Chapter 10: Costumes
Xiahou Ming didn’t sleep all night.
She leaned against the head of the bed, staring at the wet dark blue dress, dripping water in the dim morning light filtering through the window.
It was six in the morning, one hour before the morning reading class.
She stood up and took the skirt off the hanger.
The fabric was still half-dry, cold to the touch.
She carried it to the dusty Watson brand fan in her house and turned it on full speed.
The fan hummed, as if playing a dull elegy for her miserable situation.
A few minutes later, when the skirt stopped dripping but still felt damp, a more fundamental and humiliating problem confronted her.
Underwear.
She looked down at the two unfamiliar lumps of flesh on her chest.
She used to hide them under the pleats of the baggy boys’ school uniform.
But now, in this straight, figure-revealing dress…
She couldn’t imagine how grotesque those lumps would look without anything restraining them.
She sneaked into her mother’s room like a thief.
Opening her mother’s closet, she saw faded old clothes and a stack of her mother’s underwear.
The style was outdated, the color yellowed.
She reached out, but just before her fingers touched the cotton fabric, she froze.
No.
She couldn’t do it.
Wearing a stolen dress was already her limit.
To wear her mother’s underwear…
A wave of nausea hit her.
…Who cares?
She gave up, deciding to wear the dress as is.
Covering it with the oversized boys’ school uniform jacket should… hide it, right?
It was the only comfort she could muster.
Back in her room, she peeled off her sweaty T-shirt and, closing her eyes as if facing execution, slipped into the half-dry, cold dress.
The fabric felt alien against her skin.
The absence of pants and the emptiness between her legs made her uneasy.
She opened her eyes and stood before the mirror.
A girl in a dark blue straight-tube sundress stared back.
Her hair was disheveled from the sleepless night, her face pale, her eyes numb.
She pulled on the boys’ school uniform jacket with frayed cuffs.
The loose jacket somewhat concealed the outline of her body she didn’t want seen.
The skirt’s hem peeked out from under the jacket, dark blue clashing with the blue-and-white uniform, creating an oddly harmonious visual discord.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
This was the first time she truly saw herself in a fully feminine outfit.
What does “good-looking” mean?
Yu Yuhui’s calm face flashed in her mind.
The skirt itself?
Or… me in the skirt?
She stared at the pretty face in the mirror, the one she hated daily.
But in this moment, under the dim morning light and the dark blue dress, she had to admit a fact that disgusted and horrified her.
This face, as a “girl’s” face, wasn’t… ugly.
Am I…
Drawn by something, she tentatively turned in front of the mirror.
The skirt’s hem lifted slightly with her movement, brushing her calves.
…good-looking?
…
Fck!
She punched the wall, a dull “bang” echoing.
What the hell am I thinking?
She growled at the mirror, the girl staring back with fear and anger.
Am I feeling sorry for myself like a real girl just to complete that monster’s mission?
To win her approval, am I wondering if I look good?
This realization terrified and humiliated her more than the act of stealing.
This was a deeper shedding, starting from her spirit.
The hard shell of “Xiahou Ming” was being stripped away, revealing a soft, unfamiliar skin beneath.
She slid down the wall to the floor.
She didn’t have the energy to change back into her old clothes.
She knew there was no other choice.
Taking a deep breath, she avoided the mirror, opened the door, and stepped into the morning light.
A humiliating day had begun.
On the way to school, she felt like a naked clown.
The morning breeze slipped under her skirt, caressing her inner thighs.
The unfamiliar, unrestrained coolness made every step uncomfortable.
She instinctively tried to close her legs, but that felt too feminine, so she maintained an awkward, half-stepped gait.
Passing the breakfast stalls at the vegetable market, women buying groceries and workers eating breakfast glanced her way.
She couldn’t read their looks.
Curiosity?
Scrutiny?
Or just eyeing a decent-looking girl?
She didn’t dare guess.
She lowered her head, letting her long hair cover her face, quickening her pace to escape their gazes like a criminal.
For the first time, the distance from home to school felt endless.
When she reached the door of Class 2-3, she stopped, palms sweaty.
She arrived early, sleepless and unaware of the exact time.
The classroom was quiet, with only a few people inside.
The class monitor was scribbling in his exercise book, and… Ling Yicai was in the front row, murmuring English vocabulary from a handbook.
Xiahou Ming stood at the door, hand on the knob, hesitating to push it open.
The rustle of turning pages echoed inside.
She knew that once she opened this door, there was no turning back from this humiliating “performance.”
Ling Yicai looked up, sensing movement.
Her gaze crossed rows of desks, through the corridor windows, and met Xiahou Ming’s eyes.
Seeing her outfit, those gentle, smiling eyes froze in shock, astonishment, and… heartache.
Xiahou Ming felt shame under that gaze.
Taking a deep breath, her eyes turned numb and resolute, and she pushed open the classroom door.