After the meeting, they all left in small groups.

After returning my soul to my main body, Zhao Zhao and I slipped back through the hidden passage to the boys’ campus, then left through its front gate. We’d survived our first day in the girls’ campus—though not without a few moments when the girls’ enthusiasm had us trembling.

As for Xiao Lei, she’d been carted off by some girls around lunchtime for a good half hour. She returned just before class looking utterly dejected—hair a mess, clothes rumpled, lipstick marks on her face. Even without asking, I could guess what she’d been through.

Turns out, the predatory types here are a little terrifying. We thought turning into girls would mean we could flirt and snack on eye candy to our hearts’ content… but we had it all backwards. Xiao Lei didn’t just fail to complete the tasks Zhao Zhao gave her—she was on the verge of a full social shutdown.

We were the prey. They were the hunters.

Well, maybe not everyone saw it as a bad thing. For a thrill-seeker like Zhao Zhao, this might’ve been a dream come true.

Last Sunday, Wu Qinglan went with me to the hospital for a check-up on my fracture. The doctor said the cast could come off around mid-October and praised my recovery—no lasting damage.

Of course I was healing well—my real body was lying in bed all day, barely moving except when I was wheeled around. No strain, no problem.

Once the cast comes off, there’ll be no need to keep using the bookmark. That also means my girls’ campus “trial period” will be over.

Including the National Day¹ break, I had barely over ten days left here.

I wasn’t exactly happy about it, it just feels a bit sad about leaving.

As Fei said before, this school’s teaching quality and atmosphere far outshone the boys’ campus next door. The environment was better, the relationships warmer—it was like a different world.

Life here was genuinely pleasant. I even regretted not agreeing to Rinka’s request sooner. Honestly, I was feeling pretty Jingze² about it all.

Today marked my fourth day at Biyang Girls High.

And I received a letter.

I found it after PE, sitting in my desk drawer—a plain white envelope with no name. An anonymous letter.

I hadn’t opened it yet, or told Rinka and the others. Only Xiao Lei, sitting next to me, had seen it from the start.

She covered her mouth, whispering, “Commander, this has got to be that kind of letter!”

Meaning—a love letter.

“No way. I’ve only been here three and a half days. How could I be getting love letters already?”

“No, no—there’s a kind of love called love at first sight,” she declared dramatically. “Sure, it’s the flimsiest kind, but they’ve probably just been blinded by your pretty face.”

She clasped her hands and launched into a flowery speech.

“Unlike them, my love for you has stood the test of years. It’s a love etched into my very bones!”

I sniffed the envelope and caught a faint scent. “Perfume—very light. Probably got on while writing. Doesn’t smell like anything our classmates use…”

“Give me some reaction at least!”

“What kind of reaction do you want?”

Ignoring her only made her push harder. “I like you too,” I said carefully, “but right now, you and Zhao Zhao are still the same person. I can’t accept us being in that kind of relationship just yet.”

Instead of being let down, her eyes lit up.

“Oh! So I still have a chance?”

“…Maybe? Once you’re separate from Zhao Zhao, we can take our time.”

“Mm! I’ll be waiting!”

Her trust was so guileless that guilt pricked me. One day, I might not be able to refuse her anymore. Her straightforwardness was unexpectedly overwhelming.

Anyway—back to the envelope.

Just as the boys’ campus had its share of genuine gay students, the girls’ campus was no stranger to yuri. So while I said I doubted it was a love letter, I still had a flicker of hope. Honestly, with my looks, it wouldn’t be strange for someone to fall for me.

Xiao Lei was getting impatient. “Then open it already!”

I shook my head. “It’s because I don’t know what’s inside that I can’t bring myself to look.”

“Want me to read it for you?”

“It’s my letter. I should be the first to read it. That’s basic respect for the sender.”

“Then read it!”

“I’m scared!”

“You’re impossible!”

She snatched the envelope, tore it open, pulled out the letter, and slapped it right onto my face.

She was forcing me to read it.

It was surprisingly short—just one line:
Miss Lingmeng, please come alone to the rooftop at noon.

I tossed it onto her desk. “Not really a love letter. More like… an invitation? Or a challenge?”

It said nothing about why—more like an order.

“Hmm… weird for a love letter. Are you going?”

“Of course. I’ve got Sis Qiuluo with me—what’s there to be afraid of?”

As Rinka’s personally appointed bodyguard, Qiuluo picked me up from the little house every day, loitered around the building during class, and stuck to me like glue between periods. She’d probably follow me into the bathroom if I let her.

But she wasn’t exactly gentle with me—this whole show was really for ‘Miss Rinka.’

Xiao Lei frowned. “But it says you have to go alone.”

“You’re not thinking it through. I go up there alone, but she can wait right outside. The rooftop’s got one exit—if anything happens, I just yell.”

Not that I expected trouble.

Since the letter specified noon, I didn’t want lunch to get in the way. I even turned down Rinka’s lunch invite and, the moment the bell rang, dashed up to the sixth-floor rooftop.

I told Qiuluo to wait outside, then stepped out onto the roof alone. My heart was oddly excited—maybe some shy underclassman was going to confess one-on-one?

Clinging to that unrealistic hope, I pushed open the rooftop door.

The rooftop here was open to students, unlike the locked one at the boys’ campus. It had a high chain-link fence, decorative planters, and benches—though few people came.

It was also more complex than I’d pictured—multiple entries from stairwells, a cluster of air-conditioning units, and piping.

Near the fence stood someone with her back to me, looking down at the campus. The breeze teased her shoulder-length wavy hair.

Noticing my footsteps, she turned slowly. Her suit jacket hung open over a white shirt, paired with a navy pencil skirt and sheer black tights. Her figure was surprisingly fit—slim waist, long shapely legs under the skirt.

From the neck down, she could’ve been a model.

Her drooping eyes carried a hint of drowsiness. She greeted me lazily, “Yo. Good afternoon, Miss Lingmeng.”

She wasn’t a student.

“Wait—was it you who sent the letter, Ms. Gao?”

It was my homeroom teacher, Gao Mujin.