The strangely pitched “world-class vocal performance” lasted about half a minute.

After the bathroom fell silent, several minutes passed before the door finally creaked open from inside.

Shu Yuxin stood at the threshold, one hand braced against the frame, the other hovering lightly over her abdomen, her expression deeply grim.

Jiang Zixuan’s brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Told you… nothing,” Shu Yuxin muttered through gritted teeth, shuffling slowly toward the living room.

Her gait was stiff and unnatural—legs slightly splayed, each step hesitant. Her face twitched involuntarily from sharp pain.

Jiang Zixuan rushed to steady her. “Nothing?! You’re sweating with the AC at 17 degrees! Did you fall?”

Shu Yuxin paused, walked to the sofa, grabbed a pack of sanitary pads from the bag, and headed toward an empty bedroom. “…Seriously, it’s fine. I just had a brain fart. Borrowing the room.”

Only after she closed the bedroom door did Jiang Zixuan lower his gaze, eyes shadowed with quiet complexity.

He hesitated a few seconds, rubbed his nose, and stepped into the bathroom.

No damage visible. The toilet was refilling. Everything seemed normal.

His eyes swept the room and locked on the trash can beside the toilet. Since he’d just moved in, it held little toilet paper. What caught his attention wasn’t the paper—but a sanitary pad discarded dead center. Stained with dark crimson, slightly unsettling… and upon closer look, stuck with curly black hairs.

Instant understanding dawned.

She didn’t even know how to use a sanitary pad…

When Shu Yuxin emerged, she caught the faint pity in Jiang Zixuan’s eyes.

“Hurts, huh?” he asked.

She froze, then flushed.

“Didn’t stick it on backwards again, did you?” He paused, then added gently, “If you’re removing hair, there are painless ways. No need to torture yourself.”

“…Jiang Zixuan,” Shu Yuxin’s gaze drifted dangerously downward, “offering to share the pain?”

Jiang Zixuan leaped back. “Don’t! A kick to the groin hurts way more than ripped hair!”

Gritting her teeth, Shu Yuxin sank onto the sofa with a dark mutter: “Damn this sanitary pad.”

Behind her, Jiang Zixuan pinched his thigh hard to choke back an uncharitable laugh.

Thanks to that sobering pad, sleep was the last thing on Shu Yuxin’s mind. She sprawled across most of the sofa, forcing Jiang Zixuan to perch on the edge. “Play PS?”

“You play. I’ll watch.” She lifted her legs, slightly parted, tilting her head toward the TV.

She either didn’t notice how provocative the pose was—or simply didn’t care. Right now, the slightest touch down there sent jolts of pain; keeping her legs together was impossible.

Shu Yuxin had always feared pain. As a kid, the word “shot” would trigger full-blown tantrums—crying, fussing, threatening to run. To her, “real men don’t feel pain” was pure nonsense. If you could avoid pain, why endure it? (Masochists aside.) And anyway—she wasn’t “a man” anymore. Ripping off that pad had taken real grit. No way she’d suffer pointlessly for hollow dignity now.

Jiang Zixuan glanced over, breath hitching. “Uh… could you not spread your legs toward me?”

“Huh? Why? Getting… excited?”

“Obviously! I’m not gay!”

“Wait—you’re not gay, but you’re turned on by me? I used to be a guy!”

“But you’re a girl now!” He caught her foot hovering near his face. “If my willpower were weaker, I might’ve just pushed you down, you know?!”

Shu Yuxin smirked. “Hah. So you really wanna?”

He moved her foot aside, silent.

She tapped his shoulder with the other foot. “Shame. If I weren’t on my period, maybe I’d’ve given you a good time.”

“Stop… please,” Jiang Zixuan turned away, flustered, and powered on the PS. “Let’s just game. Seriously. Please.”

He admitted it—he’d felt a flicker of impulse. Her words were a joke. They both knew it. But knowing and feeling were different things.

Damn it. She was his best friend.

“What to play?” He sat back, controller in hand, voice carefully neutral.

“Whatever. I’m watching.”

He scrolled the menu and selected *Uncharted 4*.

They’d bought it together in sophomore year. Every night after study hall, they’d huddle on this very sofa—“one life each,” swapping when one died. They turned a AAA masterpiece into a nostalgic co-op session, laughing like fools.

The game followed two brothers on a treasure hunt, cinematic and sweeping. For ordinary guys like them, hero dreams lived only in pixels. They saw themselves in those brothers—except both insisted *they* were the younger one (car, house, wife), and the *other* was the broke, trouble-prone older brother.

Watching Jiang Zixuan play now, Shu Yuxin felt a quiet ache—nostalgia, maybe something more.

Time always flies when gaming.

She didn’t notice when the pain faded, or when she joined in. That afternoon, “one life each” felt like slipping back to high school—world narrowed to screen glow and shared joy.

When they finished the chapter, dusk painted the windows.

Shu Yuxin stretched. “Whoa—played the whole afternoon?”

“Time always flies when gaming,” Jiang Zixuan set the controller down. “Hungry? Grab dinner?”

She stood, stretched with a smile. “Nah. Heading back to the dorm. See you tomorrow.”

As she lifted the shopping bag from the coffee table, Jiang Zixuan called out: “Wait!”

“Hm?”

“…Why not move in here? Way comfier than your dorm.” He stood, facing her earnestly.

Shu Yuxin hesitated, then shook her head. “I’d love to… but you know my situation. Dad won’t cover it.”

“You don’t pay. I’ll handle rent.” He paused, then offered the plan he’d rehearsed: “I hate campus takeout. You cook me three meals a day—that’s your rent. Deal?”