Though it was Sunday, for Feng Mingdong the day felt no different—he left home early for a morning meeting.

Feng Yijiu’s phone screen had lit up who knew how many times.

Sunlight slipped through the curtain gap, casting a sliver of warmth across the bed.

Her sleeping posture was frankly less than graceful: limbs stretched wide, head resting on the quilt instead of the pillow, which had somehow migrated beside her thigh.

Her lips parted slightly, a faint dried drool stain marking the quilt beneath.

The door clicked open. Cen Man entered with grocery bags, pausing at the messy scene. Amused, she checked her phone—nearly eleven.

“Come on, Yijiu, wake up. Lunch is almost ready.”

“Mmm…” Yijiu blinked groggily, vision still hazy. “Didn’t I set an alarm for eight-thirty?”

“Eight-thirty? It’s almost eleven,” Cen Man said, giving Yijiu’s perky butt a light tap. “Sun’s baking your behind.”

“Ah…” Yijiu sat up, morning grump fading as she glanced at her phone. “Damn. Who turned on Do Not Disturb?”

Beneath the missed alarm notification sat over a dozen WeChat messages from Li Hao—sent since last night.

*This kid’s about to snap*, she thought.

Sighing, Yijiu typed:

Feng: Deleted.

Feng: [Screenshot]

Feng patted Muzi, then knelt and called him “Dad.”

“So childish,” Yijiu muttered with a slight smirk. She switched apps, opened Photos, tapped “Recently Deleted,” and restored.

One-click triple combo—done.

After disabling Do Not Disturb, she flopped onto the bed, limbs feeling utterly boneless.

With effort, she hooked a foot on the curtain, tugged it open, and rolled over—back soaking in September’s gentle sun.

Perfect.

Drowsiness pulled her eyes shut again.

…

“Well, well,” Cen Man chuckled from the kitchen, glancing back at Yijiu dozing anew. “Adapting to girl life *awfully* fast, huh?”

“What? I… I’ve always slept in on Sundays!” Yijiu’s cheeks flushed slightly.

“Sleeping in is a girl’s prerogative,” Cen Man smiled, tapping Yijiu’s forehead.

“I… it was an accident! I *did* set the alarm!” Yijiu protested, fingers nervously twisting the sheets.

Cen Man just smiled.

“Up you get. Change. Weather’s lovely—if you’re free later, let’s take a walk?”

Rubbing her eyes, Yijiu nodded softly. “Mm.”

With Cen Man watching, swapping her tiny tank top for a Band-Aid-sized one was out of the question. Reluctantly, she changed into an androgynous top and jeans.

Yet even this couldn’t hide her soft femininity. The fabric hung loose below her waist, no longer hugging her slender curve.

“Try this,” Cen Man offered, producing a nearly identical top—tailored snug at the waist. It fit perfectly.

“Is this… women’s clothing?” Yijiu asked.

“Yes. But didn’t the last one feel… off?”

“I don’t care.” Yijiu glanced again, then stubbornly chose the first.

Before leaving, she spotted Little Orange basking on the windowsill, stretching lazily in the sun.

“Come here, you.”

She lifted him by the scruff. “Little Orange, time for exercise, okay?”

“Meow~!” Ignoring his indignant squirms and frantic protests, Yijiu grinned at Cen Man. “Manman jie, all set!”

Under Little Orange’s despairing gaze, the food bowl vanished behind the closing door. *Click.*

Cen Man shook her head. “That cat’s had eight lifetimes of bad luck ending up with you.”

“Hey! I *always* ask his opinion,” Yijiu retorted proudly. “Before the neutering, now for walks—he *always* says it’s ‘meow-rvelous’.”

“You little rascal.”

Since Yijiu was still a “patient,” they strolled only to the nearby riverside—shaded paths, benches, perfect for a gentle walk.

They hadn’t gone far when bicycle bells chimed.

“Afternoon, Yijiu!” Qingqing called from behind. Yijiu turned to see Qingqing and Zhou Wenyao on bikes.

“Auntie…” Qingqing hesitated, glancing at Cen Man.

“This is Manman jie,” Yijiu clarified quickly. Qingqing’s eyes had already locked onto the plump cat in Yijiu’s arms.

“Wow, yours?” She reached out to pet Little Orange.

“Yep. His name’s Little Orange.”

Even Zhou Wenyao leaned in, hand outstretched. “Can I hold him? He’s so sweet.”

“Go ahead,” Yijiu said magnanimously.

*Damn human! I only ate a *tiny* bit extra!* Little Orange’s paws clawed desperately at Yijiu’s top.

What evil schemes could a kitty possibly have?

No wardrobe malfunction—but the loose fabric revealed a flash of pure white beneath, unmistakable to the girls standing close.

“Ah…” Yijiu shivered, a blush creeping from neck to cheeks.

Qingqing subtly tugged Zhou Wenyao’s sleeve, eyes glinting with quiet triumph.

Yijiu ducked her head, certain her face burned crimson.