Of course, Shen Hao remembered the Wen family village incident, but why was his mother suddenly bringing up his cousin Wen Zhiqiang right now?

Noticing the confusion in Shen Hao’s eyes, his mother lowered her voice and said, “Actually, you don’t know—your cousin Zhiqiang got married two years ago.”

“Oh? That’s great! Congratulations!”  
Shen Hao found it odd that his mother was whispering so mysteriously about something as ordinary as a wedding.

“Yeah… she married a good husband,” his mother added.

“What? What did you just say?!”  
Shen Hao nearly thought he’d misheard. “What do you mean ‘she married’?!”

His mother sighed. “Remember two years ago? I got a call from the village saying your ‘older cousin’ was getting married and invited our whole family. I went alone. When I got there and asked who was getting married, I found out—because of certain circumstances—your cousin Zhiqiang had transitioned and changed his name… Later, she even gave birth to twins! They must be over a year old by now.”

As she recounted this, his mother seemed contemplative—but she had no idea that Shen Hao was utterly thunderstruck, as if struck by lightning, completely speechless with shock.

What—transitioned? Got married? And had twins?! What on earth had happened to his cousin over the past two years?! And even if a man transitioned, how could he possibly give birth? Was this some kind of miracle?!

“What… what’s going on?!” Shen Hao’s mind spun with confusion. He started wondering whether he’d lost his mind—or if the whole world had gone mad. How could a perfectly normal guy suddenly transition, get married, and have children? That was even more unbelievable than a U.S. stock market crash!

“You’ll just have to go back to Wenjia Village yourself someday and ask,” his mother said, avoiding further explanation. She moved closer on the sofa and looked seriously at him. “I’m telling you this because I want you to know—you don’t need to be afraid of transitioning. Look at your cousin Zhiqiang—well, you should call her ‘older cousin’ now—and she’s living just fine. Your dad and I aren’t old-fashioned, and we don’t favor boys over girls. Don’t feel like you have to carry this burden alone.”

Listening to his mother’s rambling, Shen Hao didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Just a moment ago, she’d been fretting over surgery costs, and now she was telling him not to worry? Was this really just about psychological burden?

Even if his parents accepted him—he couldn’t accept it himself!

Seeing his mother wouldn’t stop talking, his father cleared his throat and interrupted. “Alright, enough already. Let Xiao Hao think this through himself. No one else can decide for him. Only when he truly understands can he untie this knot inside.”

His father’s words struck a chord, and Shen Hao felt deeply moved.

In truth, when he’d decided to come clean to his parents, he’d secretly hoped for their understanding. But to his surprise, they weren’t reacting at all as expected. His dad had made a swift, decisive statement, while his mom first worried about surgery costs—only to then drop this bombshell about his cousin.  

Clearly, his parents weren’t the hardline opponents he’d feared. Now, the real challenge was his own inner struggle—how could he come to terms with this?

Afterward, his parents stayed in the living room watching the news while Shen Hao, weighed down by turbulent emotions, went upstairs to shower.

He’d never paid much attention to his body during showers before—but today, after washing, he stood in front of the mirror and examined himself closely.

He was 175 cm tall—his face wasn’t strikingly handsome, but clean-featured and decently good-looking.  
Thanks to his daily morning runs, his muscles weren’t bulky but firm—not soft or flabby at all.  
He touched his lower abdomen. From what little he remembered about human biology, a woman’s uterus and ovaries should be right here—but whether he looked or felt, there was no visible difference.

And yet, this ordinary, healthy young man had been diagnosed with true hermaphroditism.

There wasn’t a single thing about his body that seemed wrong!

After scrutinizing himself for a long time without noticing any anomaly, he sighed, shook his head, patted his stomach, dried off, put on his pajamas, and left the bathroom.

Back in his room, he turned on his computer and began searching for every piece of information available on true hermaphroditism—not just from Chinese sources, but foreign ones too, even using a VPN.

But after hours of reading, he found that documented cases were extremely rare, and the variations between individuals were so vast that there was no general pattern to follow.

He kept reading late into the night before finally going to bed.

That night, Shen Hao had a nightmare.  
He dreamt he split into two people—one male, one female. The man was someone else; the woman was himself.  
Terrified, he desperately wanted to see his reflection—then a mirror appeared before him. He stripped off his clothes and saw himself with breasts and female genitalia… yet his face remained exactly his own.

