Mature Beyond My Years

At the school gate.

Chen De had barely stepped inside when the old security guard stopped him.

"Student, where's your school badge?"

Chen De lowered his head and glanced at it.

The badge hung from his chest.

The photo showed what he used to look like.

But now he—

Was five foot five, with ash-white long hair and features so exquisite they looked like they had been enhanced with a level-ten beauty filter.

The guard's gaze bounced back and forth between the photo on the badge and Chen De's face.

Like he was playing a spot-the-difference game.

"Is this you?"

"It's me."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

The guard picked up the badge and leaned in to examine it for two seconds.

Then he leaned in and examined Chen De for another two seconds.

Then he took a step back, his entire expression becoming incredibly complicated.

It was the sort of complicated expression you made when you saw a burly man in a wedding dress on the street—you knew you shouldn't comment, but your brain had already started firing off bullet comments on its own.

"Go on in."

In the end, the guard let him through.

But the look in his eyes as he watched Chen De leave was full of things left unsaid.

Maybe he was thinking: Young people's hobbies were getting more and more avant-garde these days.

Chen De walked past without changing expression.

Qubi poked half its head out through a gap in the backpack.

"The way he looked at you just now—I've never seen that look on over a hundred magical girls."

"Shut up."

"That look probably translated to—"

"I said shut up."

"'Student, do you have some secret preference no one knows about?'"

Chen De quickened his pace.

The teaching building corridor.

Before he even reached his classroom door, he sensed something strange.

The head-turn rate.

A two-hundred-percent head-turn rate.

That wasn't an exaggeration.

Someone had turned around to look at him twice.

Two girls walking ahead turned around, and one tugged the other's sleeve.

"Hey, look at that person."

"Which one?"

"The gray-haired one! Is he a transfer student? He's so pretty!"

"He really is... I don't think I've seen him before."

Chen De didn't stop walking.

But the blood pressure gauge in his mind had already begun jumping wildly.

A transfer student.

Fine.

That was better than "Chen De, are you cross-dressing?"

He lowered his head and hurried toward the classroom.

But the moment he reached the door, he ran into Jiang Ping, who was coming out.

Jiang Ping looked at him once.

Then looked again.

"Who are you?"

Chen De: "..."

"Move aside. I'm going in."

Jiang Ping shifted to the side and let him pass.

Then he muttered behind him.

"Pretty good-looking, though."

Chen De dropped into his seat.

And slammed his backpack onto the desk.

Jiang Ping wandered back, sat down beside him, and turned to look.

"Wait."

His expression began to change.

He was confused.

He thought.

He was shocked.

"Dezi???"

"Mm."

"You???"

"Mm."

"How did you—"

"Puberty."

"You said puberty yesterday too—"

"Second growth spurt."

"A second growth spurt can turn you into this?!"

Jiang Ping leaned his entire body back against the chair.

He scrutinized Chen De as if he were looking at an alien.

Chen De remained expressionless.

"Had enough?"

"How did your hair turn ash-white?"

"Premature gray hair. Mature beyond my years."

"How did your face get smaller?"

"I lost weight."

"You lost this much weight from yesterday to today?"

"Fast metabolism."

"Then how did you get shorter too?!"

Chen De took a deep breath.

"Jiang Ping."

"Huh?"

"Can you ask all your questions at once instead of blurting them out one by one?"

"I'm afraid your heart won't be able to take it if I ask them all at once."

"Don't worry. My heart is tougher than yours."

Jiang Ping opened his mouth, seemingly with a whole bellyful of questions to ask.

But he looked at Chen De's expression, then at the classmates beside them who had started pricking up their ears.

He lowered his voice to the barest whisper.

"Are you sick?"

Chen De looked at him.

This time, Jiang Ping's eyes weren't curious.

They were worried.

Chen De fell silent for a second.

"I'm fine. It's just some... physical changes."

"What did the doctor say?"

"The doctor said it wasn't a big problem. It'll stabilize."

Jiang Ping stared at him for several seconds.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You don't look me in the eye when you talk. You're definitely lying to me."

