Chapter 5: Normal and Abnormal

Nanbo City, Lu Family Villa.

A graceful figure stormed into the empty villa like a whirlwind, collapsing heavily onto the sofa.

The cushions quaked, startling a petite female cat, who let out a surprised meow and darted to the corner of the living room, tail raised.

Lu Qingqi sank into the sofa, staring at the crystal chandelier overhead, lost in thought.

The familiar warmth of home enveloped her, slowly easing the chaos in her heart.

She spread her palm, gazing at her hand—slender, pale, with a faint pink at the fingertips, knuckles so smooth they were barely visible, like polished warm jade.

This hand could star in a hand-fetish enthusiast’s dreams or belong to a 2D anime heroine, drawing hordes of admirers, maybe even winning a hand-model contest.

But it shouldn’t be on a man, least of all Lu Qingqi.

“What the f*ck?”

“My gender changed?” The girl frowned, her fingertips tracing the delicate lines of her palm.

As the initial panic faded, she calmed down, piecing her thoughts together.

She was a veteran novel fan, used to protagonists with wild starts—gender swaps were no big deal.

A Pineapple Bun member like her could stay cool even locked in a dark room!

It’s just a gender change, a minor hiccup. At least she could revert. It wasn’t like being caged by a yandere from the start—not that bad.

“But I used my gender-swap ability on Liu Wangjiang. Why didn’t he react?”

“Everyone else I hit changed. Is he immune or something?”

The short-haired girl shook her head fiercely, hair brushing her cheeks. “No way, absolutely not!”

“I’m the Chosen One. My ability was supposed to ‘prank Liu Wangjiang.’ If I can’t mess with him, what’s the point of this power?”

“Unless the ‘old sage’ who gave me this golden finger is screwing with me, or I messed up using it.”

She mulled it over but came up blank. Her stomach growled at the worst moment.

Lu Qingqi hopped off the sofa, shuffled to the kitchen in slippers, grabbed some snacks, and shoved them in her mouth.

While chewing, she caught her reflection in the glass door—soft short hair clinging to her ears, a face as smooth as a peeled egg, a few inches shorter than before. Her bulky jacket hid her figure, but the obvious chest bulge still made her head spin.

“Big-breasted short-haired girl.” She smirked. “A bit shorter, and I’d be a big-breasted loli. Kinda awkward, but these boobs… not really my thing.”

Only Lu Qingqi could judge her new look with such a flat, almost mocking tone.

“Change back.”

A clear female voice rang out.

The next second, her body shivered slightly, and she was a boy again.

Lu Qingqi patted his now-flat chest, glancing at the reflection in the glass—familiar features, neat short hair. He grinned. “Knew I could change back. Not some Pineapple Bun tragedy where you’re stuck forever.”

Finishing the snacks, he stepped out of the kitchen. His phone on the coffee table buzzed relentlessly. The screen flashed “Girlfriend.”

Lu Qingqi hit answer, and Yuki Shirahara’s cool but concerned voice came through. “Qingqi, what happened today? Didn’t we plan to have dinner after the exhibition?”

The boy’s smile froze.

Oh no, his girlfriend was holding him accountable.

Tell the truth?

Admit that while she was at the exhibition, he stalked Liu Wangjiang, tried to prank him with a gender-swap, only for it to backfire, turning him into a girl, getting caught by Liu, and fleeing in a panic?

Way too humiliating!

“Uh… Xue’er, something urgent came up, so I headed back early.” Lu Qingqi opted for a white lie, then quickly added, “Hey, didn’t you want that Telfar bag a while back? How about I get it for you?”

“No need.” Yuki Shirahara’s voice softened on the other end. “I’m not with you for money.”

“By the way,” she shifted topics casually, “have you been drinking that oatmeal I got you a few months ago on time?”

“Yep, every morning, a bowl of oatmeal,” Lu Qingqi said, scratching his head with a grin. “Weird thing is, since drinking it, I feel like my skin’s gotten whiter, younger-looking. I’m home gaming all day, but no weight gain. I’m in great shape!”

“Good. Let me know when you run out, and I’ll get more.”

Meanwhile, at the Liu Family estate.

The window was half-open, casting dim light over the living room. The air felt stagnant, heavy with an unspoken oppression.

A tall, lean man sat on the main sofa, eyes half-closed. A Bluetooth earpiece rested against his ear, his fingertips tapping his knee rhythmically, as if listening intently.

After a moment, he removed the earpiece and looked at the two guests across from him.

On the left, a young man in his twenties wore a white clinic coat, looking slight. Gold-rimmed glasses framed his gentle eyes, giving him a scholarly air. One glance, and you’d peg him as a doctor.

Beside him sat a little boy in a large blue-and-white baseball cap and robe. Though he sat properly, his orange eyes darted around, curiously scanning the room.

“You’re the psychologist my parents hired?” Liu Wangjiang’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

“Yes, Mr. Liu. Your parents brought me in. Allow me to introduce myself—my surname is Zhang, name Jun…” Zhang Junfang adjusted his glasses, his mild voice cut off by Liu Wangjiang.

“Zhang Junfang, renowned psychiatrist. The Xu and Qin families have mentioned you.”

As Zhang Junfang started to smile, flattered, Liu Wangjiang continued, “After all, the circle of families tied to the first Huayuan Federation Speaker is small. Everyone knows everyone.”

His fingers paused on his knee, his tone still even. “But I’m not sick. You can leave.”

“Mr. Liu,” Zhang Junfang didn’t budge. He pulled a document from his briefcase and slid it across the coffee table. “Your parents provided your recent psychological evaluation. The data indicates serious issues.”

At that, Liu Wangjiang’s calm cracked. He chuckled softly, the sound spreading through the dim room, laced with faint mockery.

“Normal? Who decides what’s normal?”

“If this is an illness, maybe you should check my father. He’s sicker than I am.”

After dismissing the two, Liu Wangjiang headed to his bedroom, pushing the door open. It closed silently behind him.

The bedroom was brighter, walls lined with bookshelves, a desk cluttered with books and a laptop. In the corner sat a silver photo frame and an open bag of oatmeal, its edges crinkled.

Liu Wangjiang approached the desk, his fingers brushing the photo frame. It held an image of a young man with black eyes, but after heavy editing and filters, he looked like a young girl.

He lifted the frame, tracing the “girl’s” cheek, his deep purple eyes glinting with faint light.

His gaze shifted to the “specially processed” oatmeal bag. Recalling the soft touch in his palm today, his voice softened, tender. “Qiqi, I’m looking forward to it more and more. You’ll be beautiful like that.”

“Just like my mother.”