Perhaps because it was downtown, even past eight PM, traffic still crawled under the rain—headlights glowing, cars inching forward. Feng Yijiu, however, strode proudly on her own two feet, effortlessly overtaking the stalled line.

*Beep*—a message lit up her screen from Feng Mingdong: “Raining there? Be careful. Text or call when you’re home.”

With nothing urgent, she slipped on her earphones and dialed back. The call connected instantly—no ringtone heard. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”

Hearing his daughter’s steady voice, Feng Mingdong’s worry finally settled. “Yijiu… why visit a classmate’s house tonight?”

“Oh, Li Hao’s mom invited me—to thank me for tutoring him, she said. But I don’t really buy it.” Feng Yijiu walked on, sneakers soaked, pace unhurried.

“I see,” Feng Mingdong replied, softening his tone. “Next time, tell Dad first, okay?”

Her brows twitched slightly. *Right… I’m still a minor. And… physically, I’m a girl now?* A faint smirk touched her lips. “Dad, you’re not worried I’d… *you know*? Impossible! He still thinks I’m a guy. We’re just classmates. I’m not marrying myself off—that’d make things harder, right?”

On the other end, Feng Mingdong’s lips twitched. He weakly covered his face.

Silence stretched. Feng Yijiu blinked. A trace of blush warmed her cheeks. “Uh… Dad, if that’s all, I’ll hang up. Still walking.”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat, flustered. “Dry your hair before sleeping.”

She ended the call. A cool, damp breeze brushed her face, calming the flush. Unaware, she’d just worn the look of a shy schoolgirl.

…

Meanwhile, Li Hao slumped back after finishing practice problems. He lifted the dried gardenia, bringing it slowly to his nose for a gentle sniff.

“Gou Gou, lend a hand!” Li Xun emerged from the bedroom, slightly flustered. He handed over a USB drive. “Your grade’s roster. Double-check blanks. Here’s the file.” He passed a thick folder. “Mostly clean—just scan for missing fields.”

Li Xun headed toward the guest room. Truth was, Dong Shu had drilled him to hint about Feng Yijiu’s gender. But to Li Xun? His son’s heart mattered more.

Li Hao opened the spreadsheet. A blank field caught his eye—Feng Yijiu’s mother’s contact. *Right… Dad said her mom passed when he was little.* He scanned further. Wait—why did it say “Female”?

A typo? He tilted his head. Sure, Feng Yijiu was stunning—almost unreal—but come on, he was her desk mate! *How could I not know?*

*Snap.* Smugly, he clicked the mouse. Changed it to “Male.”

“I’m just too thorough,” he chuckled, adjusting his non-existent glasses. Alerted by that “bug,” he checked meticulously—and found more errors.

“Dad, done!” He returned the drive and folder, beaming. Li Xun smiled warmly. *Some things between men need no words.*

*My boy takes after me—sharp as a tack.*

…

Back home, Feng Yijiu unlocked her door. “Phew. Backpack’s mostly dry.”

She peeled off soaked socks, rinsed her feet, and sank into the sofa, gaze drifting toward the ceiling.

“Me? Like Li Hao? What a joke.” She let out a soft laugh, recalling her dad’s anxious tone.

No way. Like Little Orange after *that procedure*—utterly carefree. Losing *that troublesome root* just made me… a laid-back, Buddha-like girl.

She glanced at Little Orange sprawled on the cat tree. Calm settled in her chest.

*Someday: a job I love, cats, plants, anime, games—I’ll have life figured out. Maybe flirt online. Way better than… you know.*

*Hmph.* Hands in pockets, she gazed down at the clueless cat with the air of a master swordsman.

“Orange-san,” she declared, lifting the hefty feline, “men only slow my sword-drawing speed!” She pinched its plump, defiant face, kneading gently.

Little Orange: ???

Playfulness took over. She pinned the cat against the wall, gazing into its amber eyes with dramatic tenderness. “Every time I see moonlight… I think of you.”

“Meow!” Fed up with its unhinged human, Little Orange puffed up, unleashed a flurry of impartial swipes, then sauntered toward its bowl with dignified strut.

Little Orange: *Class dismissed. You’re nothing.*