Feng Yijiu had no idea she’d become the so-called “gardenia girl” in others’ eyes. Right now, she was simply packing her things—after all, discharge was just around the corner.
Glancing at the casual clothes Sister Cen Man had bought her over the past few days, Feng Yijiu took a deep breath and carefully placed them into her bag.
“Come visit your sister anytime!” Cen Man said, her voice tinged with reluctance.
Just then, Feng Yijiu spotted Feng Mingdong waiting nearby in plain clothes. After bidding Cen Man farewell, she walked quietly toward him. Dressed in neutral-toned trousers and a dark top, she still looked more like a boy.
“Yijiu…” Feng Mingdong took her bag, his mouth parting slightly, words failing him for a moment.
“Let’s talk at home,” Feng Yijiu murmured, biting her lip.
Today, Feng Mingdong had driven alone—no driver, no assistant. Only father and daughter sat in the car, wrapped in an eerie silence.
Feeling slightly guilty, Feng Yijiu turned on the radio. Coincidentally, it was playing an Earth song—or rather, one credited to Li Yu, the online alias “Porter.”
...
She has found you go and get her
Remember to let her into your heart
Then you can start to make in better
...
The deep, magnetic voice filled the cabin. Feng Yijiu glanced at Feng Mingdong beside her—the lyrics felt oddly fitting.
As the melody continued, she gradually relaxed, her gaze drifting absently out the window.
“What would you like for dinner?” Feng Mingdong finally broke the silence.
“Anything’s fine,” she replied casually. After a pause, she asked softly, “How many people know about… my situation?”
“Very few,” Feng Mingdong shook his head, eyes fixed on the road.
Feng Yijiu let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry,” he added suddenly, still watching the road.
She fell silent. Sensing her father’s low spirits, she thought a moment before saying, “It’s okay. If I were you, I’d have done the same.”
His breathing grew slightly heavier. He opened his mouth, then closed it.
He glanced sideways at her profile—so strikingly similar to Manzhi’s—and felt a sting in his nose.
“Dad, I want to switch high schools. Somewhere no one knows me.” Feng Yijiu hesitated. “And… if I can’t accept men later… please don’t blame me.”
“As long as you’re happy,” he replied instinctively, then quickly added, “Dad supports your decision.”
“Unconditionally,” he emphasized. “I’ll start the transfer process right after dinner tonight.”
Hearing this, Feng Yijiu relaxed. Truth was, she wasn’t worried about awkward encounters—she feared meeting people who knew *her*, while she remembered nothing. Cutting ties with her past felt right.
“Oh, by the way,” Feng Mingdong recalled, “I have a good friend at Boya Middle School. I’ll ask him right away.”
...
Meanwhile, Li Hao—though he called himself Gou Gou—stared absently at the slightly wilted gardenia in his hand.
“Gou Gou, join Dad for dinner tonight?” Li Xun called from the other room. “It’s with Uncle Feng. He’s impressive—you could learn a lot. They’ve got a kid your age too…”
Li Hao carefully pressed the flower between dictionary pages. He had zero interest in “Uncle Feng.” Would going even let him see *her*?
“No thanks, Dad. I’ve got plans with classmates. Oh—and I already told Mom I’m visiting her at the hospital tomorrow.”
“Alright,” Li Xun sighed, a hint of regret in his voice. He was successful, yes, but nowhere near Feng Mingdong’s level. Not every dinner was fit for “networking.” “Handle dinner yourself tonight.”
After the front door clicked shut, Li Hao pulled out an A4 sheet and began sketching from memory: long hair, big eyes, a white dress…
*Phew. What would I have even said yesterday? Scared her? What could I talk about?*
*Me—a slacker who only got into Boya because Dad’s on the school board. Even with decent looks, would she think I’m just a pretty-faced flirt?*
Restless, he opened his gaming console—er, computer—and tapped his pen, drafting lines for tomorrow. Then panic hit: *My chicken-scratch handwriting!*
*Forget it. Memorize it. And tomorrow—get her contact info.* He steeled himself.
...
“Dad, pull over. I need a haircut,” Feng Yijiu said, spotting a barbershop with time before dinner.
Feng Mingdong’s reply was a WeChat transfer notification.
She blinked, then stepped out.
Inside the car, Feng Mingdong closed WeChat. His wallpaper glowed: a graceful silhouette in pure white before a gardenia bush, a single bloom tucked playfully into her hair.
“Hello… here for a haircut?”
“Yes. Shorter, please.” Feng Yijiu pointed at a poster. “Like this—short layered cut. Sunny. Handsome.”
“Huh?” The barber blinked. *Unless my eyes are failing… she’s a girl? But “handsome”?*
“I’m a guy,” Feng Yijiu said without batting an eye.
“What?!” Utterly baffled—*cross-dresser?*—he shrugged. Customer’s customer. Scissors in hand, he went to work.
When finished, he stared. *Huh… she really does look like a boy.* *Sigh. What’s with kids these days?* For the first time, his sense of gender wavered. *Do hairstyles really define it?*
Feng Yijiu studied her reflection: short layered cut, sides tapered, face slightly broader. Fair skin aside, genuinely handsome—enough that a few female customers glanced her way in the mirror.
“Perfect.” Mood lifted, she flipped her hair with a playful flick and stepped out. *Hmph. Does getting “disarmed” really depend on how handsome I am?*
