My life has been a tragedy—at least, that’s how I see it.

After graduating high school and finishing compulsory education, I barely scraped together tuition for four years of college after leaving the orphanage. Just as I stepped into society and landed a decent job… I died.

They say some deaths weigh heavier than Mount Tai, others lighter than a feather. Mine? Definitely the feather kind—no dramatic heroics, no saving a little girl. Just a utterly hopeless, meaningless end.

Even the way I died was beyond saving.

On my bus ride back to the dorm after work, a chain-reaction collision and explosion erupted on the highway. Like any accident report, my death became just another statistic.

The only thing worth noting: when the car ahead exploded, I instinctively turned and threw myself over the girl sitting beside me, shielding her.

She was pure and adorable—probably high school age, maybe younger. Long, tassel-like hair framed a delicate, palm-sized face. Petite, fragile-looking, impossibly gentle.

She’d boarded with her parents; they sat one row ahead, while she settled right next to me.

At first, I thought, *Lucky day!*

Turns out, it was the unluckiest.

When the blast roared, seeing her so small and vulnerable, my brain short-circuited—I lunged.

Deep down, I knew: against that scale of chaos, I couldn’t save her… or myself. Just a futile attempt to make my death look *slightly* heroic.

But what did it matter? Dead is dead…

Wait.

If I’m dead… why am I *thinking* all this?

"Ow… it hurts!"

A voice like a skylark’s melody.

Was there another girl here saying the same thing?

No—that didn’t make sense. Bone conduction should’ve let me hear *my own* voice first.

I forced my eyes open. Long lashes, like tiny brushes, swept my vision clear.

Wait—since when did *I* have lashes this long?

Pretty eyelashes are a girl’s thing.

But I’m a guy!

Gasping for air, I took in the scene: pristine white ceiling, moon-pale sheets. The room was all white, with a faint antiseptic scent.

"In the hospital?" I realized instantly. "I’m not dead… Wait—*my voice!*"

That skylark-like tone came from *my* mouth.

Trembling, I pulled my hand from under the sheets.

Unnaturally pale skin. A thin IV needle piercing the back of a delicate, slender hand. Anyone would feel a pang seeing that.

No doubt about it—this wasn’t my hand.

What?! Car crash… died… soul jumped into someone else’s body? *A girl’s?!*

Heaven! A strapping guy like me turned into a girl—is this some cosmic joke?!

But… coming back to life *is* the joke. Honestly? Being alive is already a win. Don’t believe my earlier "philosophical" act—I’m barely twenty. Who *wouldn’t* want to live?

So… living as a girl?

Well. Better than nothing.

Trapped in bed, I lifted the blanket to inspect this body. Starting from the feet…

Hmm, translucent little toes…

Nah. Skip the feet. Don’t wanna feel like a creep.

Slender, fair, straight legs—definitely a great figure.

I glanced down: a softly curved waist.

But seeing *that* view straight down at ninety degrees…

I raised my free left hand to my collar and swallowed hard.

Glanced around. Empty room. Just me.

"It’s fine," I muttered. "I *am* her now. A quick peek… won’t hurt, right?"

Hoping to return to my old body? Slim chance. First, near-impossible. Second… who knows what’s left of *me* after the blast.

Internet slang puts it best: *I got blown to bits.*

Gently tugged the collar aside—

" Nope, nope!" I covered my nose with my right hand. "Too stimulating."

Modest, but a faint hint of budding curves—like a middle schooler just starting puberty.

Heh. Guess if I’m restarting life in this body, I’m reliving school days.

As for the original owner? Zero traces. No memories. Nothing.

Her departed soul left only this empty vessel.

"Alright. Calm down." I patted my cheeks.

*Whoa.* Silky smooth. Amazing texture.

"First: she’s likely high school age at most. Second: the accident injured her badly—badly enough her soul vanished, making space for me."

After piecing it together, I spotted a medical file on the bedside table.

Opened it.

*Su Xiaoxi. Age 19. Second-year student, School of Literature, Zhendong University.*

My face burned.

"Nineteen?! *This* body?! And… my junior?!"

I’d guessed middle school, maybe high school. College? Honestly, better—less student life to endure.

Too much repetition makes life tedious.

Zhendong University… familiar. *I* graduated from there.

This city sits dead-center on the Pacific Ring of Fire. Since last century, it’s endured constant quakes—claiming every domestic earthquake above magnitude 7. Hence the nickname: *The Epicenter.*

"Su Xiaoxi… such a childish name," I sighed. "No wonder she’s so petite—a cute girl who’s legally an adult."

Further down: *Victim of the Lakeview Overpass accident. Aboard bus 909 with parents. Admitted June 7th.*

A photo was attached.

My heart jolted.

*It was her.*

The very girl I shielded in my final moments.

"Is this… repayment?" I breathed slowly. "I saved her… and she gave me a second life."

Wait—no. If I *truly* saved her, her soul wouldn’t have vanished.

Still. From now on, I *am* Su Xiaoxi. As my thanks, I’ll live her life well.

Awkward being a girl? A little. But I’m *alive*. And she has parents—I’ll honor that duty.

*Ding-dong.*

The door opened. A doctor in a white coat entered with two nurses, faces brightening. "You’re awake."

"Mm." I gave a slight, grateful nod. "Um… what happened? Is anything wrong with my body?"

"During the crash, the young man beside you shielded you with his life. That’s why you have almost no external injuries."

The doctor probably thought I worried about scars. But my mind raced elsewhere—

"What about that… *young man?!*"