As deep autumn set in, a persistent, gloomy rain began to fall.
The drizzling rain pattered softly against Bai Xia’s umbrella as she walked along the community’s sidewalk.
A faint, watery mist imbued the slightly desolate atmosphere, making everything around her appear indistinct and dreamlike.
Suhua, a city steeped in history, was renowned throughout the land for its picturesque landscapes and elegant gardens.
As the saying went, ‘mountains and waters nurture people,’ and the land of Suhua, indeed blessed with outstanding individuals, was famed for producing exceptionally handsome men and beautiful women.
As a native-born resident, Bai Xia herself possessed remarkable beauty: a fair complexion framed by a pair of large, lustrous eyes, a delicate nose, and rosy lips.
Her neatly trimmed short hair gave her an inherently docile appearance, which, combined with her thin-rimmed black glasses, lent her an air of a sophisticated literary girl.
Yet, her physique was undeniably petite.
Barely exceeding 1.5 meters in height, with a chest that was only subtly developed, who would ever guess, without being told, that the owner of this body was already twenty years old?
In fact, she had recently been mistaken for a middle school student while out shopping.
A sigh escaped Bai Xia’s lips as these thoughts crossed her mind.
However, her concern wasn’t truly about her height or her underdeveloped chest.
While a ‘normal’ woman would undoubtedly fret over such matters, Bai Xia, regrettably, was not one.
Not that she was abnormal, per se; rather, she wasn’t a woman at all.
More accurately, she wasn’t the ‘Bai Xia’ she appeared to be.
She had awakened abruptly within this body only half a month prior, initially convinced that she was merely dreaming.
It was an impossible situation to accept; after all, waking up to find oneself transformed into a young girl was simply too fantastical.
Anyone she told would undoubtedly dismiss it as a mere joke.
Moreover, the transformation wasn’t limited to her body; the entire world had diverged completely from the one she remembered.
For instance, the city of Suhua, where she currently resided, held no place in Bai Xia’s memories whatsoever.
While it might align with her recollection of Suzhou, this world, paradoxically, had no such city.
Beyond these geographical and urban alterations, the world’s technology had also surpassed anything in her memory, leading Bai Xia to initially believe she had traveled into the future.
Yet, superficially, this ‘future world’ didn’t appear drastically different from her recollections.
At most, the vehicles on the streets had transformed into fully autonomous maglev cars, and people’s communication devices were now highly futuristic ‘Skycoms’.
Humans hadn’t sprouted wings or achieved immortality, and while the streets certainly featured numerous robots maintaining order and managing shops, alongside various functional holographic projections, none of it seemed as exaggerated as depicted in science fiction films.
“So, it’s already 9012, yet why must I still personally go downstairs to retrieve a package? Shouldn’t it sprout legs and leap directly into my arms?!”
Bai Xia grumbled, though she understood that the fault lay not with this world, but simply with her current impoverished state.
After all, the world she remembered already offered home delivery, and this world was naturally capable of the same.
It even allowed smart assistants to sign for and receive packages when the owner was away, making it incredibly convenient.
The sole reason she was compelled to go downstairs for her package was her residence in an old district, within a very antiquated residential building where the distribution of residents was somewhat intricate.
Consequently, this particular area simply did not offer home delivery services.
There was no other option; poverty, she realized, was the original sin!
A pang of ‘stomach ache’ (TL Note: A Chinese idiom referring to a feeling of discomfort or regret, often metaphorical) seized Bai Xia at this thought.
In her previous life, though she was a ‘corporate s*ave’ (TL Note: A common Chinese slang term, ‘shè chù,’ for an overworked office worker), her monthly salary had been quite substantial.
After indulging in good food and drink, she would still have ample funds remaining to spend on gacha games, collectible figures, and toys.
Waking up as a young girl was one thing—a ‘legal loli’ (TL Note: A Japanese-derived slang term referring to a character who appears to be a child but is legally an adult), after all, was a national treasure-level rare resource.
However, being this destitute was utterly disheartening!
Moreover, this appearance made finding a job truly challenging.
If she were to apply for work, people would likely assume she had simply taken a wrong turn on her way to kindergarten.
Lolis were undeniably cute, but becoming one herself was a far less adorable prospect.
‘Could this, she wondered, be the very reason the original owner had been so impoverished?’
A sigh escaped her once more.
Despite her helplessness, Bai Xia found herself without any viable solutions.
She had checked earlier: the money the original owner possessed could, at most, sustain her for about a month given this world’s cost of living.
Already, nearly half a month had elapsed.
There was absolutely no trace of her parents; perhaps the original owner had been an orphan all along?
Thus, if she couldn’t devise a means to earn money and support herself within the next half-month, she might very well have to resort to ’round corner’ (TL Note: A Chinese euphemism, ‘yuán jiǎo,’ referring to prostitution, often implying transactional encounters for money).