The sight was grotesquely jarring. In panic, he punched the mirror—shattering it—and then woke up.

“What a dream…” Shen Hao wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, still trembling with residual fear from the nightmare.  
He shook his head, got up, dressed, returned to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth, then went downstairs—only to find his mother had already prepared breakfast.

“I’ve taken the day off, and your dad did too. We’re going to the hospital for more thorough tests,” his mother said, placing a bowl of egg noodle soup on the table and gesturing for him to eat.

“Okay,” Shen Hao agreed—but he knew deep down that no matter how many tests they ran, the results wouldn’t change. Still, since his parents wanted it, he’d go along.

After breakfast, the three of them headed out, took the subway to another tertiary hospital, saw a specialist, and ran the tests again. Predictably, the report was identical.

The specialist’s advice was clear: surgery was necessary—otherwise, the condition could worsen.

The family sat in silence.

“Son, what do you think?” his mother asked, looking at Shen Hao seated to her left.

“What can I think?” Shen Hao gave a bitter smile. He had no real choice left—only to yield.

“So, Dr. Li,” his father turned to the doctor, “what preparations are needed before the surgery?”

“Given the patient’s situation,” Dr. Li replied, “I recommend one month of psychological counseling first. It can significantly reduce psychological resistance.”

“Alright, we’ll follow your recommendation,” his father nodded.

Shen Hao secretly breathed a sigh of relief—relieved that surgery wouldn’t happen immediately. And honestly, he did feel he needed the counseling.

The hospital had a psychological department. With Dr. Li’s referral, they registered for a session with a female therapist, Dr. Wang. After hearing Shen Hao’s situation, she immediately began the consultation.

Shen Hao had never seen a therapist before. He wasn’t sure how psychological treatment worked—especially since he didn’t feel mentally ill.

After his parents left, only Shen Hao and Dr. Wang remained in the therapy room.

To his surprise, their conversation barely touched on gender transition. Instead, she guided him through general talk, helping him express his thoughts. By the end, he only felt a bit less burdened—not suddenly accepting his fate, of course.

That was normal. Therapists weren’t miracle workers; their role was to help relieve pressure. The real work of untangling his inner conflict still lay with him.

The session ended quickly. After scheduling the next appointment, Shen Hao left the office to find his parents waiting outside.

“How do you feel, son?” his mother asked with concern.

“A little better—lighter,” Shen Hao smiled, not wanting to worry her.

“If it’s helping, that’s good,” his father said. “But in the end, it’s still up to you.”

Shen Hao nodded. He understood.

“What are your plans now?” his mother asked.

“I’ll go back to the office,” he said. “There are things I need to sort out.”

Transitioning was deeply personal—best kept private. Since he’d decided on surgery, he’d be unable to work for a while anyway. Plus, afterward, he’d need to update his ID, diploma, and all official documents. Staying at his current job would only risk exposure. Better to resign now and find a new job once everything settled.

His father nodded. “That makes sense—you should explain things clearly.”

“Mom, don’t tell my sister yet,” Shen Hao remembered his older sister, Shen Yue, and quickly added.

“Alright, we won’t. You can tell her yourself when the time comes,” his mother replied.

Shen Hao nodded again. He’d wait until everything was finalized before telling her.

After lunch, Shen Hao said goodbye to his parents and took the subway back to Huihai District.

He didn’t go to his rented apartment. Instead, he took a bus straight to his workplace.

He’d originally taken a three-day leave—but only two days had passed. His sudden appearance at the office naturally drew curious glances and questions from colleagues.

He forced smiles, cracked jokes, and brushed them off, finally heading to his manager’s office to submit his resignation.

The manager was puzzled and asked why. Shen Hao didn’t elaborate—only saying it was related to his recent medical checkup. (His manager and HR knew he’d taken sick leave, so they understood something serious had come up.)

Though Shen Hao didn’t specify the diagnosis, his abrupt resignation clearly suggested it was grave.

The manager fell silent for a moment, didn’t try to retain him, and only offered a few words of encouragement. Shen Hao managed a strained smile—further convincing his manager that he must have some terminal illness.

Shen Hao let him believe that. After all, being mistaken for terminally ill was far better than the truth.

Even though modern society was increasingly accepting of gender transition, it remained deeply private. To live a normal life afterward, he had to keep the truth hidden.