A hotel near the school.
An Han swiped the key card to open the room with a king-size bed, delivery bag in hand, face etched with utter despair.
He turned back, heart still pounding anxiously. “You’re not gonna screw me over, right?”
“Like, the second I put these on, you’ll start snapping photos like crazy?”
Wu Dongming, standing behind him, shook his head hard. “No way! I’d never betray a friend!”
“Heh. Sure I do.”
During gaming sessions, they’d scheme over a single kill or minion. An Han trusted none of Wu Dongming’s words.
“How about you go first?” An Han asked tentatively. “You wear it, then I follow?”
“Dude, you’ve screwed me over way more! Why would I trust *you*?” Wu Dongming turned away.
They froze at the doorway, neither backing down.
Wu Dongming finally threw his hands up. “Fine! I’m out. Screw this cross-dressing nonsense!”
“Wait!”
An Han grabbed his arm. “I’ll do it! I’m changing *now*!”
What kind of ridiculous quest was this?
Sacrificing himself just to complete it?
*If it weren’t for that apartment…* he cursed inwardly.
Scrolling cross-dressing memes online was fun—but nobody wanted to *be* the meme.
He stepped in, scanned the room, plopped onto the bed edge, and tore open the delivery bag.
Moments later, the full women’s set—worth hundreds—lay neatly spread on the bed.
“Huh, quality’s not bad,” Wu Dongming remarked. “Thought you’d buy some twenty-buck junk.”
*Of course I’d spend for that apartment!*
An Han took a deep breath. “You wait. Don’t run.”
“Relax!” Wu Dongming patted his chest. “When have I lied to you, bro?”
“Last time you skipped roll call for me—I got marked absent!”
“Special circumstance!” Wu Dongming grinned cheekily, handing over the outfit. “After you.”
An Han snatched it with disdain. “Look at you—so tough. When *you* cross-dress, you make excuses. Not manly at all. Zero decisiveness.”
“Watch me. Clean and quick.”
“Since when does cross-dressing relate to manliness?”
“If you run, I’ll chase you to the dorm and stuff you in this myself!”
Wu Dongming feigned terror. “Won’t run! Promise!”
“Tch.” An Han strode into the bathroom, then backed out.
“Scared?” Wu Dongming crossed arms, smirking. “If you are, just repackage and return it.”
“No—it’s tiny.”
An Han muttered, peering in.
Barely six square meters: squat toilet, sink, nothing else.
Floor clean, but smaller than his dorm bathroom. Arms outstretched could touch both walls—nowhere for clothes.
“Hold these.”
Without hesitation, he shoved the outfit into Wu Dongming’s hands and reentered.
Wu Dongming watched suspiciously. The door cracked open—a sliver—and An Han’s shirt and pants flew out.
“Whoa?! You’re *actually* doing it?!”
Stunned, he muttered, “It’s just cross-dressing… what’s the big deal?”
He’d expected An Han to chicken out. This? Dead serious.
“Hand it over.”
An Han’s hand reached out. “Don’t run. You can run from the monk, but not the temple.”
“Wait—you secretly cross-dress often?”
“No way! Do I look like a pervert?”
“Yes.”
“Just give it! You chickening out?”
Wu Dongming stared at the clothes, hesitating.
Hand them over? He’d be next. Refuse? Two weeks of teasing.
His eyes dropped to the tossed clothes.
“Here.”
“The wig. Stockings. Shoes.”
“Will it even fit you?”
From inside: “Size 170. I’ll barely squeeze in. You? Ten pounds heavier—good luck.”
“Exactly! If it won’t fit me, why force it?”
“Wear it anyway! Stop making excuses, man!”
An Han cursed softly, focusing on dressing.
The outfit wasn’t revealing. Skirt length showed only a sliver of thigh—no flash risk.
First time with thigh-highs: rolled like socks, slipped on, pulled tight. But with this skirt? No hint of that “absolute territory” gap.
Wig on. Phone up. Selfie check.
“Hmm… not great.”
Wig messy, unkempt. But his slender frame made the clothes fit surprisingly well—flat-chested, flat-backed, front and back indistinguishable.
Whatever. Only Wu Dongming would see.
For that apartment? Worth lowering his dignity.
“Dongming! Ready!”
He called out, “Brace yourself! Don’t fall for me!”
Patted the skirt, stepped toward the door—then froze.
Stockings had slipped…
Ignoring the bunched fabric at his knees, he opened the door.
Room empty.
“Dongming?”
“Wu Dongming? Stop hiding.”
An Han chuckled. “You can hide today, but not forever. In this tiny room?”
“Under the bed?”
“Is he—”
As he bent to look, his heart hammered. Sweat beaded his palms.
“My… changed clothes? Where are they?”
“Dongming?”
“DONGMING?!”
Panicked, he scoured every corner. No Wu Dongming. No clothes.
“WHAT THE HELL, WU DONGMING?! RUN?! BUT TAKE MY CLOTHES TOO?!”
“HAVE SOME DECENCY!”