Chen De raised his head and looked directly into Jiang Ping's eyes.

"I'm fine."

Jiang Ping fell silent for a few more seconds.

"Fine."

He turned around, took a bottle of milk out of his backpack, and placed it on Chen De's desk.

"Eat more. You look like a sheet of paper right now."

Chen De held the bottle of milk without speaking.

Qubi spoke in an extremely quiet voice from inside the backpack.

"Your friend is really nice."

Chen De stuffed the milk into his desk drawer.

"No shit."

The class bell rang.

Math class.

The math teacher pushed open the door and swept his gaze across the classroom.

His eyes paused on Chen De for half a second.

Then he opened the attendance register.

"Chen De."

"Here."

Every head in the classroom turned toward him in unison like sunflowers.

Then a wave of hushed discussion rose through the room.

"That's Chen De??"

"How did he turn into this?"

"Holy shit, he's so pretty."

"Did he get work done?"

"A full makeover overnight? What, do you think he got his face swapped?"

"Then how do you explain it?"

"Maybe it's a filter... wait, this is real life, not a livestream..."

The math teacher knocked on the podium.

"Quiet."

The murmuring died down a little.

But that undercurrent of curiosity was impossible to suppress.

Chen De could feel at least ten gazes glued to the back of his head.

Like he was being targeted by ten surveillance cameras at once.

He opened his textbook expressionlessly.

It's fine. They'll get used to it in a couple of days.

The moment the dismissal bell rang.

Before Chen De could even stand up, a circle of people had gathered around his desk.

"Dezi, what happened to you?"

"Did you take some kind of medicine?"

"Did you secretly get cosmetic work done?"

"How did your hair change color? Did you dye it?"

"Your skin is way too good! What facial cleanser do you use?"

Chen De's temples throbbed.

"I didn't get work done. I didn't take medicine. I didn't dye my hair. I don't use facial cleanser."

"This is a rare—"

His mind raced.

"Hormonal imbalance."

"Hormonal imbalance?"

"Yeah, puberty had gone a little off course."

"The doctor said it would get better after a while."

Was that explanation believable?

Not really.

But was it enough?

Barely.

After all, no one present was an endocrinologist.

Half the crowd dispersed.

But several girls remained where they were.

Their eyes gleamed like they had spotted discounted lipstick.

"Chen De."

"Yeah?"

"Are you... planning to keep this hair color?"

"No."

"What a pity. It really looks super good on you."

"Thanks, but no thanks."

"Would you be interested in joining our club?"

"What club?"

"The Campus Appearance Rankings Selection Committee."

"The school has a club like that??"

Jiang Ping had been holding it in beside him for ages.

In the end, he could not hold it in anymore.

He burst out laughing.

Chen De turned and glared at him.

Jiang Ping immediately wiped the expression off his face and lowered his head, pretending to do his homework.

But his shoulders were still shaking.

After Chen De drove off the onlookers, he slumped over his desk.

Qubi stuck a paw out through a gap in the backpack and poked his arm.

"Chen De."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to hear some good news?"

"Go on."

"The good news is—most people just think you got better-looking. No one actually suspects your identity."

"What's the bad news?"

"The bad news is—you've already been secretly photographed at least six times."

"Two of those photos have already been posted on the school confession wall."

Chen De shot upright.

"What?!"

He pulled out his phone and opened the school confession wall.

The newest post.

A photo of his profile.

The caption read—"Is this a new transfer student? Does anyone know her? Looking for her contact info!"

There were over three hundred comments below.

Chen De placed his phone face down on the desk.

He closed his eyes.

"Qubi."

"Yeah."

"If I go out and clarify that it's me..."

"Then this post will become, 'Shocking! Chen De from Class 3, Grade 11, suspected of attending class in women's clothing.'"

"Right."

"So whether I clarify it or not, I'm screwed."

"The classic Schrödinger's social death—as long as you don't open the box, you exist in a superposition of being socially dead and not being socially dead."

"Then I choose never to open it."