Her daughter had changed back into feminine attire, no longer running from her true self.
She’d even brought the boy she liked home.
Two joyful moments overlapped.
It should’ve been…
No—make it three!
The instant Wen Tinghan’s mother pushed the door open, she clutched her chest.
Otherwise, she feared she might faint from sheer excitement.
Her own daughter… actually with the boy she liked… in… in…!
“Y-you two, carry on! I-I-I saw nothing!”
The third joy: her daughter had reached *this* stage with the one she loved…!!
If two joys overlapping could spell tragedy…
then three? No one could resist this blissful cascade!
*Bang!*
She slammed the door shut, basket in hand, humming happily as she headed to the kitchen.
Truly, Wen Tinghan’s “gender dysphoria” had reshaped their family in countless ways.
Seeing her daughter bring home her crush—and witnessing them cuddled like lovers—
Wen Tinghan’s mother felt thrilled, not furious. How utterly unreasonable!
Shouldn’t she have grabbed a feather duster to break Gu Chuan’s legs?
Instead, she was already planning a nourishing free-range chicken soup for him.
Inside the room, Gu Chuan and Wen Tinghan remained frozen in shock.
They stayed locked in that intimate pose:
Gu Chuan above, Wen Tinghan beneath.
She instinctively parted her legs just slightly—a reflex, no thought involved.
As if her body silently whispered: *If it’s him… it’s okay.*
Beneath the pristine white skirt hem, faint blue-and-white stripes peeked through.
Wen Tinghan’s cheeks burned crimson from racing pulse and flushed blood.
“S-sorry!” Gu Chuan stammered—the one apologizing.
He’d forgotten: *she* had grabbed his hand.
*She* had leaned back, tumbling onto the bed.
That’s how they ended up like this.
But “pushed down” was still “pushed down.” Reality didn’t care about intent.
He stood, then gently pulled the trembling Wen Tinghan upright.
She covered her face, eyes shimmering through her fingers—clear, vulnerable.
Her short hair framed her face, lovely as a night sprite.
“N-no… it’s my fault. G-Gu Chuan… you won’t hate me, will you…?”
Calm now, Wen Tinghan realized how shamelessly forward she’d been.
*As a girl… to act like that…*
Not that girls couldn’t take initiative—but the old Wen Tinghan never would’ve imagined it.
After healing through Gu Chuan, fully embracing “girlhood,”
her transformation was total. A full 180.
Fast-forward straight to *wanting his children*.
No more gender confusion.
Gu Chuan scratched his burning cheeks. “H-how? You just tripped over the bed, right?”
His words were perfectly timed—like offering a pillow to a sleepy head.
“Y-yes! Exactly!” Wen Tinghan seized the excuse, head bowed, shoulders trembling slightly.
Yet the unspoken understanding only deepened the awkwardness.
*Wait… Wen Tinghan’s a guy. Why’s my face so hot?*
Like he’d really “pushed down” a girl.
Moments ago, seeing her delicate, yielding expression… a sinful heat flared low in his gut.
Then Wen Tinghan’s mom burst in—seemingly ill-timed, yet perfectly so.
Like cold water dousing the flame.
*Otherwise… I might’ve…*
Brotherhood gone. Friendship shattered.
And now—something felt off.
Her mom had *seen* them in that compromising pose…
yet her tone sounded… weirdly happy?
This family’s acceptance of their “son” in dresses felt surreal.
*Enlightened parents?* Gu Chuan felt a quiet pang of envy.
Thankfully, Zai Zai’s sudden arrival broke the tension.
The cat blinked in confusion: *I just strolled into my owner’s cozy room—why am I being cuddled?!*
…Though it *was* kinda nice.
Only when Gu Chuan touched his tail base did Zai Zai protest with an indignant “Meow!”
“Zai Zai doesn’t like his tail petted,” Wen Tinghan murmured, smiling softly for the first time.
“My cat’s tail’s fair game,” Gu Chuan said proudly, thinking of Xuechun.
“That means she trusts you completely. You’re her most cherished person.”
“And… Gu Chuan is so gentle…”
“Gentle… huh.”
His gaze drifted far away.
After a pause, he turned back with a wry smile.
“Tinghan… do you have someone you like?”
Whether from his own wandering thoughts or the classic “crush talk” moment between friends—
the question hung in the air.
And in Wen Tinghan’s heart?
A single, thunderous *thump*.
