First, the conclusion: Gao Yang might finally be saying goodbye to his lifelong single status.
This all started two days ago.
Two days ago, Wang Zikai—Gao Yang's best friend—stole his phone and sent Li Weiwei a 300-word "confession" as a prank. By the time Gao Yang realized it, the message was already unsendable. Though he immediately followed up with an explanation, Li Weiwei never replied. Worse, she avoided him at school for the next two days.
Li Weiwei and Gao Yang were childhood sweethearts. Their families lived close, they'd known each other since kindergarten, and fate had even brought them to the same high school in Licheng.
According to his host's pre-six-year-old memories, the original Gao Yang had harbored a crush on Li Weiwei. The moment he saw her in kindergarten, he'd decided he would marry her someday. Unfortunately, that dream was cut short when our Gao Yang crossed over.
Over the years, thanks to Li Weiwei, Gao Yang had become the envy of many male classmates.
Gao Yang cared deeply for her—who wouldn't like a beautiful girl?—but he'd never seriously considered romance. If he had to put it into words, he just didn't feel that spark.
With graduation two months away, everyone would soon go their separate ways.
Wang Zikai, ever the meddler (or more accurately, ever the bored idiot), decided to "help" by orchestrating this prank confession.
Now, after two days of silence, Li Weiwei finally replied:
"I accept."
Gao Yang's stomach twisted. Didn't I explain it was just Zikai messing around? Why is she ignoring that?
He started typing another clarification—
Then another message popped up:
"Want to meet up today?"
After a pause, Gao Yang replied: "Sure."
2:00 PM • Shanding District • Dawn Plaza
Li Weiwei was already waiting when Gao Yang arrived.
Dressed in a soft green sweater for the rare weekend outing, her usually tied-up hair cascaded over her shoulders. A breeze sent her locks and skirt fluttering as she pressed a hand to her ear, waving happily at him.
"Over here, Gao Yang!"
Spring sunlight bathed her smiling face.
In that moment, Gao Yang finally understood why his classmates simped so hard. I really have been taking this for granted.
He walked over with an apologetic smile. "Sorry I'm late."
"It's fine! Qing Ling and I already did some shopping. I bought some study guides—got you two copies too," Li Weiwei said.
Only then did Gao Yang notice the tall ponytailed girl standing a few steps behind her, scrolling through her phone with one hand in her pocket.
Qing Ling, 167 cm, the class's sprinting star and Li Weiwei's best friend.
Also, the school's undisputed goddess.
Beautiful face? Check. Unfairly porcelain skin despite daily training? Check. A figure sculpted by athletics that could make Renaissance artists weep? Double check. Those legs alone could slay any straight man within a ten-mile radius.
Yet unlike Li Weiwei, who regularly handed out "let's just be friends" rejections, Qing Ling had zero pursuers.
Because she never spoke to boys.
Or more accurately, the way she looked at them radiated the same visceral disgust one might reserve for a fly on their food.
Eventually, everyone accepted she had androphobia and stopped trying.
Gao Yang, however, suspected the truth: she wasn't repulsed by men—she was just a stunningly beautiful... lesbian.
As if sensing his gaze, Qing Ling lowered her phone and met his eyes.
The sheer aura of disdain hit him like a truck. Not just a fly—she made him feel like a fly circling actual garbage.
"Qing Ling, wanna join us?" Li Weiwei called.
"No, you two have fun." Qing Ling smiled at her—an angelic, breathtaking smile.
The double standards!
The afternoon passed in a blur of bubble tea, movies, and BBQ—a perfectly normal, painfully couple-like date.
That night, as Gao Yang walked Li Weiwei home along a quiet street, she suddenly turned to him:
"Hey... do you regret it?"
"Regret what?"
"Confessing to me." Her cheeks pinked. "I thought you'd be happier when I said yes. But maybe guys are like that—lose interest once they 'win,' realizing they never really liked the girl to begin with."
"It's not that, the message was actually—"
"Gao Yang." She squinted. "What's going on with you today? You're hiding something."
"...Am I?"
"Yes! You've been distracted all day."
She wasn't wrong. Gao Yang had hoped the "date" would take his mind off things, but the harder he tried not to think about it, the more it gnawed at him.
Finally, he asked: "Li Weiwei, can I ask you something?"
"Shoot."
"Your grandma died of a cerebral hemorrhage in ninth grade, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Did you see her... after?"
She blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Her body. Did you see it?"
"I was at school. By the time I got home, my parents had already sent her for cremation."
Just as I thought.
"Why's that weird?" she pressed.
"It's nothing..."
Though he'd only been six before crossing over, Gao Yang had attended the orphanage director's funeral. He'd long suspected this "parallel world" had subtle differences—like how the dead here were rushed to cremation, skipping viewings or wakes.
Almost as if they were... destroying evidence.
His grandfather. Her grandmother.
The thought sent a chill down his spine.
"Gao Yang... you look awful."
He took a breath. "Li Weiwei, have you ever thought... our world might be full of dangers we don't see?"
She tensed. "W-what are you talking about? You're scaring me..."
"That mental patient who grabbed me—you heard, right?"
"Yeah! Thank god the police shot him before he hurt you. I was so worried..." Her face reddened. "Actually... that's why I said yes."
Gao Yang shook his head. "He wasn't trying to hurt me. He was warning me."
"Warning? About what?"
He recounted the encounter, then brought up his grandfather's death.
With every word, Li Weiwei edged closer, gripping his arm.
"Couldn't it have been a dream? You were so young..."
"No. It wasn't a dream."
"You don't actually think your grandpa was..." She couldn't finish.
"I don't know. But something's off."
"You said you peeked into the room. What did you see?"
Gao Yang hesitated. The dream-memory had shown him something—but even he wasn't sure if it was real.
"Actually..."
"N-never mind! Let's just go home!"
"Li Weiwei." He grabbed her hand. "Don't you believe me?"
She took a shaky breath, then nodded. "I do."
"I trust you too. You're the only one I can tell this to." Steeling himself, he whispered: "I saw... an arm."
"An... arm?"
"Not human. Thick as a thigh, covered in gray-blue scales. They moved like... bugs crawling over each other."
"Oh god..."
"I don't know what it was. But it wasn't human."
Li Weiwei stared at him. Then, softly:
"Gao Yang... was it this kind of arm?"
—Pain exploded in his wrist.
He looked down.
Li Weiwei's delicate, porcelain skin split open.
Glistening gray-blue scales sprouted from the flesh, lengthening, slithering up his arm like leeches, burrowing under his skin, drinking.
"Li Weiwei... you—"
Her other hand clamped around his throat, lifting him effortlessly. The scales melted into tendrils, forcing into his mouth, nose, ears—even his tear ducts.
His skull creaked under the pressure. A few more seconds, and it would burst like a microwaved watermelon.
Yet Li Weiwei's voice remained sweet. Gentle.
"Thank you, Gao Yang." She smiled.
"You're the first Awakened I've ever met."
"..."
"I'll never forget you."