This night was anything but peaceful.

Xiaohan kicked off the quilt in her sleep around midnight, sweating and restless. Chunan woke to her fussing and carefully tucked the covers back over both their stomachs to ward off the chill.

She kicked it off again.

When Chunan roused a second time, he simply covered himself and left her be.

At 3 a.m., the coldest hour, the uncovered Xiaohan unconsciously sought warmth in her sleep. She burrowed against Chunan’s side.

So when dawn broke and Chunan woke groggy, he found someone draped over him.

Nearly half her body pinned him down—arms clinging, one leg hooked over his waist in a rather intimate position.

It would’ve been perfect if not for the drool soaking his shirt.

Staring at her sleeping face, Chunan’s mood turned complicated.

He wasn’t some saint immune to soft warmth pressed against him—especially not right after waking, when natural physiological responses ran high. The soft pressure against his abdomen didn’t help.

But… no, *thankfully*, the cold, damp patch of drool on his chest cooled his impulses.

He took a deep breath and shoved Xiaohan off him.

The sudden jolt yanked her awake. “Who the hell—?!” she snapped, scowling. Her glare landed on Chunan and faltered.

*Right. I’m at his place.*

Chunan stared at her for three seconds, then looked away. He sat up and peeled off his soaked T-shirt. “You’re legendary. I almost drowned in your drool.”

Xiaohan finally noticed the wet stain.

*…My drool?*

“Haha… you know I sleep like a tornado, right?” She laughed it off.

Chunan didn’t look back. “Sleep if you’re tired. I’m getting breakfast.”

Xiaohan studied him.

Even back then, she rarely saw Chunan shirtless. After they hit puberty, he’d grown reserved. Those childhood days of bathing together were long gone.

That rarity made her curious now.

Chunan had a good build.

In his past life, he’d been a corporate drone—burning the candle at both ends until his body broke down young. This life, he prioritized fitness. Especially now as a streamer, cooped up indoors all day.

A year ago, he’d gotten a gym membership.

Three days a week.

Not intense, but consistent. No bulky muscles, just clean lines shaping his frame.

Come to think of it, she’d impulsively signed up with him once.

A quarterly pass. She’d lasted seven days.

“You still hitting the gym?” she blurted.

Chunan pulled on a fresh T-shirt and shot her a look. “Unlike *some* people?”

“Hey! Don’t compare everything to me,” Xiaohan frowned. “I’m busy. Not all of us have free time like you.”

“You’re free now. Want a membership?”

“…”

Xiaohan fell silent. Chunan suddenly remembered a system reward.

“Nah. Skip the gym. I’ll get you a treadmill. Train daily. If you balloon up like a pig, I’ll drop you as my sponsor.”

“…”

Xiaohan gritted her teeth. “So you’re just a looks freak? What about ‘best bros forever’?”

“You’re not a guy anymore.”

“Does that cancel brotherhood? How archaic.”

“Turns out I’m big on formalities.”

“And our years of friendship?”

“What’s it worth? Gonna feed the grass?”

“…”

Chunan walked out.

Xiaohan glared at the closed door, then flopped back onto the bed. “Jerk. If *you’d* turned into a girl, I’d be the first to—”

The door swung open.

“What breakfast?” Chunan asked.

The rest of her sentence died in her throat. “…Soup noodles. No spice.”

They locked eyes for a beat. He shut the door.

Xiaohan yanked the quilt over her head, rolled twice, and burrito-wrapped herself.

*Sponsorship isn’t all sunshine*, she realized. Chunan had always loved watching her squirm—it was his weird hobby. Before, she could volley back. Now? She was clearly losing.

*Fine. Swallow pride under someone’s roof…* She kicked the quilt off.

*Too hot!*

Chunan didn’t care what she was doing inside.

He stood on the balcony, eyeing the dried women’s clothes hanging there.

He pulled out his phone and searched:

**[How to shop for clothes with your girlfriend]**

Results flooded in—veteran confessions dripping with male suffering. *How to read her eyes to guess what she wants. How to decode her expressions. How to interpret hidden meanings in her tone.* Compile these, and you’d have a book: *Modern Woman-Reading: Shopping Edition*.

Not what he needed.

He just wanted to buy women’s clothes.

Xiaohan wouldn’t know how either.

He’d used “girlfriend” because searching “childhood friend turned girl” would only attract creepy fantasies from lonely single guys.

*How do I fake being a pro at shopping for girlfriends?*

“Dry?” Xiaohan’s voice startled him. She squeezed onto the balcony, stretching on tiptoes to check her underwear.

Chunan watched her struggle with the last two centimeters.

Kindly, he lowered the rack. “Are you an idiot?”

His tone dripped with brotherly concern.

Xiaohan: “…”

*If I hadn’t shrunk, I wouldn’t need this!* She used to yank clothes down easily during sleepovers!

Fuming, she grabbed the bra strap—

*Snap!*

The strap broke.

Xiaohan: “…”

Chunan: “…”

*Never expect quality from freebies.*