Already Starting to Accept It

The alarm rang three times.

When Chen De crawled out of bed, he felt less like he had gotten a night's sleep.

And more like someone had stuffed him into a washing machine and spun him around for eight hours.

He felt around for the painkillers on the bedside table.

Twisted off the cap.

And poured them into his mouth.

A flavor combining Chinese medicine, expired yogurt, vinegar, and mustard exploded across his tongue.

Chen De's expression twisted for a full three seconds.

Then he forced it down.

"I'm used to it."

He wiped the corner of his mouth expressionlessly.

A week ago, there was no way he could have said that.

But now he had.

Human adaptability really was limitless.

Or rather, when life decided to shove shit into your mouth, you had no choice but to chew it up and swallow it.

Chen De dragged his aching body to the sink.

He took a deep breath.

And looked up.

The person in the mirror looked back at him.

His hair had grown lighter again, long ash-white strands falling over his shoulders.

His skin was so pale it looked like he had three layers of whitening filters on.

His features were delicate enough to make people want to call the police.

There was a gentleness in his brows and eyes.

Not the kind of gentleness someone forced themselves to put on.

The kind that came naturally, from the very core of a person, making anyone who saw it want to say, "Hello, Senior Sister."

Chen De stared at the mirror for five seconds.

"Qubi."

"Mm."

Qubi poked its head out from behind the shower curtain, its emerald-green eyes narrowed.

"How tall am I now?"

"Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Tell me."

"One sixty-three."

Chen De grabbed the sink.

"Wasn't I one sixty-five yesterday?"

"Yesterday was yesterday. Today is today."

"I shrank another two centimeters overnight?"

"More precisely, 1.7 centimeters. Rounded up, that's two centimeters."

"You won't even let the decimal go, huh?"

"Precision is—"

"If you say precision is a virtue one more time, I'll flush you down the drain."

Qubi wisely shut its mouth.

Chen De lowered his head and looked himself over.

One sixty-three.

He had originally been one seventy-five.

One week.

He had shrunk twelve centimeters.

What did twelve centimeters even mean?

About the length of a remote control.

His entire body had gotten one remote control shorter.

"You're still thirteen centimeters away from your transformed height," Qubi added.

"You mean I still have to shrink another thirteen centimeters?"

"Theoretically, you'll gradually approach it."

"Theoretically? That word has never been right when you used it."

"Then I'll put it another way—you're about to become a girl."

"That's even more wrong."

Chen De took a deep breath.

Then let it out.

Then he said something to the mirror.

"I can only hope I don't get any shorter."

The moment the words left his mouth, Qubi's tail swayed.

"Do you know what that kind of line is called in stories?"

"What?"

"A flag."

"I didn't raise a flag."

"The grammatical structure you just used was 'hope I don't XXX.' That's a classic flag-raising sentence pattern."

"Ninety-seven percent of the time, once someone says that, XXX happens."

Chen De opened his mouth.

Then swallowed the rest of his words.

He decided never to start another sentence with the word "hope."

"Qubi."

"Mm."

"With how fast I'm changing, would it slow down if I didn't transform?"

Qubi tilted its head.

"It would slow down a little, but it wouldn't stop."

"Your body has already entered an automatic adjustment cycle."

"Transforming or not only affects the speed, not the direction."

"Like a car going downhill. Whether you step on the gas or not, it'll keep sliding down."

"Then can I pull the handbrake?"

"There is no handbrake."

"What if I jump out of the car?"

"You'll still keep changing even if you jump out."

"Then what else can I do?"

"Sit tight, buckle up, and enjoy the ride."

Chen De clenched his fist.

"What's at the end of this ride?"

"One fifty."

"I don't accept that."

"Your body doesn't need your acceptance."

Chen De stared at the face in the mirror.

Honestly.

After a week of mentally preparing himself.

He had evolved from the initial stage of I'm going to die to the stage of Whatever, do whatever you want.

People couldn't fight their own bodies.

Even if they did, it was useless.

His body wouldn't listen to him anyway.

"What I should be thinking about isn't how to stop the changes," Chen De muttered to himself.

"It's how to hide them."

That was the core problem.

Jiang Ping.

His classmates.

His teachers.

The old security guard.

More than a thousand people across the entire school.

Right now, he relied on patches every day to freeze his appearance.

But every replacement patch was based on his current condition.

Which meant a little bit of change leaked through every day.

A little shorter today.

A little paler tomorrow.

A little thinner the day after that.

Like slowly boiling a frog.

Except the water temperature was rising faster and faster.

"Qubi."

"Mm."

"Jiang Ping asked me three times yesterday, 'Did you get shorter again?'"

"That's normal. He's observant to begin with."

"I'm running out of excuses."

"What else can you make up?"

"I've already used puberty, hormonal imbalance, secondary development, and rare genetic mutation."

"After that, all that's left is alien abduction and traveling through parallel universes."

"Then say—"

"If you tell me to say I ate some weird mushroom, I really will flush you down the drain."

Qubi closed its mouth.

Chen De rubbed his temples.

Then pulled out his phone and took a look.

Bank balance: 552,000.

Converted into Magic Coins, that was just over 55,000.

The fixed daily expenditure was eight hundred.

His income was still barely optimistic.

At least he wasn't spending more than he earned.

"Qubi."

"Mm."

"I feel like I'm the poorest magical girl in the world."

"Not necessarily. There's also one in debt."

"Who?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose personal information."

"Magical girls can go into debt?"

"She took out loans from the shop three hundred and twelve times."

"...Your shop has loans too?"

"Yes. The annual interest rate is thirty-six percent."

"Isn't that usury?!"

"We generally call it 'Dream Support Funds.'"

Chen De took a deep breath.

He would never touch that thing, even if it killed him.

After changing into his school uniform.

The sleeves had gotten longer again.

The pant legs dragged even more.

In the uniform, he looked like he had stolen clothes from a previous version of himself.

He rolled up his sleeves.

Then cuffed his pant legs twice.

The patch was still there; to anyone else, he still looked normal.

But when he looked down, he saw the truth.

"Let's go."

Chen De picked up his schoolbag.

Qubi hopped onto his shoulder.

"Chen De."

"What is it now?"

"Your gait today is even more penguin-like than yesterday."

"The painkillers haven't fully kicked in yet."

"Then by the time you get to school—"

"They'll kick in right as I get there. I calculated it."

"You're getting more and more precise with your painkiller timing."

"What do you call that?"

"I call that sadness."

"I call that experience."

"Experience comes from repeated suffering, so essentially, it's still sadness."

Chen De didn't argue.

He pushed the door open.

The morning light shone on him.

He looked down at his shadow.

It was a fraction shorter than it had been a week ago.

But the sunlight was warm.

At least that hadn't changed.

Qubi lay flat on his shoulder and suddenly spoke up.

"Chen De."

"Hmm."

"Have you noticed something lately?"

"What is it?"

"You haven't stood in front of the mirror and said 'I am a man' for three days now."

Chen De's footsteps stopped.

The air fell silent for two seconds.

"Because there's no need."

"Because saying it is useless, or because you're starting to accept it?"

Chen De quickened his pace.

He didn't answer.

Qubi's ears twitched.

It didn't press the matter further.

For some answers, silence itself is the answer.