He woke up still feeling a bit groggy.  
Squinting with half-closed eyes, he shuffled into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water onto his face. Instantly jolted awake, he felt fully alert.

After drying his face, he glanced around and recognized the familiar bathroom—it was his rented place.  
Clearly, Guo Zhengde must have brought him back last night.  
Given how utterly drunk he’d been, Guo probably paid the bill too.

Just as he was wondering whether to call Guo, his phone rang. He hurried back to his room, spotted the phone on the nightstand, and saw Guo Zhengde’s name on the screen. He answered immediately.

“Hey.”

“Haozi, you feeling okay now?”

“Yeah… What could possibly be wrong?” Shen Hao chuckled.

“Good. But hey—yesterday you promised to treat, yet I ended up paying the bill. I’m keeping track—you owe me.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll owe you for now,” Shen Hao said with a laugh.

“And remember—if you run into any trouble, don’t you dare hold back from asking me for help.”

“Of course not,” Shen Hao replied lightly, though inwardly he sighed. His problem wasn’t something money could fix.

“Alright, I’m hanging up—I still need to catch some more sleep!” And with that, the call ended.

Still sleeping in? What time is it already?

Shen Hao assumed it must be late morning, but checking his phone showed it was only a little past seven.  
Ah—Guo must have been worried about him to call so early, hence the comment about needing more sleep.

Since it was still so early… should he go to the forest park and see if that girl was there?  
The thought crossed his mind. He doubted she’d be there—if anything, she’d probably moved on after being spotted—but with nothing else to do, he couldn’t just sit around and wonder. At the very least, he’d get in a morning run.

After a brief hesitation, he decided to go. If he saw her, great. If not, it wouldn’t be a wasted trip—exercise alone was worth it.

He changed into running shoes and sportswear, grabbed his keys, and was about to leave—then paused, deciding to put on his glasses. If he did meet the girl, he wanted to see her clearly this time, not like last time when he couldn’t even remember what she looked like.

Downstairs, he found it was another foggy morning—thick white mist blanketing everything. Taking a breath, he felt the cool dampness fill his mouth.

He followed his usual route toward the forest park, cutting through a quiet villa neighborhood as a shortcut, and soon arrived at the park entrance.

A stone archway stood at the gate, engraved with the words “East Mountain Forest Park.” A paved slope curved beneath it, winding deep into the woods.

Shen Hao followed the path, the mountain trail fading in and out of view through the mist.

Soon, he reached the edge of the woods.  
He stood still for a moment, listening carefully—but heard nothing. His heart sank a little.  
Had he come too late? Or had the girl, after being seen, moved to a different spot to practice?

He took off his glasses, wiped away the fogged-up droplets, put them back on, stepped over the roadside drainage ditch, and plunged into the trees.

It didn’t take long before he reached the familiar clearing where she used to train. He looked around closely—but found no fresh footprints or signs of recent activity. She clearly hadn’t been there today.

So… she really had moved on.

His last flicker of hope vanished. Sighing, Shen Hao turned and left the woods, disappointed.

He didn’t actually expect her to teach him martial arts. He just wanted to know—was “inner energy” (neigong) real? And in this modern day and age, were there still people who could leap across rooftops like characters in wuxia novels?

That’s all he wanted to understand.

But now, the one person who might have answered those questions—the girl he’d glimpsed—was gone without a trace. His questions would likely remain unanswered.

Back at his apartment, he didn’t linger. Knowing he might not return here for a long time, he packed a few essentials into a backpack to take home.

Before leaving, he called his parents. His mother happily welcomed the idea, saying she’d buy groceries and cook his favorite dishes for lunch.

True to her word, when his parents came home at noon, they brought back an array of his favorite foods.

During the meal, none of them mentioned the upcoming surgery—as if it didn’t exist at all.

At two in the afternoon, Shen Hao headed to the hospital for another psychological counseling session, working to ease his inner resistance and anxiety.

