Tòumíng biked down the street, the evening air whipping past his face, fifty thousand yuan distributed across his body in cash, another one hundred forty-five thousand sitting in his Alipay account, and absolutely zero thoughts about potential dangers ahead.
His route home took him through a small entertainment district, the kind that thrived after dark, catering to specific clientele with specific needs and absolutely zero shame about it. Neon signs advertised karaoke bars, massage parlors with suspiciously vague services, and clubs that promised "VIP experiences" without clarifying what that meant.
The street was lined with workers. Girls in extremely short skirts and tops that defied both gravity and decency standards, their makeup applied with what could only be described as aggressive enthusiasm. Platform heels that added six inches to their height. Hair teased and sprayed into elaborate structures that probably required engineering degrees to construct.
Mixed among them were the "alcohol buddies" people you could pay to drink with you if you were lonely or sad or just wanted someone to pretend to find your stories interesting. The concept seemed idiotic to Tòumíng. Why would you pay someone to drink with you? Just drink alone like a normal person.
But his newly acquired gooner brain, trained by two weeks of unlimited internet access and gacha games with questionable character designs, couldn't help but look. His eyes tracked across the street, taking in the various workers advertising their services with varying degrees of subtlety.
One figure caught his attention immediately.
She was holding a hand-written sign that read: "PLEASANT SURPRISE - HAPPY ENDING"
Tòumíng had no idea what that meant. Pleasant surprise could be anything. Happy ending sounded nice though. Everyone liked happy endings.
He slowed down slightly, his bike decelerating as his eyes locked onto her. She was hot. Objectively hot. Tall, with long legs emphasized by short shorts and heels. A crop top that showed a flat, toned stomach. Long hair cascading over shoulders. Face done up with makeup that was heavy but skillfully applied.
Although... she didn't really have any tits. That was kind of weird. The top was padded, clearly, but even accounting for that, the chest was notably flat. But hey, he'd seen something called "tomboys" in his internet travels. Girls who dressed more masculine, had athletic builds, smaller chests. It made sense. Kinda. Sort of.
"Wow," Cupid's voice dripped with disappointment. "Now you're going for femboys as well? Your taste is really expanding."
Tòumíng's brain short-circuited. "What? That's OBVIOUSLY a girl!"
"That's a man."
"No way. Look at her! The hair, the makeup, the legs—"
"I can see information about people around you. It's part of my whole deal. That is a guy. Male. Man. Not a woman."
"You're wrong!" Tòumíng insisted, his eyes still locked on the figure. "Guys don't have big asses like that! That HAS to be a girl. Your info thing must be broken."
"My info thing is not broken."
"Then it's glitching. Making a mistake. There's no way—"
But doubt was creeping in now. The more he looked, the more certain details started standing out. The shoulders were a bit broader than typical. The hands, visible now as she—he?—adjusted the sign, were slightly larger. The jawline, beneath all that makeup, had a certain angularity.
Tòumíng couldn't leave it alone. The need to know, to confirm, to prove Cupid wrong (or right, which would be worse), overrode all common sense.
He hopped off his bike and walked over, his heart pounding for reasons he didn't want to examine too closely.
"Are you a guy?"
He asked it directly, half-expecting an offended "Fuck no" or maybe a slap for the audacity of asking. Instead, the person smiled a knowing, slightly mischievous smileand leaned in close.
"Meet me in that alley and find out."
The voice was... ambiguous. Breathy and high-pitched but not quite female. Or maybe it was female? God, Tòumíng couldn't tell anymore.
This HAD to be some type of scam, right? Meet someone in an alley after dark in the entertainment district? That was textbook "how to get robbed" behavior. Every survival instinct he'd developed growing up in the slums was screaming warnings.
But he was too invested now. The need to know had consumed all rational thought.
Tòumíng wheeled his bike toward the indicated alley, a narrow space between two buildings lit only by a distant streetlight. The person followed, heels clicking on pavement, that smile still playing at the corners of their mouth.
They stepped into the shadows.
And immediately, without preamble or warning, the person lifted their crop top and pulled down their shorts slightly.
That was definitely a dick.
"That answer your question?" The voice was playful now, clearly male when not trying to modulate it higher. The person the ladyboy, apparently that was the term stuck his tongue out in a gesture that was somehow both cute and deeply unsettling given the context.
Tòumíng's jaw had disconnected from his face. He stood there, frozen, unable to form words or thoughts or any coherent response to what had just happened. His brain was just static. Pure, white noise static.
The ladyboy fixed his clothes, winked, and sauntered past Tòumíng back toward the street.
Thirty seconds passed. Maybe a minute. Time had lost all meaning. Tòumíng remained frozen in the alley, staring at the wall, processing absolutely nothing.
Finally, motor function returned. He walked out of the alley like a zombie, his movements mechanical, his expression blank.
The sign the ladyboy had been holding was on the ground, abandoned. "PLEASANT SURPRISE - HAPPY ENDING" mocked him from the pavement.
And his bike was gone.
Tòumíng's brain rebooted just in time to see a figure riding away on his electric bike, long hair flowing behind them, gaining distance rapidly.
The ladyboy looked back over his shoulder, grinning, and called out in a voice that carried clearly through the evening air: "Thanks for the bike, cutie! Check the back—my number's there!"
He blew a kiss and disappeared around a corner.
Tòumíng stood there, hands at his sides, fifty thousand yuan in cash distributed across his body, his mouth hanging open, watching his two-thousand-eight-hundred-yuan electric bike vanish into the distance.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
The scream ripped out of his throat, echoing down the street. People turned to look. The other workers on the street exchanged knowing glances and went back to their business. This clearly wasn't the first time someone had gotten their bike stolen in this exact way.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
His knees hit the pavement. His hands grabbed at his hair, pulling it in frustration and disbelief and the dawning realization of what had just happened.
"I told you it was a guy," Cupid said, somehow managing to sound both sympathetic and deeply amused.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"