Suddenly Became a Boy – What Should I Do? - Chapter 64.1

At some point, Li Li stopped spotting Ying Lun’s shadow in the corners of her photos. While she was relieved at his self-imposed disappearance, every time she glanced at the Photoshop shortcut on her desktop, a faint feeling of untapped potential surfaced. Her editing skills, honed through years of meticulous touch-ups and retouching practice, were sharp enough for a part-time gig at a photo studio.

Meanwhile, Lin Xin had begrudgingly grown accustomed to living among his overly infatuated roommates. Despite actively planning to move out of the dorm in a few days, his body had developed an almost animalistic ability to fend off their mischief. What once required sudden, sharp turns to catch Zhang Yun and He Xiangtong’s wandering hands could now be intercepted with instinctive defensive maneuvers. Whether it was a swift slap to his chest upon waking or a downward kick to fend off grabby hands near his thighs, the results were often punctuated by their yelps of pain. His success rate was about as slim as winning a high-stakes lottery.

If only he could accidentally poke one of their prying eyes with his toes, he thought, life would finally be peaceful. However, today was different. The usual “off-limits” hands weren’t on his legs—they were on his face. And with considerable force.

“What the hell?!” Lin Xin shouted, clutching the unstruck side of his face and shooting upright.

“Just look at this,” replied Shang Xiaoxia, shoving her phone into his hands.

Rubbing his sleepy eyes, Lin Xin squinted at the screen, moving it closer and farther away to make sense of the words. As he read aloud, his voice grew slower with each syllable, “Sweat glistening on this cutie’s biceps… I could lick it for a year?”

“Urgh—” Lin Xin doubled over in disgust, gagging at the idea of those words coming out of his own mouth. The thought made him feel the finality of his transition, further cementing his decision to move out. “So what’s the problem here?” he asked, still dry-heaving.

“Look at the photos below,” Shang Xiaoxia replied.

“What about… these—” Lin Xin froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening in disbelief. He rubbed his eyes furiously, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“This… this…” Lin Xin stammered, pointing at the familiar faces in the photos, rendered speechless.

Snatching her phone back, Shang Xiaoxia said matter-of-factly, “Yes, it’s all real. Now tell me—what do you plan to do about it?”

Lin Xin ruffled his messy bedhead before collapsing back onto the mattress. “Let me think… let me think,” he muttered, though his mind was a chaotic jumble of thoughts screaming, I’m doomed!

Another night, another storm brewing. This time, however, he had become a viral sensation.

His photos flooded hot topics, trending boards, and even his classmates’ group chats. There were candid shots from different angles, capturing various expressions. The raw, unfiltered images highlighted his natural appearance. Objectively speaking, Lin Xin’s looks weren’t bad at all, and they certainly explained the rapid escalation of his internet fame.

Lin Xin ignored the mix of praise, sarcasm, and accusations that his sudden rise to fame was artificially boosted. What truly concerned him were the staggering, ever-growing retweet numbers.

The entire online population—at least the billions on Weibo—now knew Lin Xin as that guy. But the storm brewing beneath the surface was far from over.

Initially, netizens admired his good looks. But soon, someone recognized the backdrop of the running track and deduced his university. From there, it took only hours for his class, and even his course schedule, to be posted online. The schedule became public knowledge, resembling a theme park’s operating hours, as if inviting fans to “drop by during these times.”

Suddenly, Lin Xin’s daily routine became as publicized as a celebrity’s itinerary. Even if only a tiny fraction of his newfound admirers showed up, the university’s security guards at the gates were overwhelmed by the influx of self-proclaimed “coincidental visitors.”

If the situation had stopped there, it might have been manageable. However, Ying Lun, as the student council’s publicity minister, knew all too well the power of public perception.

Under the guise of a casual post in a popular fan forum, Ying Lun subtly planted a seed of doubt. Alongside the post, he shared an old photo of Lin Xin from his freshman year.

This single photo shifted the narrative. People began speculating about whether Lin Xin was a “product” of university transformations, likening his supposed change to cosmetic surgery. The topic resonated with students who fancied themselves as having undergone significant glow-ups, sparking heated debates. Without lifting a finger, Ying Lun watched the frenzy reach new heights.

As Lin Xin’s online popularity grew, so did the number of observant critics. It didn’t take long before someone raised the question, “Isn’t Lin Xin’s transformation a bit too drastic? Did he really get plastic surgery?”

“Shut up! It’s just the result of fitness and a change in aura!” retorted his earliest fans, who instinctively leapt to his defense. Determined to prove their point, they began comparing photos of Lin Xin’s features, hoping to demonstrate that he had simply matured. But as they zoomed in on the details, their confidence wavered.

His eyes had changed shape. His nose was sharper. His jawline had morphed from delicate and round to angular and defined. While every feature still carried traces of his former self, the changes were so pronounced that they hardly seemed natural. Slowly, the voices refuting the plastic surgery claims grew quieter, while accusations of cosmetic enhancements gained traction.

And then, someone pointed out the most glaring inconsistency of all, “There’s no way he had an Adam’s apple six months ago, right?”

Under the pressure of massive online traffic, someone who personally knew Lin Xin finally stepped forward. Sharing an old photo of themselves with Lin Xin, they dropped a bombshell—Lin Xin wasn’t a “cutie” or “hunk” as everyone thought—he was originally a girl.

The revelation sent shockwaves through the internet. Netizens swarmed to piece together Lin Xin’s history, dissecting every detail of his life. As the truth spread, lesbian communities humorously embraced the twist with chants of “We still can!” Meanwhile, most of the female netizens mourned their heartbreak.

Once Lin Xin’s past identity as a girl was confirmed, Ying Lun struck again, releasing his final blow—the damning photo of Lin Xin in mid-change, his masculine torso clearly visible. Coupled with the knowledge that Lin Xin had been living in the women’s dormitory for an entire semester, the internet erupted anew.

Though Ying Lun still didn’t know what truly happened that day, the moment he obtained the incriminating photo, his mind was made up. He conveniently forgot how Lin Xin had once been a small, girlish figure when they first met. All that mattered now was the scandalous outcome, and Ying Lun was determined to exploit it fully.

His motives were clear—he wanted to destroy Lin Xin, just as he believed Lin Xin had ruined Gu Nian. In less than 12 hours, Ying Lun had successfully executed his plan, leaving Lin Xin to face a tidal wave of nationwide scrutiny.