happened, happened—he’d adapt.

Leaning back in his chair, he recalled Guyen’s words. That annoying face now felt vivid, etched with life in his mind.

Jiang Juan shook his head, brushing off stray emotions. He stood and walked toward the bedroom door.

He gently turned the doorknob. Bedroom light flooded the dark living room. Guyen, 1.83 meters tall, was cramped on the sofa. His blanket had slipped to the floor. Blinded by the light, he frowned, rolled over, and his tracksuit slid off his legs.

Jiang Juan pressed his lips together, glanced briefly, and ignored it. He headed straight for the bathroom.

Stripping off his clothes, he stepped under the shower. Torrential water washed away his frustration and fatigue.

Steam filled the bathroom. Jiang Juan swept his seaweed-tangled hair aside, revealing his smooth forehead.

He extended his bony hand, slowly wiping steam from the mirror. His blurry reflection stared back from lake-blue eyes.

This was a recent habit—he wanted to remember his current self. No one could guarantee he’d wake up still himself tomorrow.

"ID cards, diplomas, records—all laughable." Jiang Juan used a water droplet on his thumb to trace his crimson lips, then curved a mocking smile.

His body shifting toward femininity, he could ignore future gossip. He’d lick wounds alone, as always. But his diplomas, identity, certificates—all reduced to worthless paper. That, he couldn’t accept.

Seventeen years of effort, his very purpose, casually denied. The mire of his past seemed to clutch at him, dragging him toward a dark swamp.

Jiang Juan lowered his hand, closed his eyes, and fell silent. Thinking of the annoying man on the sofa, he smiled faintly. "What troubles do you have?"

---

Jiang Juan turned off the shower. After brushing his teeth, he dried his wet hair with a towel. He glanced at his slim-waisted, long-legged reflection, wrapped a bath towel around himself, and walked out.

Guyen still slept on the sofa, legs twisted oddly—one draped over the other, left foot twitching occasionally.

Jiang Juan raised an eyebrow but kept drying his hair. He walked into the bedroom and closed the door.

Darkness reclaimed the living room. Minutes later, the bedroom door opened again.

Wrapped in a towel, Jiang Juan’s brow furrowed with impatience. He strode to the sofa, staring at sleeping Guyen with clear disdain.

"What a hassle," he muttered, bending to pick up the blanket and cover Guyen.

He grabbed the tracksuit, tossed it onto Guyen’s legs. Seeing Guyen’s face, anger flared—he snatched the clothes and threw them over Guyen’s head.

Guyen grunted unconsciously in his sleep. His hand fumbled, pulling the fabric down to expose his nose. Mouth still covered, he shifted inward, seemingly satisfied.

Jiang Juan couldn’t suppress a faint smile at the sight.

"Perfect for you," he said with a nod, turning back to the bedroom.

The black night hid the moonlight, smoothing away worries. Their first night passed peacefully.