"Um... Madam, Xiao Qing is a boy, right?" I finally couldn’t hold back the question.

"Eh? Oh, yes! Didn’t I tell you?"

"You didn’t..."

"Ever since kindergarten, Xiao Qing’s loved wearing girls’ clothes. So I just... kept dressing her that way."

"This might mess with his gender identity later," I said, worried.

"Pfft, it’s fine. He’s just a kid." Su Yuanyuan waved it off lightly.

I sighed inwardly. No point arguing further—I wasn’t good at long lectures anyway.

In my memories of the future, masculinity had softened across China and neighboring regions. The ideal "handsome guy" shifted from rugged toughness to delicate, doll-like boys. That wasn’t the real issue. The problem was boys with shaky self-worth and unclear gender identities, swept up by trends until it was too late to turn back. Countless reports told of boys convinced they were girls, getting surgeries, then drowning in regret. So many young guys never truly knew what they wanted.

The future was brilliant yet tangled. Countless souls lost themselves—and this was just one tiny ripple in that sea of confusion.

What if Xiao Qing grows up wanting to be a girl?

Raised as one since childhood, she’d absorb feminine mannerisms like breath. Honestly, she already had a girl’s personality: sweetly mischievous, far more obedient than most boys.

Correcting this young might still work. But after puberty? Nearly impossible.

Though... if he truly chooses to be a girl as an adult, that’s his right.

My thoughts drifted far. To others, this might seem distant—but to me, it felt like yesterday’s memory.

After all, I’d time-jumped here. I sensed the "seeds" this era planted.

Watching Su Yuling play house with a doll in the shop, I sighed helplessly.

The more she acts like a girl now, the harder her future will be.

Why? Simple. Kids blur gender lines. Adults don’t. Boys develop broader shoulders, thicker bones—no matter how pretty their face, most can’t pull off dresses convincingly. Seeing themselves in girls’ clothes, looking utterly unlike one... that’d crush them.

But she’s not my child. My worry meant nothing.

Besides, this was ten years away. None of my business. I was just seeing a tiny shadow of society’s chaos.

Lost in thought, I worked until stars glittered and a pale crescent moon hung halfway up the sky.

"Be careful heading home!" Madam called warmly. "Stick to crowded streets!"

"Mhm, I know," I nodded. She said this every night.

The night market buzzed with street vendors. Past it, streets grew quiet.

Dim streetlights lit my path. Rustles in the bushes startled stray cats and dogs into darting shadows.

Thankfully, summer cicadas droned endlessly—keeping the silence from turning eerie.

I trudged toward my apartment complex, legs weak as noodles. My whole body felt hollow.

*What’s wrong...?*

Like a bad omen crawling under my skin.

Dizziness blurred my thoughts. I nearly tripped on a raised pavement tile.

*Anemia?*

*Eating too little lately?*

But I genuinely couldn’t stomach big meals.

Every muscle ached. This weakness was awful.

Then—sharp pain knifed my lower belly.

*Ow!*

*Why does it hurt here?*

Food poisoning? Impossible. I’d only eaten proper meals today.

Bad ingredients in the takeout?

I dragged myself to my building’s entrance.

Just seeing the long staircase made despair coil in my chest.

Climbing one step now felt harder than scaling a mountain.

Thankfully, the railing was there. I gripped its dusty surface, hauling myself upward inch by inch.

The pain didn’t fade—it intensified.

First like a punch. Then a brutal kick. Now? Unbearable. I couldn’t imagine worse.

*Misery...*

*Is this time travel’s side effect?*

The thought shattered under fresh agony.

I barely had strength to knock on my door.

"Coming!" Yue Feather’s voice chirped inside. Light footsteps. A lock clicked. The door swung open.

I clutched the handle, knees buckling.

"Silver Bell? What’s wrong?" Yue Feather’s voice tightened.

"Ugh... nngh..." I gasped, unable to form words.

"A-are you okay?"

*Do I look okay?*

"Aaah!" A vicious cramp wrenched my gut. I collapsed to my knees with an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp.

Humiliation didn’t matter now—

Because my pants were suddenly soaked with warm liquid. *Did I just... lose control from pain?*

*How mortifying.*

I staggered up, swaying into the bathroom.

"Silver Bell!?"

"I’m... fine," I croaked, slamming the door shut. Leaning against it, I gulped air.

*What is this unnatural pain?*

Food poisoning couldn’t feel like this.

Like knives shredding my organs. Or a propeller spinning wildly in my gut.

No normal person could endure this.

Slowly, the pain dulled—or my nerves went numb. Enough to move.

First: change these clothes.

My soaked underwear clung uncomfortably.

Peeling off my pants, I froze.

Blood.

My grayish-white boxers were stained deep red. A metallic stench hit my nose. I gagged, tossing them into a waiting basin.

The water turned pink instantly.

*Am I dying?*

*Why so much blood?*

My foggy brain finally caught up.

Half a minute of blank staring—then realization crashed over me.

*Period.*

A girl’s monthly visitor.

This body’s first period. Hence the flood.

But... *why so painful?*

Was first-time pain this brutal? Or was this body doomed to suffer cramps every month?

The thought paled my face. I’d heard tales of girls curled up in agony for days.

As a former guy? I’d never grasped that pain.

Now I would.

Gritting my teeth, I showered through the ache.

I’d expected this. Just not so soon. Or so vicious.

The real problem hit me mid-rinse:

*What now?*

Clean pants would just get ruined again.

I don’t have that many pairs of underwear to change.

Just then, Yue Feather knocked on the bathroom door. He was probably worried—there’d been no sound from inside for a while.

“Silver Bell? How… are you holding up?”

“I’m fine…” I said, slightly drained. My whole body still felt weak; I had to lean on the wall to walk.

“Sick? Should I go buy medicine?”

“No… it’s not illness…”

“Good.”

“But…” I hesitated, then decided to ask Yue Feather for help. We were practically the same person anyway—no need to overthink it. “Um… could you grab something for me downstairs?”

“Sure. What do you need?” Yue Feather replied readily.

“San… san… sanitary… pads,” I stammered.

I’d been at least a thirty-year-old man before transmigrating, yet I was still incredibly embarrassed mentioning such feminine stuff.

“Huh?” And Yue Feather, being a virgin himself, flushed even deeper.