Considering the ‘legal loli’ attribute, coupled with her adorably cute appearance, perhaps if she were to go ’round corner’… Wait, absolutely not!
She couldn’t even entertain such a thought!
‘Bai Xia, you are a true man, standing tall… Alright, a true loli, then.
In any case, you absolutely cannot succumb to such depravity!’
Vigorously shaking her head, Bai Xia swiftly cast aside every wicked thought that dared to surface in her mind.
Though this body was not her own, she couldn’t bring herself to debase it so casually.
Furthermore, as a man of considerable stature in her past life, she found such a prospect utterly unacceptable.
So, how exactly was she to support herself?
This question, without a doubt, presented a truly vexing dilemma.
Initially, she had indeed considered numerous methods, drawing inspiration from those frequently employed by protagonists in the novels she once read: plagiarizing existing stories, singing, live streaming, or even, for the truly talented, directly producing animations or films.
Such endeavors, she knew, could instantly net a fortune and propel one to the pinnacle of success.
However, with these grand schemes now resting squarely on her own shoulders, Bai Xia could only declare… ‘I truly cannot do any of it!’
‘Firstly, even the seemingly simplest task of plagiarizing a novel was utterly impossible.
She possessed no ‘system’ (TL Note: A common trope in web novels where characters gain supernatural abilities or interfaces), nor any ‘cheat-like’ (TL Note: A literal translation of ‘jīn shǒu zhǐ,’ referring to an overpowered ability or plot device given to a protagonist) absolute memory.
To attempt to fully reproduce a novel of hundreds of thousands, or even millions, of words relying solely on recollection was, to put it mildly… ‘You must be dreaming.’
What’s more, the entertainment industry in this world was even more advanced than in her memories.
Fascinating novels, anime, films, and music poured forth endlessly.
Even if she were to genuinely transplant works from her past life, they would likely fail to create any significant ripple.
Then came activities like making videos or live streaming.
While these indeed didn’t demand extensive skills, Bai Xia, first and foremost, could neither produce videos nor sing.
As for live streaming… what would she even stream?
Huddling in a defensive squat, perhaps?’
As for anything else, it was simply preposterous.
She was truly just an ordinary person, utterly incapable of replicating the grand schemes of those novel protagonists from her memories.
“…Have I somehow offended some deity? They promised that after transmigration, I would inevitably ascend to the pinnacle of life!
Yet, in another half-month, I’ll probably be experiencing the ‘love of uncles’ (TL Note: A euphemism for being forced into transactional relationships with older men) and then drowning in milk!
Why am I so utterly miserable?
Could it be… I’m not the protagonist?”
Her steps abruptly halted.
Bai Xia suddenly felt as though she had grasped the very truth of her situation.
She stared blankly ahead, the lenses obscuring her eyes reflecting a cold, sterile light.
Fortunately, beyond being a ‘legal loli,’ the original owner also possessed an attribute known as ‘pseudo-sanwu’ (TL Note: A Japanese-derived term, ‘sanwu,’ describing a character who is emotionless, voiceless, and expressionless.
‘Pseudo-sanwu’ implies one who appears so but merely hides their true emotions).
This meant that no matter how tumultuous her inner turmoil, her outward expression remained utterly unchanged.
Otherwise, she could vividly imagine the utter collapse and despair etched upon her face at this very moment.
In that instant, Bai Xia felt a profound malice radiating from the world itself, causing an involuntary shiver to run down her spine.
As the autumn chill intensified, she couldn’t help but recall the tale of ‘The Little Match Girl’.
‘Would I… would I freeze to death this winter?’
Alright, those preceding thoughts were pure nonsense.
No matter how destitute Bai Xia became, she wouldn’t sink so low as to require matches for warmth.
However, if she failed to devise a solution soon, hunger would indeed become an unavoidable reality.
For Bai Xia, who also possessed the distinct attribute of being a ‘foodie’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term, ‘chī huò,’ referring to someone who loves food and eats a lot), this prospect was far more intolerable than even lacking a place to live.
“Therefore, I must find a job or a method to earn money as quickly as possible.
While transforming into a little girl is a bit of a ‘stomach ache’ (TL Note: A Chinese idiom referring to a feeling of discomfort or regret, often metaphorical), I certainly don’t wish to be recorded as the first transmigrator in history to die of poverty.”
Indeed, dying of poverty felt far too pathetic a demise—even more unacceptable than the transformation from a grown man into a ‘legal loli’!
Yet, she was on the verge of dying from poverty while trapped in a loli’s body.
The more she considered this, the more utterly miserable she felt.
What was she to do?
It appeared that once she returned, she would have no choice but to consult the ‘great gods’ (TL Note: A Chinese slang term for highly skilled or knowledgeable individuals, often online) of the internet.
She would simply ask: ‘Under the circumstances of suddenly transforming into a ‘legal loli,’ how does one manage to support oneself through normal means, and furthermore, live a comfortable life?’
Online, waiting for answers.
It’s quite urgent.