October 2nd, Thursday

The second day of the holiday.

According to our plan from yesterday, Xiao Lei and I took the subway early in the morning to visit Yan Liuzhuan’s home on Pingcheng New Street. I had already called Old Yan last night to let him know we’d be visiting—and I’d invited Rinka along too. I figured she’d be happy to see Yan Yao, after all.

“Sorry to intrude!”

Opening the door for us was Yan Liuzhuan himself. He made a polite “please come in” gesture and led us into the house.

“You can keep the wheelchair folded by the shoe cabinet. I’ll take care of your shoes—just head in first.”

The entire place was filled with the scent of polished rosewood—grand and clean, just as I remembered. Everything gleamed under the morning light. Xiao Lei, visiting for the first time, froze at the entrance, unsure where to step—as if touching the floor might somehow desecrate it.

“I already felt it a little when we entered the building, but now that I’m inside—wow. Don’t tell me the Iron Faced Judge is secretly some super-rich young master?”

…Right, she didn’t know.

At school, Old Yan always kept a low profile, never flaunting anything. Even at home, he still wore his simple school uniform. That was just his nature. But the house itself—left behind by his grandfather—was worth a small fortune. So yeah, calling him a “young master” wouldn’t exactly be wrong.

“Rather than a young master,” I said, “I think he’d prefer being called an artist, or maybe a great painter.”

Old Yan waved his hand repeatedly. “No, no. I’m still far from anything like a great artist.”

“You’re too modest.” I put on a wise expression. “A true master is an eternal student.”

“An eternal student, huh?”

He repeated the words seriously, savoring them, before nodding in approval.
“Mm, that quote’s good. Who said that—some famous thinker?”

Xiao Lei burst into a small laugh. “Pfft! It’s from Master Yi, the Wuju Bladesman.”

“Never heard of him. A master swordsman, I take it? Didn’t know you dabbled in kendo, Chang Kai.”

“Uh… well…”

Yeah, this was not the time to admit it was a video game character.

Since Rinka hadn’t arrived yet, we decided to wait. While Old Yan brewed tea, I took Xiao Lei upstairs to look around his studio.

The first thing that caught our eyes was an unfinished painting—a stunningly beautiful woman, graceful in form… except she wasn’t wearing any clothes.

…Yep. That’s so Old Yan.

Even knowing it was art, my idiot brain couldn’t help wandering into improper thoughts. Clearly, I was still too immature to fully appreciate “the sacredness of art.”

“Commander,” Xiao Lei whispered, “don’t you think she looks kinda like you?”

“Wh—what nonsense! She does not!”

But honestly… I kind of saw it too. I just didn’t want to admit it.

Grumbling, I followed Xiao Lei back downstairs.

The rosewood sofa was now padded for autumn—soft and warm to sit on. It was already past nine. Given Rinka’s place, she should’ve arrived long ago. What’s taking her so long?

“While we wait,” said Old Yan, placing tea and a couple of small books on the table, “you can read this.”

The covers were colorful, A6 paperback size. The title read Witches of the Witch’s Forest by Miyanaga Kohime.

Ah—Brother Feng Wu’s pen name. Xiao Cangyu’s older brother. And the editor’s name—Sayocho—was still the same.

Judging by the title, it didn’t seem like a female-targeted novel, though it was published by Lilim Publishing, which usually focused on women’s readership. I couldn’t tell if it would sell well.

As if reading my doubts, Old Yan explained, “It’s not a romance title. It’s a healing story. I was in charge of the illustrations, so I hope you’ll take a good look.”

Xiao Lei flipped through a few pages. “These are yours? They’re so pretty—and clean!”

I nodded. “Well, since Rinka’s not here yet, let’s take a look together.”

The story was set in a declining age of magic—a quiet European forest where the last witches lived out their daily lives. It felt like one of those bittersweet, healing tales.

“If this one does well,” Old Yan said, “there’ll be a signing event. I’ll count on your help then.”

“No problem.”

“What signing event? What are you two talking about?”

“It’s a long story… so I won’t start on it,” I said.

Xiao Lei, who’d missed most of our summer adventures while Zhao Zhao was suffering in remedials, blinked in confusion, her face a perfect (OvO). Explaining would take forever—better to skip it.

Old Yan soon sat down too, opening a leather-bound classic from his study. The three of us sipped tea and read in companionable silence—a perfect, lazy holiday moment.

Only Xiao Lei, the moment she started reading, began dozing off nose-first into the pages.

Around ten o’clock, the electronic doorbell finally rang.

“Yahoi~! I’m heeere! Kai-chan, Xiao Lei! When’d you two get here?”

“You’ve got some nerve asking that—we’ve been here since nine! And what’s all that in your hands?”

Rinka tottered in, arms loaded with seven or eight shopping bags, and dumped them all onto the sofa. I picked one up and pulled out… a piece of black fabric. Unfolding it—oh. Black lace panties.

Rinka snatched them back at lightning speed. “I picked up some women’s clothes for Liuliu on the way. They’ll come in handy today!”

The last time Yan Yao attended a convention, she’d borrowed clothes from Rinka. It made sense—she probably didn’t own any herself. Rinka was being thoughtful, as usual.

Then Rinka noticed the folded wheelchair by the door.
“Kai-chan, you’re not using the bookmark today?”

I sighed. “Dad’s home today. Leaving my body unattended could cause problems. And I still don’t know if the guy who planted that surveillance camera might sneak into my room during the day.”

Yeah—letting my unconscious body share a room with some unknown stalker? No thanks.

Drowsy Xiao Lei perked up again.
“Rinka’s here—can we start testing the notebook’s new feature now?”

“Of course.”

I reached into my shoulder bag and pulled out the Bishoujo Notebook.
“Before that, let me show you a magic trick.”

I gave it a flick—and the notebook turned into a black silk scarf.

“Whoa! Commander, that’s amazing! How’d you do that?”

Xiao Lei clapped like a kid at a stage show, while Old Yan nodded quietly in approval. Rinka, on the other hand, caught on immediately.

“So that’s the new feature, huh? The same thing that let it turn into that cloth covering your chest at the concert?”

After two days of testing, I’d more or less figured out the notebook’s clothing-shift ability.

“Exactly—and it can do more.”
I waved the scarf again. The notebook turned into—yep, the same black lace panties from before.

Just by picturing it in my mind, the notebook could transform into any kind of outfit. Sometimes, though, it added its own “creative adjustments.” Like Master Halliluya said—it only turned into women’s clothes, and apparently, only in black.

“So you really like that pair, huh?” Rinka gave me a disapproving look. “The new function is just underwear?”

“Not just underwear! It can make any woman's outfit! Whole ensembles!”

Xiao Lei’s eyes sparkled. “That’s super useful! You can wear whatever you want anytime!”

“Yeah, but… I don’t want to wear women’s clothes. Once my cast comes off mid-month, I’ll hand you the bookmark. After that, this new feature’ll only be for you guys—or maybe for newly transformed people who don’t have clothes yet.”

Even with the new self-transform permission, it seems every feature the Notebook’s got does nothing for me personally.

What the heck, am I being too altruistic for a god? Always giving and never getting a single perk?

Seriously — being the God of Bishoujo, so why do I feel like I’ve got almost no divine powers for myself?