Chapter 25: Hot Springs 

What’s the most famous feature of the hot spring resort? 

Not the bamboo tube rice, not the couples’ suites, but the natural hot springs nestled in the back mountains—its flagship attraction that draws countless visitors.

“Hot springs?” 

Xu Yinsheng, engrossed in his game, shook his head at Zhao Yicheng’s suggestion. 

“Not interested. You go ahead.”

In his current god-tier trap body—curves in all the right places, with only a tiny “bean” downstairs hinting at his masculinity—soaking in a hot spring would be risky. 

Just glimpsing his own reflection in the water might leave him dazed.

“Little Yin…” 

Zhao Yicheng pressed, unwilling to give up.

How could he miss the chance to witness his best friend—no, future wife—in the bath?

Merely imagining Yinsheng wrapped in a towel, delicate shoulders peeking out, barefoot by the steaming springs, sent heat surging southward.

Xu Yinsheng waved him off, gesturing at his chest with a sigh. 

“Lao Zhao, you can’t possibly have missed… this change, right?”

“I noticed. You’ve gained weight.” 

Zhao Yicheng’s gaze dropped to the plush curves barely concealed by loose clothing. 

His throat bobbed, a flicker of confusion in his eyes.

What’s the internet’s term for these? he wondered. 

“Baby doves”? 

Or “steamed buns”?

Xu Yinsheng set down his phone and glared at his friend, who was blatantly staring at his chest.

After decades of friendship, he could read Zhao Yicheng’s expressions effortlessly.

***

In just two months, Xu Yinsheng’s body had rapidly feminized. 

Unless Zhao Yicheng was blind, he’d have noticed.

Their unspoken pact—you don’t ask, I don’t tell—had kept their friendship intact, secrets and all.

But now, it seemed Zhao Yicheng was the first to crack.

“I have a… condition,” Xu Yinsheng admitted bitterly.

A condition triggered by his own big mouth—one that gender-bent him.

A condition that left his future uncertain.

A condition that was erasing the *20-year-old male* named Xu Yinsheng.

To Zhao Yicheng, however, this translated to, “I have pseudohermaphroditism. I’m scared. I’m helpless. I couldn’t tell anyone else.”

“You can tell me,” Zhao Yicheng said softly. 

“As your best friend, I’ll help however I can.”

His plan was simple: exploit the “best friend” card to infiltrate Yinsheng’s heart, make himself indispensable, and nurture their bond until it fermented into something else.

This was the blueprint Zhao Yicheng had spent nights perfecting.

***

The hot spring resort was built into the mountains, its sprawling complex resembling an aristocratic estate. 

The northern sector housed the open-air springs, separated into natural pools, while the southern area offered guest lodgings, connected by a quaint bridge over a stream.

The western zone featured exclusive VIP suites—fully private, staff-free, designed for wealthy patrons to unwind (or entangle) in aquatic escapades.

Steam curled in the dimly lit bathhouse.

Men lounged bare-chested in the stone-carved pools, soaking in tranquility.

Zhao Yicheng leaned back, clad only in swim trunks.

His toned pectorals glistened, his waist taut without an ounce of fat, four defined abs on display (originally six, but two had mysteriously vanished after that Christmas night—like drained “reserve energy”).

His legs were lean and muscular, exuding mature masculinity.

Yet the SVIP suite, meant for two, felt hollow with just one.

“Yinsheng still won’t confide in me…”

Zhao Yicheng frowned, stirring the water absently.

At first, he thought Xiaoyin would subtly hint at the strange physical symptoms he’d been experiencing lately.

But only the first few sentences made sense—the rest was pure nonsense, a random jumble of words strung together.

“Could it be that Xiaoyin has figured out my feelings and is using this abstract nonsense to indirectly reject me?” he muttered to himself.

Then he shook his head.

He knew exactly how dumb his best friend was.

Back in middle school, while he was studying, Xiaoyin was out playing gangster.

In high school, when he was learning about finance, Xiaoyin was busy being a spoiled rich kid.

In college, as he was planning his startup, Xiaoyin was chasing pretty girls.

You could say Xiaoyin was good at nothing but having fun.

He’d been scammed by women before, left drowning in debt, and it was only because he showed up with a stack of cash that Xiaoyin was bailed out.

There was a famous “three-month theory” when it came to romance.

The so-called “three-month love” referred to the fiery passion between new couples—that intense, burning emotion that typically lasted about three months.

During this time, both parties would be irresistibly drawn to each other, selectively ignoring flaws and even doing crazy, reckless things together.

But that passion, much like the shelf life of perishable food, would start to spoil after three months.

That once-uncontrollable emotion would gradually cool, the feelings fading as everything returned to mundanity.

The initial novelty would wear off, and once the feverish excitement settled, a sober reevaluation of the relationship would reveal that many things weren’t as they seemed.

Even the flaws that had been overlooked during the honeymoon phase would resurface—sometimes magnified—making it impossible to continue.

From a physiological perspective, the initial rush of romance was linked to chemical secretions in the brain.

When hormones like dopamine, norepinephrine, and phenylethylamine were released in large quantities, they induced excitement, rapid heartbeat, and other symptoms—intensifying the sensations and perceptions of love.

At the same time, these hormones clouded judgment, creating bias and obsession while dulling rational thought.

Zhao Yicheng knew Xu Yinsheng had plenty of flaws—argumentative, all talk, sharp-tongued, sometimes opening his mouth just to invite a punch.

And those were the mild ones.

Reckless, scummy, downright vile.

It was only in the last two months that he hadn’t caused any trouble.

Before that?

New girlfriend in the morning, street racing by noon, throwing parties with college girls in the afternoon.

Never committing major crimes, but petty mischief nonstop.

Though gold could never be pure, and no person was perfect, Zhao Yicheng understood that the Xu Yinsheng he loved was just an ordinary person with both flaws and virtues.

Still, he wished Xiaoyin would behave better around him—be more obedient, more docile, like a tamed “cat” at home.

Beep beep, beep beep—

The sudden ringing of his phone snapped him out of his thoughts.

Zhao Yicheng picked up the waterproof pouch beside him and answered.

A young man’s voice came through the line, tinged with deference.

“Boss, the sample you brought last time has been analyzed. The bio team suspects it’s an unknown type of aphrodisiac currently on the market.”

A pause.

“It carries a risk of fatality.”