The worst part of sleeping is not being able to fall asleep. Next is having those broken, fragmented dreams where you know it’s a dream but can’t wake up no matter what.

My dreams were like that—less like dreams, more like scattered memory shards. So fragmented they might be just a single sentence or a fleeting image, impossible to piece together. The older the memory, the blurrier it became. I couldn’t even tell which life stage they belonged to.

Instinctively, I sensed my real age before crossing over might’ve been over thirty. Even memories from before thirty felt incomplete—important fragments missing. I knew they existed but couldn’t recall their contents.

*Crash.* A heavy thud from the room jolted me awake. In the dead silence of night, the sound cut through sharply.

“Ugh—” I forced my eyes open, escaping that spinning nightmare. The moon hung high, silently casting its pale glow. Outside, cicadas droned on—the one summer comfort, keeping loneliness at bay even in the deepest night.

Waking mid-sleep meant answering nature’s call. But when I sat up, the other side of the mat was empty. Cold. Yue Feather hadn’t slept here at all.

Not surprising. Even with my current life experience, I’d avoid sharing a bed with a girl out of shyness or fear. My identity was awkward, making trust hard to build. If I were male, an all-night talk would’ve sealed our bond—brothers by dawn. Men connect so easily.

He must’ve slept on the bed. I nudged the clattering fan with my foot, quieting its rattle, then glanced up. But Yue Feather wasn’t there. The rumpled sheets suggested he’d slept, though. Maybe he’d gone to the bathroom?

Curious, I opened the door—and found him sprawled on the floor, fast asleep. That crash must’ve been him falling.

“This kid,” I chuckled helplessly. “Sleeping through a fall?” Maybe I should’ve added, “Youth really is bliss.” For someone like me, waking at the slightest sound was normal after thirty.

“Huff—” I heaved Yue Feather up with effort, dumping him onto the bed in a crooked heap. My girl body just didn’t have the strength. He wasn’t heavy, but I was weak. Panting slightly, I straightened him out, covered his stomach with a thin blanket, and sighed in relief before heading to the bathroom.

*Splash—* Liquid hitting the floor. Actually, it sounded more like a showerhead spraying. Because I’d stood up, I’d soaked my pants—and even my oversized shirt was splattered. Half-asleep and unused to this body, the accident was inevitable. Such a headache.

Girls’ bodies really were inconvenient. After cleaning up, I squatted carefully to avoid missing the toilet. So troublesome.

Exhausted, I soaked the shirt and underwear in the sink, grabbed a fresh shirt from the wardrobe, and collapsed onto the bed. Too tired to care about modesty—I’d deal with it tomorrow. Honestly, this was cooler. The fan’s breeze flowed right inside, cooling me from within. Men only got external cooling. Everything had two sides, good or bad…

…

Yue Feather slept deeply. Thunder wouldn’t wake him—he’d even slept through New Year’s Eve fireworks. In his dream, a soft body hugged him, like his mother’s embrace from childhood. He couldn’t see her face, but her scent was familiar and comforting. Then he felt lifted and placed on a surface, like being tucked into a crib. What stuck with him most was the faint milky fragrance—lighter, fresher, sweeter than childhood memories. He didn’t question his dream-sharp sense of smell. It was just a dream, after all.

Morning’s alarm blared, then died under his swift slap. Time to rise.

Kitchen clatter and bubbling water filled the air. Yue Feather’s memories flashed back to childhood—his mother always up early, cooking breakfast. He hadn’t heard those sounds in years, especially since moving to this small city for high school. Mornings were lonely now: waking alone, buying breakfast outside.

Dazed, he wandered to the kitchen. Silver Bell was busy, finely chopping cabbage, spreading tomato sauce on toast, adding a fried egg, and packing it neatly for him to take to school. A pot on the stove bubbled with wontons.

“Up already?” Silver Bell glanced over, smiling. But her eyes were red-rimmed, tired. His first alarm rang at 5:30—he’d woken at the first ring. She must’ve risen by five.

Five AM… Even in summer, the sun barely peeked then.

Grateful but puzzled, Yue Feather thought: *She’s repaying my kindness, but this feels excessive. “Unusual kindness often hides ill intent.”* Still, he preferred to believe she was simply kind-hearted.

“Yeah… just woke. You’re up so early.”

“Not a big deal,” she smiled, unable to hide her exhaustion.

“You should rest properly today…” he managed awkwardly. For him, this was bold concern.

“Mm.”

“I’ll… go wash up?”

“Go ahead.”

After washing, breakfast waited on the table. Just wontons with dried shrimp and seaweed—but to Yue Feather, it tasted better than any meal in his lonely year of bought breakfasts. Compared to this humble bowl, those were like dog food next to a feast.

“This… well, it’s a sandwich. Take it to school for a snack when you’re hungry.”

“Th-thanks…”

“No need. It’s the least I can do.” Silver Bell yawned hugely and flopped onto the sofa. “So sleepy…”

“Rest a bit then…” His voice stiffened. Where her thighs met the sofa, no underwear edge showed. Boxers couldn’t be that short—they’d peek with any movement. Their home had no women’s underwear, not even men’s briefs. Only one possibility: Silver Bell wore nothing underneath.

*Gulp.* He swallowed hard, too shy to ask. Before leaving, he spotted her soaked clothes in a basin in the bathroom. So she’d changed shirts. But why no underwear? Maybe she wore some and he just missed it.

Even imagining it, his face burned crimson. He shook his head fiercely. “No, no—stop thinking like that! Obsessing over whether a girl’s wearing… that’s perverted!”

Just then, Silver Bell rolled over. A button on her shirt hem popped open…