Sitting on the bus bound for Shuigong Park, I stole another moment to skim online tutorials on vocal mimicry.

This was a field completely foreign to me.

Though my natural voice was already pleasant without training, my line of work—something between a companion streamer and live caster—demanded more than one vocal tone.

Mastering this took time; results wouldn’t show overnight.

“Vocal fry, nasal resonance, diaphragmatic breathing…”

“Ah… uh-oh, that doesn’t sound right.”

“Ptooey…”

The bus rumbled along the road while I practiced vocal exercises inside.

Luckily, past morning rush and before lunch break, the bus was nearly empty. My “odd” behavior went unnoticed.

“Hey beautiful, wanna hang out?”

“Name your price? Don’t give me that ‘flower badger cat’ talk—I just want one night. You know what I mean.”

“How far will you go? I’ll cover the flight.”

Whether those Rem photos went viral or something else happened, my QQ number got leaked. In just over an hour, bizarre friend requests flooded in—most blatantly suggestive.

Worse, the images got twisted. Many netizens now believed I was a “boy”—

“Big bro, wanna add me?”

“Your cross-dressing is fire! Accept me, I’ll tip you.”

“Came after hearing about you. Seriously committed? Did you take hormones?”

Reading these made my scalp prickle.

Puzzled, I reverse-searched the photos and found clickbait headlines:

*"A Poor Young Man Forced to Cross-Dress for Survival"*

*"Latest Rem Cosplay: So Gorgeous—But He’s a Boy?"*

*"Adorable Rem: Can You Spot His Male Features?"*

Comments piled up: “All cute ones are boys,” “What’s wrong with society?” “Gender doesn’t matter if cute,” “I’d still stan.” I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Nowadays, people prefer believing attractive cosplayers are boys. At conventions, the moment a cross-dresser appears, danmaku floods with “That’s a guy!” “Male!”—as if not typing it makes you outdated.

Clickbaiters churn these stories for clicks, leaving real girls helpless, unable to debunk rumors.

Truth is, unless on hormones since childhood, gender’s usually obvious. Male frames form an inverted triangle—broad shoulders; female frames taper downward. Even without body shape, hand bones, Adam’s apple, foot size give it away. Women’s shoes run 34–40; men’s 39–44. My size 32 (about 21 cm) is petite even for a girl. Those Rem maid shoes Wang Lei gave me looked tiny in photos—no average guy could fit.

I didn’t mind the rumors. If my photos brought joy in this chaotic world, fine. But constant harassing requests? Annoying.

Well… entertainment first. Understandable.

“Price? Two billion. Pay two billion Tianhuo Coins and I’ll go.”

“Farthest: the White House. Bro, think twice—I’m a guy, photos are edited.”

“Sorry, big bro, friend list full.”

After rejecting them all, I opened the Tianhuo Novel app.

Browsing days, I noticed: while harem fantasies, “son-in-law” tropes, and immortal cultivator novels trended, one category held surprising weight—

Transformation novels.

Male-to-female. Female-to-male.

Mirrored my situation… but tricky to write. Easy to cross the line. One misstep and the book vanishes for “inappropriate content.”

Maybe I’d try it later to ease finances. If not, fall back on overpowered son-in-law stories.

“Shuiming Park. Passengers alighting, please take belongings and exit rear door…”

Time flew reading. Off the bus, I did quick eye exercises, gazed into the distance, then searched “Leiming Pet Supplies” on my map.

Hmm… about 500 meters south of Shuiming Park. Close.

Following directions, I found “Mingda New City” residential complex, then a small pedestrian street with a shop sign: *Leiming Pet House*.

Adorably decorated—bows, cartoon pet stickers. Large glass front offered a clear view inside.

Two customers browsed cat litter; two staff chatted enthusiastically nearby. Glass enclosures held cats and dogs; shelves below stocked food, toys, cat trees.

“This imported tofu litter’s nearly dust-free with great odor control… just pricey.”

“For bigger spaces, I recommend bentonite. Cats love it—stops accidents, absorbs well. Downside? Dusty, and don’t flush it.”

I entered through the right glass door, unlatched the small metal pet gate.

“Ah… welcome!” A staff member turned. “How can I help?”

Simultaneously, the Siamese cat and Shiba Inu bounded over, rubbing against my Melulu flat round-toe shoes.

“Is your boss here?” I bent slightly to pat the Shiba’s head, glancing around.

“Uh…” The staff paused. “May I ask why?”

“Well… a small gift. We spoke on the phone earlier…”

“Xiao Xue?” Wang Lei popped his head from a nearby stall. “So soon?”

“Soon?” I walked over. “Only a thirty-minute ride.”

The stall resembled a restroom. Water splashed inside; heavy panting echoed.

“What are you doing?”

“Bathing the Husky.” Wang Lei looked sheepish. “Wait outside… chat with the pets. Ten minutes max.”

“Sure.”

I crouched by the left glass enclosure. An adult Ragdoll cat lay inside. Sensing me, it lazily opened its eyes, yawned, and drifted back to sleep.

From the stall:

“Alright, shampoo time… you—”

“Don’t bite! Not food!”

“Hey, stop licking! Is this how your owner taught you?”

“…”

Ten minutes later, a damp, disheveled Wang Lei emerged, leading a freshly blow-dried Husky.

“What’s the gift?” He tethered the dog, wiped hands on his apron. “Worth Miss Bi traveling all this way?” He leaned in, eyed the busy staff, pointed at my box. “You bought this?”

“I made it.” I handed it over. “For the clothes you gave me… never got to thank you properly.”

“Don’t be formal. Do I seem like I keep score? Those clothes weren’t selling—just gathering dust. If not you, I’d offload them to acquaintances.”

“What’s inside?”

“Open it.” I glanced around. “So this is the ‘million-yuan project’?”

“Ah… helping Brother Zhi test you back then. Misunderstanding. Haha. Total misunderstanding.”

He untied the ribbon.

“Whoa…” Eyes wide, he carefully lifted the miniature manor crafted from bamboo skewers. “Xiao Xue… you’re so skilled! You made this?”

“Boss, what’s that?” A male staff member approached. “So pretty! From your girlfriend? Where’d you get it?”

“She made it. Over 800 bamboo skewers.”

I smiled. “A return gift for the clothes… and thanks for back then.”

“You’re too polite.” Wang Lei’s face lit with delight. “Must’ve taken ages?”

Not really. Two hours daily in the dorm, listening to Chen Xiaorui’s gossip and dirty jokes, finished this morning.

“Mm…” I kept a shy smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

What I really meant:

“Boss, book me again when you’re free. New clients aren’t reliable—old friends are safer.”