Lu Yu felt like he was losing his mind.
Just the sound of a woman’s voice now made him nauseous.
That piano teacher surnamed Gao chattered like a machine gun, nonstop right into his ear.
All traces of the elegance she’d once carefully crafted around him had vanished.
Her shrill, piercing shouts grated on his nerves.
Today, he truly experienced a music teacher’s soprano at full volume.
Calling her a furious shrew wouldn’t be an exaggeration. Even with three years of practiced “in-one-ear, out-the-other” filtering, he couldn’t withstand her verbal barrage.
What terrifying power.
Equivalent to ten homeroom teachers combined.
Rubbing his ears, Lu Yu’s mind ran bizarre calculations.
Though visibly annoyed and utterly reluctant, she was still a tutor—her job was to teach.
Under Lu Yu’s firm insistence, she grudgingly covered some basics.
His sole achievement? Hitting a few correct notes and playing a barely passable “Mary Had a Little Lamb.”
Compared to *Kikujiro*, his skill was kindergarten versus graduate school.
The hellish session finally ended after a full afternoon.
As class wrapped up, Ms. Gao told Lu Yu she wouldn’t report today’s incident to Madam Lin—*yet*.
She’d give him one more chance. Fail again, and she’d bring Madam Lin straight to the music room.
Basically, a parent-teacher summons.
For any student below university level, that phrase held absolute dread.
Of course, this leniency came only after Lu Yu’s repeated, docile pleading.
Had he not feared Lin Beixing would sob uncontrollably later, he’d never have bowed to this woman.
He’d have treated her like schoolteachers who scolded him—turning a deaf ear, offering no smile, no reply, letting every word vanish into silence.
But the thought of Lin Beixing crying made him grit his teeth and endure.
He’d promised her. Lu Yu had his principles.
“Phew… feels like I lost half my life.”
With the music lesson over and twenty minutes until dinner, Lu Yu allowed himself a brief rest.
He never wanted to face that woman again.
Given the choice, he’d take academic studying over music any day.
Compared to her, yesterday’s old lady—who loved dropping “in the future” every other sentence—was almost easy.
“When will this end…”
Staring at the ceiling of Lin Beixing’s bedroom, he sighed deeply.
He refused to stay trapped in this gilded cage.
Lin Beixing’s house swarmed with women—tutors, instructors, all difficult.
The only man around was likely the white-haired butler.
Lu Yu had never endured such injustice in his life.
He ached to escape this living hell…
*Tick-tock… tick-tock…*
Listening to the alarm clock on the nightstand, his eyelids grew heavy.
Its rhythm lulled him into deep sleep.
Approximately twenty minutes later—
*Thump. Thump.*
Two firm knocks echoed through the room.
“Mmm…”
The girl’s lashes trembled slightly. Her clear eyes slowly opened.
She couldn’t recall when she’d dozed off—probably while waiting for Lu Yu’s message, slumped on that stiff wooden bed.
Assuming a guest had arrived at Lu Yu’s place, Lin Beixing pushed herself up wearily.
Rubbing her eyes, her vision sharpened with returning awareness.
She saw her nightstand with the clock, the ornate crystal chandelier above, the tidy little desk Lu Yu had arranged.
Her hand stilled against her eyelids. Eyes widened.
She looked at her own hands again…
Smooth skin. Slender arms…
“Switched back…?”
Just like that?!
Lin Beixing patted her cheeks repeatedly to confirm she wasn’t dreaming.
The first swap lasted from noon to evening.
This one stretched two full days and a night!
No pattern. No trigger.
Every time the swap reversed, she felt like waking from a dream.
No wonder—this freedom to spend weekends as she pleased felt unreal to her now.
“Miss, dinner is ready.”
The butler’s voice called again from the hall.
Shaking off the daze, Lin Beixing replied smoothly, “Mm, coming.”
Had Lu Yu messed up?
She still had no idea how the afternoon went.
Not a single message from him…
Uncertainty tightened her chest. How would she face her mother at dinner?
She took a deep breath and rose from bed.
Some things had to be faced.
…
“I…”
“Damn.”
Lu Yu opened his eyes to his own ceiling.
Cobwebs around the bulb were gone—but this was unmistakably his room.
After two days away, tears of relief welled in his eyes.
He’d slept until dusk.
Clamor drifted up from the night snack shop downstairs. Exhausted, he dragged himself out of bed.
On the table sat half a box of Huoxiang Zhengqi Water—Lin Beixing had taken her medicine.
In the kitchen, meals wrapped in cling film waited on the stove.
Stacked porcelain plates held dishes he knew by heart—his mom’s classics, the food of his childhood.
Just looking made his stomach growl.
Ten minutes to reheat.
He carried the tray to his desk.
The moment his computer booted, Lu Yu felt reborn.
Compared to the past two days, he finally grasped how sweet freedom truly was.
Ten minutes picking a video. Five minutes to finish dinner.
The food vlogger was still describing dishes when his bowl emptied.
He checked in on all unopened games, then opened WeChat.
Ren Jie’s messages flooded in—wailing about rank losses, calling Lu Yu a heartless traitor.
Lu Yu washed his bowl first, then returned to his desk.
The downstairs noise swelled. Sleep was impossible.
Perfect. His battered spirit needed gaming therapy.
He typed, deleted, then voice-called Ren Jie.
Answered instantly. Sobbing, wailing, tears practically audible.
“Bro! You’re alive! I thought you’d collapsed dead at home! Waaah!!”
After a day of shrieking female voices, this deep, messy male cry sounded oddly comforting.
“Thanks for your concern,” Lu Yu said flatly.
He slipped on his headset. Mouse hovered over the game launch button.
“Log in. Now.”
“On it!!” Ren Jie’s energy surged back.
“Only Bro Lu stays up late to game with me…” He paused. “Wait—where were you all afternoon?”
Lu Yu finished logging in. Thought a beat.
“Arguing with an old hag.”
Ren Jie froze. “Huh???”
