A Strange Confession

After dinner, the Goddess helped me with the dishes while Ling Chen watched TV in the living room.

With Bai An An by my side, an apron tied around her, exuding the aura of a dutiful wife, a single phrase suddenly popped into my mind.

A family of three.

Cough, cough, what was I even thinking…?

“Ling Jiu, what’s wrong? Is there something on my face?”

“No… nothing.”

Having been secretly gazing at the Goddess, I had inadvertently stared, so I guiltily turned my head away.

“Wait, Ling Jiu, turn your head back.”

I turned my head back, and Bai An An suddenly leaned in close to me. The delicate fragrance of orchids, characteristic of a young girl, wafted into my nostrils.

“You have a grain of rice on your face.”

Bai An An smiled as she brushed the grain of rice from my lips. Her sudden intimate gesture ignited a fiery warmth within me, and my ears began to burn.

I took a deep breath, striving to calm my restless heart.

At present, the Goddess and I were best friends. I couldn’t let her see me in such a shy, almost virginal state.

When the atmosphere grew awkward, it was crucial to find a topic to ease the tension. But what should we discuss?

Neither Bai An An nor I were fond of gossip. To be honest, if the Goddess hadn’t reached out to me, I likely wouldn’t have used any social applications at all.

I was a strange person; while I relished the convenience of the internet, I also resisted it.

When I realized my “self” was being reshaped by the online world, I developed an aversion to this very world my spirit relied upon.

Everyone was an island. The interconnected internet hadn’t managed to link these islands into a continent; instead, it exacerbated their isolation.

Ultimately, the internet was merely a tide. When the tide rose, we could all swim within it, but once it receded, all our lingering memories would be mercilessly washed away.

Why was I rambling so much? Because I yearned to shout to this era of isolated hearts:

“Death Stranding is a masterpiece! Kojima is the best in the world!”

Cough, cough. I suddenly felt a strong desire to discuss game art with the Goddess, to explore the connections between people. Unfortunately, it seemed she didn’t play games, making her unable to comprehend the spiritual world of a gaming enthusiast like me.

Alas, how should I strike up a conversation with the Goddess? I had never interacted with her in such a situation before. Our usual conversations were quite mundane, revolving around movies and literature. To chat with the Goddess, I had been forced to become a cultured youth.

Perhaps we could talk about recent films?

Some domestic movies were a source of pure joy for me. I might as well discuss that fantasy romance sci-fi action film, which had a three-hundred-million investment, with the Goddess.

Just as I was caught in this dilemma, the Goddess spoke first.

“Ling Jiu, I suddenly have a strange thought.”

“What is it?”

She tilted her head, a hint of confusion flickering in her eyes.

“Why do I feel like you used to be a boy, Ling Jiu?”

“Eh?”

The Goddess’s question threw me into a panic. Could she still retain her past memories?

She lowered her head, self-deprecatingly saying, “Perhaps it’s just my imagination. I had a dream last night where you were male. But when I woke up, I found it somewhat amusing. We have such a good relationship, yet in my dream, I saw you as a man. What could that possibly mean?”

My inner devil whispered in my ear: Tell her the truth!

But another inner angel rationally advised me: Stay calm. Revealing yourself so easily is not a good thing.

I pressed my lips together, hesitating to speak. “Actually…”

[Sister.]

Ling Chen’s voice resonated in my mind.

[This is a crucial decision point, you know. To confess or to continue hiding the truth.]

[To maintain the current relationship, or to revert to the past, Sister must consider this carefully.]

[Even if you start over, you only get one chance.]

Ling Chen’s words calmed me.

That’s right. The Goddess might notice some clues, but she wouldn’t doubt her memories. I had always been a girl, her best friend.

A lie, repeated a hundred times, would eventually become “truth.” Although maintaining a lie required more lies to cover it, for me, it was worth it.

I was selfish. I cherished this fabricated “best friend” relationship, and thus, I intended to continue the deception.

I no longer wished to pursue the truth; I had already experienced the chilling loneliness of such a lofty truth.

The Goddess coming to visit me had shifted some of my perspectives.

I no longer wanted to be a simp; being one in this manner was meaningless.

If one didn’t truly love, who would willingly become a simp?

More than friends, less than lovers—this was a rather perfect space.

There was no need to worry about unrequited feelings, nor about losing everything if I let go.

Even if it was a superficial sisterhood, at least the outward affection could be maintained.

Winning someone’s heart was incredibly difficult. It was better to choose a superficial, contractual relationship.

For instance, once married, could love truly be guaranteed not to sour?

Yet, precisely because they were spouses, they could muddle through.

Being best friends was far easier than becoming lovers. Why not embrace it?

I was Ling Jiu. At least in front of the Goddess, I had to be Ling Jiu.

As I was now, I was determined to embark on the path of a fulfilling life.

Thus, I spoke in a joking tone, “Could it be that you… like me a little?”

Bai An An seemed to take my joke seriously, her tone somewhat uncertain. “Perhaps.”

“Huh?”

What was going on? The script wasn’t supposed to go like this.

Wouldn’t this confirm that we were a yuri couple?

This wouldn’t do.

Though I might joke about “getting gay” with the Goddess, my sexual orientation was still normal.

Not all same-s*x affection could be called love; some were merely a yearning for security or dependence.

Those who claimed all same-s*x relationships were “true love” were merely stirring up trouble; they fundamentally misunderstood the true nature of those emotions.

However, upon closer thought, I felt something was amiss. Since my sexual orientation was normal, I should like girls. But I was currently a girl, and as a straight girl, I couldn’t be in a yuri relationship.

Date a man?

The thought made me feel somewhat nauseated.

After all, I was a straight man of steel! Rather than that, I might as well consider Ling Chen my boyfriend. He was my younger brother, and also another version of myself. That way, it would be “keeping the wealth within the family,” so to speak.

Wait, wouldn’t that just be me dating myself again?

This inexplicable entanglement made me feel rather irritated.

I realized I simply couldn’t comprehend the true nature of human emotions.

Perhaps it was my inherent lack of empathy. I felt nothing for tragedies or comedies, for I believed these things simultaneously occurred in my own life.

My confusion was so profound that I began to question whether my feelings for the Goddess were truly “love.”

She looked at me earnestly, her voice soft. “Ling Jiu, if I said I liked you, would you accept me?”

I froze.

In that instant, it was as if a barrage of bullet comments floated before my eyes, all filled with rows of question marks.

Oh god, could someone explain what kind of development this was?

Could it be…?

My spring was coming?

Comrades, I now declare that this novel shall be renamed “My Harem Life with the Goddess After Becoming a Girl.”

I was the ultimate winner!