Gu Xue lay face-down on the bed and shouted once more. After staring at her phone for a while, she finally dragged herself up, opened the door, and went downstairs.
Ever since discovering three days ago that she had turned into a girl, she would only leave her room after Gu Rou had gone out—washing up, eating, and taking care of basic bodily needs only then.
Staying in her room for three days didn't mean she hadn't eaten or drunk anything, or that she hadn't taken a single step outside.
She couldn't manage that anyway.
She used to watch TV dramas where the protagonist stayed in their room for two days and one night straight, never coming out, not sleeping at all—just sitting there blankly on a chair, smoking cigarette after cigarette.
Total bullshit.
Even if you don't eat or drink, what about basic bodily functions?
If you're really that hardcore, you might as well become a pretty idol girl.
Well… now that it was actually happening to her, Gu Xue kind of wished she were an idol…
Back when she used to consume those brain-rotting works, her mind was full of all sorts of weird fantasies. Now, when dealing with basic bodily needs, her mind was filled with nothing but shame so strong she wanted to die.
She wished she could jump off a building on the spot.
Even when brushing her teeth the day before yesterday, she'd instinctively turn her head away, unwilling to look at the mirror. In short—she still hadn't fully accepted it.
But some things had to be adapted to.
Today, while brushing her teeth, Gu Xue stared straight into the mirror and carefully examined her own appearance.
She's really beautiful…
The moment those three words surfaced in her mind, Gu Xue immediately cut herself off, aggressively brushing her pearly white teeth before rinsing, washing her face, and heading out.
The food on the dining table was still steaming. It seemed Gu Rou already knew her sister would come down to eat after she left, so she hadn't bothered to clean up.
Gu Xue quickly finished her meal, filled her stomach, and washed the dishes as well.
Then she sat down on the sofa and started scrolling through her phone.
Most of Earth's social media apps had near-identical "substitutes" in this world. Staying home alone wasn't boring at all—dumb internet users existed in every world, and dumb memes were still hilarious.
Just as Gu Xue was scrolling so enthusiastically that she forgot everything else—curling up unconsciously in the corner of the sofa, hugging her round thighs and shifting into a more comfortable position to look at memes—a notification suddenly popped up on her social app, catching her attention.
The message was simple: come to work.
Three days ago, the shock of her transformation had been too much, so Gu Xue hid in her room to calm down. When someone messaged asking why she hadn't shown up at work, she casually made up an excuse about being sick and brushed it off.
And now that she thought about it—today was the last day. She had to go back to work.
"I'm only nineteen. Is staying up late every day and burning my life away really a good idea…"
Gu Xue sighed. She said that, but still decided to go check out her workplace in the evening. There were two reasons: first, she was curious about the animation production standards of this world; second—
She liked animation.
Even though she constantly complained in her head that doing animation was a dead end.
She loved it.
Otherwise, what kind of idiot would do this kind of work, staying up late and grinding themselves into dust every day?
Animation production was basically an assembly line. Once one step was done, you immediately moved on to the next. If any stage got stuck—say, key animation falling behind schedule—then every process after it would be affected. At that point, what the hell were you lining, cutting, or coloring?
Once a single episode ran into trouble, all subsequent episodes' workflows would pile up. TV stations wouldn't delay broadcasts—one episode per week was mandatory. Deadlines got tighter and tighter, and overworking yourself into exhaustion became routine.
"Hopefully this world won't be too bad."
After replying to the message, Gu Xue planned to go upstairs and get some proper sleep.
Animation studios usually started work in the late afternoon or early evening.
The company Gu Xue worked at was no exception—it started at five in the afternoon. And Gu Xue was a… key animator.
…
In the afternoon, Gu Xue was woken up by her alarm. She went downstairs, tidied herself up a bit, glanced at her T-shirt and shorts, then decided to take a shower and change clothes.
More than ten minutes later, she came out of the bathroom wearing sportswear—winter sportswear at that—wrapped up from head to toe.
She felt like her gaze would get drawn to her long legs… and that other people's gazes would be drawn too, which made her feel awkward.
That was why Gu Xue chose those clothes and bundled herself up so tightly. But the moment she put them on, she regretted it.
It was the end of July—the hottest time of the year. Wearing a jacket was tolerable indoors, but once she stepped outside, she'd want to die.
"What am I even afraid of…"
Gu Xue sighed, took off the jacket, tied her long hair into a single ponytail, grabbed her phone, earphones, and keys, turned off the air conditioner, and headed out.
She took the train and got off after two stops, quickly arriving at the company entrance.
The animation studio Gu Xue worked at was called Snakehead—roughly meaning "black fish." She had no idea what kind of message that name was supposed to convey.
The company was considered young in the industry. It started out doing outsourced work, later independently produced a few anime, had a breakout hit, but most of its works received mediocre responses. In recent years, it had been on a downward slope.
Last year, in a single quarter, they launched four projects at once—all light-novel adaptations. Viewers were shocked, and then… most episodes ended up being outsourced to other studios. Three of those projects had quality so bad it was painful to watch.
This year, they'd finally gotten smarter. In July, they only took on two projects.
One was a manga adaptation—a major project backed by the powerhouse publisher Shueisha—handled by the company's core creative team and main staff.
The other one was still a light-novel adaptation.
Its title was:
"My Right Leg Is Missing a Big Toe, But That's Not a Toe—It's the Holy Sword."
The sheer stench of garbage leaked out from the title alone…
Low budget, short schedule, completely casual internal production. Most of the main staff were newcomers—forced into their positions. There was no way the quality could possibly be good.
It was the kind of anime meant to be sacrificed.
Unfortunately, Gu Xue was a key animator on that project…
When she thought about all this on the train, Gu Xue nearly turned around and went back home.
What the hell is this?
Rationally speaking, Gu Xue knew this project—this "missing toe" nonsense—was pure trash. If her name appeared in the ending credits, it might become a black mark on her career. Better to forget it.
Her predecessor—no, she herself—had stayed in this company before because her skills weren't good enough and she needed experience. But now? She could absolutely find a better studio, or just become a freelance key animator.
But when humans make decisions, rationality is often completely useless.
Especially for women.
And Gu Xue was a woman too—at least on the outside.
She was still deeply curious about the animation production standards of this parallel world.
So she stood at the company entrance, preparing to walk inside.