Chapter One: In the Blink of an Eye, I Became a Girl

“Wait, who is this girl???” Zhuang Xiaoyuan stared in shock at the reflection in the mirror, his mind a blank.

Standing quietly in the mirror was a petite young girl, one with a distinctly unique aura. Zhuang Xiaoyuan had seen this quality in many people before—a stark contrast to those whose beauty is only skin-deep, as often depicted on television or in movies. This was an aura honed by rigorous training and strict self-discipline, one that belonged exclusively to soldiers.

Though the girl boasted shoulder-length black hair, gentle brows, a pair of bright, ebony eyes, a straight nose, a charming little mouth, delicate skin, and a stature that likely did not even reach one meter sixty, her harmless appearance could not conceal the upright, commanding presence exuding from her as she stood before the mirror—a presence unmistakably imbued with the spirit of a soldier.

“Hold on, I need to calm down. Let me think, let me think. What was I doing before all this? Oh, right—I was writing a novel, had just drafted an outline, was working on character backgrounds, and then… then… Damn it, how am I supposed to stay calm? Why did working on character profiles result in me opening my eyes and turning into this?”

Desperately trying to steady his nerves and recall the preceding events, Zhuang Xiaoyuan suddenly grabbed the army-green pillow beside him and slammed it down on the bed, softening the meticulously folded bedding into a shapeless lump.

Yes, as a distinguished member of the twenty-first century species known as the “shut-in,” Zhuang Xiaoyuan had been sequestered at home writing novels. An ACG (anime, comic, game) enthusiast, addicted to manga, novels, and animation, he suffered from an acute case of “writer’s affliction”—an uncontrollable urge to write at any time. After idling away at work reading novels and flipping through comics, he returned home to roll around on his bed in boredom.

Before long, the writer’s urge struck with sudden force, compelling him to transmute the fantasies in his mind into words. He positioned himself at the computer, fingers clacking away at the keyboard. After drafting the world background and outline, he began working on character profiles. His eyes grew tired and sore, so he rubbed them—and when he opened them again, he found himself lying in bed.

A single wooden cot, army-green bedding and pillow, a cramped, unmistakably collective dormitory room. The room was sparsely furnished: a small desk beside the bed, a solitary wardrobe at the foot of the bed, a full-length mirror opposite, and, hanging by the window, a set of military uniform and underwear, already dry.

By the time Zhuang Xiaoyuan snapped out of his daze from surveying the room, he’d already made the bed out of habit and was now standing before the mirror. He realized that he’d somehow fallen asleep in his uniform under the bedding; though the edge of the jacket was slightly creased, it still failed to mask the striking aura of a soldier radiating from the girl.

“What on earth is going on?” Feeling a strange pressure in his head, Zhuang Xiaoyuan rubbed his temples and sat back down on the bed. To think that a modern shut-in like himself had become a girl, and awakened in a room he’d never seen before—there was no doubt about it. He didn’t need to pinch his thigh to know it wasn’t a dream; the dull ache in his head made that abundantly clear.

“Where did things go wrong? Have I really transmigrated? But does it have to be so abrupt? What the hell? Even though I don’t have much to tie me down, with my family all gone, the finale of the anime I’ve been following all month hasn’t even aired yet! And if I’m going to transmigrate, do I really need the bonus of a free gender reassignment surgery? Seriously, what’s happening? My head hurts more and more…”

Sitting on the wooden cot, Zhuang Xiaoyuan murmured to himself, grumbling under his breath as he held his head. The throbbing pain surged in ever greater waves, stabbing at his nerves.

“Ah…” With a crisp cry of agony, Zhuang Xiaoyuan finally succumbed to the overwhelming pain and lost consciousness.

In a pitch-black space, Zhuang Xiaoyuan curled up with his knees to his chest, slumbering like an infant in the darkness. Multicolored bubbles floated around him, each one drawn inexorably toward him by a mysterious force, merging into his sleeping form one by one.

Each bubble seemed to play out a vignette—a miniature film. Countless bubbles together formed the sum of a girl named Zhuang Xiaoyuan’s fifteen years of life. Every feeling—joy, delight, excitement, contentment, pain, sorrow, irritation, urgency—every memory hovered in this abyss, transformed into iridescent bubbles.

When every last bubble had merged into his body, the darkness was suddenly lit up. Zhuang Xiaoyuan, still asleep, opened his eyes in this illuminated space, and the scenes around him began to shift rapidly.

Forgotten infancy: an abandoned baby girl; a kindly young woman cradling a baby boy… Youth: a girl training and studying hard in an official institution; a boy misbehaving in school… Later, a girl eliminated in a talent test; a boy standing numb and dumbstruck upon hearing of his parents’ fatal car accident in middle school… Finally, a girl harvesting rice in the fields with a bright smile, bitten by a venomous snake that sprang from the grass; and a young man sitting at a computer, eyes red as he pounded frantically on the keyboard.

Ultimately, these two disparate strands merged: the baby girl was the baby boy, the boy was the girl. As if past and present lives entwined. I am Zhuang Xiaoyuan, once a shut-in young man, now a military orphan raised by the state. In this new world, I have only one identity: the uniformed girl, Zhuang Xiaoyuan.

With this realization and the fusion of memories from both boy and girl, the final scene faded as the newborn Zhuang Xiaoyuan slowly closed her eyes. On the other side, the girl lying on the bed slowly opened hers.

“You’re awake? Xiaoyuan, Xiaoyuan! You’re awake, Xiaoyuan—how do you feel? Is there anywhere that hurts?” As soon as she opened her eyes, still dazed, a rough and anxious voice sounded by her ear.

“Uncle Feng.” Hearing that familiar gruff voice, Zhuang Xiaoyuan immediately recognized the speaker—Feng Guoqing, leader of the logistics team she belonged to, who was like a father to her. Struggling to sit up, she blinked a few times until her vision cleared, and was greeted by the sight of Feng Guoqing’s weathered, square face.

“Xiaoyuan, you’re finally awake! You nearly scared your Uncle Feng to death. How many times have I told you, be careful during the autumn harvest—watch out for those reptiles getting ready to hibernate. But you, you just let my words go in one ear and out the other.” Seeing Zhuang Xiaoyuan awake, and confirming that all the toxins were gone and there were no aftereffects, Feng Guoqing at last began to nag her.

Just as Zhuang Xiaoyuan regarded Uncle Feng as a father in her heart, Feng Guoqing saw her as a daughter. She was the bright light that had pulled him out of the despair of losing his own daughter and his right hand.