An Han’s premonition was right.
Once his physique attributes maxed out, even if his cross-dressing got exposed, he wouldn’t have to fear Long Xing beating him up.
Admirers might not break down the door, but they’d definitely come in a steady stream.
Yet he felt not a hint of joy.
“I *knew* this system was messed up…”
“What system pushes a guy to seduce other guys?”
“What system remodels a man into a girl?”
“Are you freaking insane?!”
Muffled sobs shook under the blanket—An Han nearly burst into tears.
So tragic.
His fingers brushed the tiny buns that had sprouted overnight on his chest. Tears welled, but none fell.
At first, he dreamed the system would make him the world’s richest man effortlessly. Then he realized: tasks too hard, side effects too severe. Don’t aim too high—just max the attributes first…
Little did he know, the attributes were a deeper trap.
“So… physique = girl’s physique. Face = girl’s face. Charm… must attract boys.”
What *kind* of system was this?
“Xiao Han, time to get up for class.”
As usual, Long Xing rose first. After washing up, he padded to An Han’s bed and patted the quilt. “Hurry up, or you’ll be late.”
A moment later, a tousled head peeked out. Red-rimmed eyes stared up at Long Xing.
“What’s wrong?” Long Xing blinked.
“Stayed up late…” An Han yawned, stretching lazily. “Cover my roll call. I’m skipping morning class.”
“Can’t. It’s *that* professor’s major class—you know how he is.”
An Han sighed, utterly hopeless.
That professor only took attendance twice a semester. Miss either? Fail. Wait for next semester’s makeup.
“Then ask the instructor for leave.”
“You need the instructor’s approval.”
Today, An Han’s brow held a fragile gloom. Dark eyes shimmered with unshed tears; flushed rims lent a poignant softness. Long Xing’s protective instinct flared.
He hesitated. “Want me to ask the instructor first? If it fails, you go yourself.”
An Han nodded listlessly.
He didn’t *want* to skip class. But the steamed buns on his chest—and those two stubborn points—were too obvious. He wouldn’t gamble his roommates were blind. Or face the whole class staring.
Even if they were pathetically small… he still chickened out.
“On your period?” Chen Junjie, now lacing his shoes, smirked. “Need me to grab brown sugar water?”
“GET LOST!” An Han snapped.
Before, “girly” or “period” jokes rolled off him. Now? They *hit*. Like stabbing his rawest nerve.
He yanked the blanket over his head, muttering curses, sighing into despair.
Ten minutes passed. The dorm fell silent.
“Xiao Han… really not going?”
“Nah.”
The door clicked shut. Silence. Then—An Han sprang up, locked the door, and faced the mirror, frowning.
Last time, the physique boost made him rounder, softer—healthier than his old beanpole frame. Weight unchanged.
This time? Chest curved. Waist slender. Fat redistributed femininely. Hips visibly wider, fuller.
No more fitted clothes.
Why did he look *smaller* now? He used to seem skinnier…
“Bone structure?”
He stripped bare, inspecting silently. Then redressed.
This body… like a girl in early puberty.
Not just fat—bones looked delicate. Hips wider. Even pressed tight, thighs left a tempting gap.
His old bold boasts? Gone. He slumped into a chair, face blank with despair.
“What do I do now?”
Winter would’ve helped. But short sleeves? No hiding the steamed buns.
His phone vibrated. A voice message from Long Xing:
“Instructor says: go to infirmary, get a note, then his office.”
“That teacher already took roll! Come now’s useless—hurry get the slip to clear absence!”
Long Xing’s voice crackled with panic—afraid one skip meant failure.
“Of course… what I feared most…”
He couldn’t step out. Terrified someone’d spot the mismatch: a boy’s face… a girl’s body.
Actually… the face wasn’t very boyish anymore.
An Han craned toward the mirror, nose nearly touching glass.
Appearance boost: eyes larger, upturned tails—fox-like, alluring. Lips pearl-soft, delicately shaped. Cheeks flushed pink, porcelain-smooth. A faint smile revealed two tiny dimples…
Physique softened his jawline. With appearance layered on? Softer lines—and no one would guess he was male.
“So… girly. Why did I ever think I was handsome?”
He pulled on an autumn denim jacket.
Class was lost. Had to beg leave.
Outside: 35°C. Jacket on? He looked insane.
“Damn system—ruining my youth!”
He kicked the door open mid-curse, wrestling the jacket on—
—and froze.
The instructor stood there, hand raised to knock, jaw slack, staring at An Han’s “energetic” state.
“…”
An Han stiffened. Eyes met. Silence.
Then—hands clutching stomach, lip bitten, gaze lowered—he whispered weakly: “Teacher… you came? I was just heading to find you.”
He forced an awkward, polite smile… and glanced down at his protruding chest.
“…”