Actually, ever since his heart-to-heart talk with Guo Zhengde in Huihai District, he’d already made peace with things.  
Why should gender be defined solely by one’s reproductive organs? Fine—he’d go through with the surgery. So what if his “little brother” became a “little sister”? As long as he kept his outward appearance the same, who’d know whether he stood or squatted to pee? As long as he felt comfortable and free—that was all that mattered.

Of course, part of this was self-consolation—but he’d genuinely decided: he’d only undergo the genital reassignment surgery. No breast implants, no cosmetic enhancements—none of that. He’d stay as he was: a “fake man,” if you will… and if necessary, remain single for life.

With this mindset, his anxiety lifted. Combined with the therapist’s support, he felt remarkably lighter.

One month of psychological preparation passed quickly—and finally, the day of surgery arrived.

Lying beneath the sterile glare of the operating lights, surrounded by indistinct silhouettes, Shen Hao felt his consciousness slowly drift away.

“Begin.”

As those words faded, his awareness detached from his body… and everything went dark.

…

He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious.

When he woke, he saw a pale blue ceiling above. His lower body felt completely numb—likely still under the effects of anesthesia.

So… it’s over?

Even though he’d mentally prepared himself, a complex wave of emotion washed over him now that it was truly done. He lay still on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He’d been placed in a private room to avoid awkward questions from roommates about what kind of surgery he’d had.

The room was empty—his parents were nowhere to be seen.

Just as he wondered where they’d gone, the door opened.

He turned his head—and first saw a large bouquet of flowers, then the face of his therapist, Dr. Wang, followed by his mother and father.

“Awake?” Dr. Wang smiled warmly as she stepped in.

“Yeah, just woke up,” Shen Hao replied.

“These are for you,” she said, setting the flowers on the nightstand.

The faint fragrance lifted his spirits. He smiled. “Thanks.”

“Thank you, Dr. Wang,” his mother added, offering her freshly bought fruit as a gesture of appreciation.

“No need to be so formal,” Dr. Wang said, sitting on the stool beside the bed. She watched as Shen Hao, with his mother’s help, sat up slowly. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright,” Shen Hao said, then added with a small smile, “Feels like nothing’s changed.”

Dr. Wang understood exactly what he meant—but wisely steered the conversation elsewhere, keeping things light and relaxed.

It was still early afternoon. The surgery that morning had lasted about three hours—not just a simple genital reconstruction, but also involved creating several internal channels due to the complexity of his condition.

His parents had likely stepped out briefly for lunch, which explained their earlier absence.

Dr. Wang didn’t stay long. After some casual chatting, she took her leave.  
His father checked on his condition, learned the anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off yet, and then headed back to work.  
Only his mother remained—she’d taken time off to care for him.

“The doctor said you can’t eat or drink yet, but you can have some fruit,” she said, handing him a peeled apple.

Shen Hao took a bite. His mother peeled another for herself, and they chatted as they ate.

When they finished, she gently said, “Son, get some rest.”

He nodded, lay back down, and closed his eyes.

He didn’t sleep long—soon jolted awake by sharp, stabbing pain. The anesthesia had worn off; the post-op pain had begun. There was nothing to do but sit up slowly and distract himself with his phone.

Just then, the door opened again.

A female nurse peeked in, saw him looking her way, and pushed the door open wider. Glancing at the package in her hand, she asked, “Are you Mr. Shen Hao?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he replied.

“You have a package.” She stepped inside and handed it to him.

“Thank you.”

After she left, he examined the parcel, puzzled.

Who could possibly be sending him a package here? He hadn’t ordered anything online recently.

The package was small and thin—probably a book.

The shipping label clearly stated:  
Shen Hao, Room 203, First Affiliated Hospital of Nanzhou Medical College, Nanzhou City.

The address was precise—this was definitely meant for him.

But that was odd. Most deliveries went to his rental or his parents’ home. Who knew he was hospitalized—and even the exact room number?

His suspicion grew.

He checked the sender’s info—blurry and vague:  
Ms. Bai, Mingye Building, Jiujiang City.
No further details.

…Who was this?