I woke up from a nap to find morning had already arrived.

The house felt empty and silent—not a soul around. Minghai hadn’t been home in nearly three days, and Long Ge was out working her part-time shift today. For now, I was completely alone.

I made a pot of congee for breakfast, sat on the sofa, and ate it with pickled vegetables. I dumped the bowl into the sink—too lazy to wash it right after waking. *I’ll deal with it later*, I told myself.

Sitting there, my thoughts drifted back to the household registration mess. Like Han’s parents, mine have worked abroad for years. Our whole family lives in South Korea. Being ethnically Korean made emigration paperwork smoother. I heard life there is as high-pressure as Japan, but pays better. Back then—before global tensions flared—my parents left in the early 2000s. They’ve only returned twice since.

Han’s parents are in Canada, but her family’s wealthy. “Permanent business trips” at big corporations. Nothing like my situation.

Long Ge’s name is now on my family’s hukou, and my parents know nothing. Since they’re applying for permanent residency in South Korea using non-Chinese documents, we might keep it hidden another year… But when they come home for Chinese New Year and suddenly spot Long Ge’s name on the register—how do I explain? *“Oh, I got married. Forgot to mention it.”* Or, *“I’ll try hard to give you a chubby grandson next year!”*

When getting Long Ge an ID, I did consider a fake one. But fakes lack legitimacy—you can’t use them with peace of mind. Plus, Long Ge’s blunt and hot-tempered… There’s a real chance she gets into a fight, ends up at the police station, and they discover the fake ID—and worse, that she has no hukou at all. Like she appeared from thin air. Without valid ID versus using forged documents? Totally different severity. They’d ask: *“Why the fake ID? Where’s your hukou? Real name? On the run?”*

Ever since Long Ge became a woman, troubles keep piling up. Running errands nonstop. Sometimes I want to just give up—*whatever, deal with it yourself*. But then I picture her careless, indifferent face… and grit my teeth to get things done.

Now I’m almost too tired to even plan how to explain to my family.

They won’t be back for a year anyway. Cross that bridge when we come to it.

Dishes still sat in the sink. After watching TV all morning, boredom set in.

Worry about Long Ge nagged at me—I wanted to check the internet cafe where she works. But going alone felt weird, like I cared *too* much.

Since I had nothing else to do, I texted Shen: *“Wanna hang at the cafe today?”*

She replied fast and agreed easily. Come to think of it, aside from high school, we hadn’t hung out in ages.

I heard she’d been idle at home—accepted to university, but classes start in June. Just gaming all day.

We messaged on WeChat: KFC first for lunch, then the cafe. I grabbed 100 yuan, did a quick wash-up, threw on a shirt and coat, hailed a taxi downstairs, and headed straight to KFC.

Under fifteen minutes later, the taxi pulled up. I lit a cigarette, flicked the butt away—and another taxi stopped. Shen stepped out.

She nodded to the driver, handed a twenty, pocketed the change, and smiled. “You’re here fast.”

I smiled back. The pedestrian street wasn’t far.

We ate burgers at the same KFC. While eating, I glanced toward the counter—Xiaohua wasn’t there. Just as I guessed: probably only worked one substitute shift. Must be hunting other part-time gigs now.

Shen noticed me staring, chuckled, and took a bite. Even just sitting there eating a burger, college guys kept sneaking glances at her.

Shen rarely goes out, but she’s surprisingly stylish.

Oversized hoodie over a white long-sleeve shirt printed with English letters, denim shorts showing a sliver of fair leg, blue canvas shoes—bright, trendy, pure fashionable-girl vibes.

The other three? Still stuck in pre-transition styles.

Long Ge—if I hadn’t dragged her shopping, she’d still rock that tacky, outdated look. Chu usually wears just a shirt under a long trench coat. Han has taste but avoids feminine clothes; hoodies dominate her wardrobe.

We ordered colas, chatted awhile, then walked to Long Ge’s cafe—just steps from KFC. Inside, only half the computers were occupied despite the busy street outside.

“You… hello? Are you here to use a computer?”

A timid voice came from the side.

I turned. A girl stood behind the counter in the cafe’s black uniform, mop in hand, as if she’d rushed over mid-cleaning.

“I’m here to meet someone. Might log on later…”

Halfway through, recognition flickered. I looked closer—it was Xiaohua! A surprised “Huh?” slipped out.

Shen blinked. “So you’re working here now?”

Xiaohua’s eyes widened. “Xiao Ling! What brings you here?”

Shen pointed at me. “A friend works here. He was worried, so he dragged me along.”

Xiaohua glanced shyly at me. I smiled. “Yeah… a little worried. Um—is someone named Xiao Long working here?”

Xiaohua tilted her head, mop in hand. “You… you’re Xiao Long’s boyfriend?”

I shook my head with a wry smile.

Before I could answer, the smoking room door behind the counter opened.

Long Ge strolled out, blowing smoke sideways with lazy nonchalance, ambling toward us.

I studied her outfit: black uniform over a white shirt, short skirt, and the white thigh-high socks I’d bought her. Honestly? Pretty cute.

She kept her head down, glanced up—saw me—and froze.

I smiled and waved.

Her eyes darted away. She scratched her arm and shuffled slowly toward the counter.