Chapter 156 Chapter 157 The Radiant Charm
Jima put down her hands, pulling Enlek out of his dream. He looked dazed, and as he relaxed his grip, the test tube fell. Jima quickly caught it, placed it in the basket, and then stuffed it back into her dimensional space bag at her waist.
Enlek bent over, hands on his knees, staring at the pink potion scattered on the floor. After leaving the test tube, the potion was emitting green smoke and rapidly evaporating.
Jima waved her hand in front of his eyes and asked, “How do you feel?”
“Not very… good.”
Jima immediately prepared to leave. If Enlek collapsed or turned into a crazed monster, she did not want to be responsible for it.
Jima asked, “How bad is it?”
If it’s really bad, I might as well frame someone else for it. I think his goddess is a good choice…
“It feels like my abdomen is cramping.” Enlek took a deep breath, his voice becoming softer, and straightened up to ask, “What side effects might there be?”
“Who knows?” Jima replied. “Quantitative change leads to qualitative change. You might turn into a four-limbed crawling monster, a raving lunatic, or a croaking frog. At that point, I just hope your family won’t come after me; you’ve ruined my great future.”
“My family… only my mother would shed tears for me; she also really likes to forgive others.” Enlek touched his waist. “I didn’t bring a pen. Let’s find someone to get a pen and paper. I’ll write a will so that others won’t blame you.”
“You really aren’t afraid of dying.”
Enlek’s expression became dazed again. “I feel… strangely indescribable, my lower abdomen is tingling, and my chest feels tight…”
His chest began to visibly swell at a noticeable speed.
“Uh…” Jima stepped back, fearing he wouldn’t hold up and turn into a monster. “If things go wrong, I’ll go call a doctor. I know a good one, nicknamed the Grim Reaper’s Nemesis—he can cure even a head alone.”
“Hey, hey.” A staff member came over and called out, “It’s your turn on stage. The audience is waiting. If you don’t want to go up, hurry and leave.”
Suddenly clear-headed, Enlek raised his head, ran his fingers through his hair, and flashed a confident and charming smile at him:
“Tell them I’m coming.”
With that, he walked towards the staff with elegant strides.
Jima watched Enlek’s retreating figure, pink cloud-like substances swirling around him; he gave her a familiar feeling, as if she were seeing another version of herself, radiating charm and enticing everyone who looked at him.
The staff member seemed mesmerized, heart racing as he watched Enlek approaching with graceful steps.
Enlek stopped beside him and smiled, “And please call me Miss Xiya.”
“Sure, okay, Miss Xiya.”
Jima was pondering if Enlek’s alter ego had awakened.
Enlek turned around, pointing at Jima with his index and middle fingers and said, “Miss Qiao, from now on, call me Xiya, Xiya Feina.”
Jima observed him carefully. If earlier he was simply a pretty boy with a beautiful exterior, now he radiated feminine charm from the inside out.
Jima nodded, “Okay… okay.”
Enlek—Xiya said, “Thank you.”
With that, he walked towards the stage, and Jima anxiously followed.
The staff watched Xiya’s departing back, and long after Xiya disappeared, he snapped back to reality, looking down to see the bulge beneath him, embroiled in intense self-doubt about his sexual orientation.
At the junction between the backstage and the stage, a red-haired noble girl and her maid leaned against the wall, waiting.
Xiya could see the jealousy sparkling in the red-haired noble girl’s eyes as she smiled and said,
“Enlek, you do look the part.”
Xiya walked over and asked, “Tisnali, did you do this?”
“It’s the citizens of Marin City.” The red-haired noble girl puffed out her chest, “You should give up now—”
Xiya suddenly pressed her shoulder, pinning her against the wall, their noses nearly touching, “I won’t give up, because I’m the most beautiful woman in the whole city.”
The maid was caught off guard; in her impression, Enlek had always been a submissive man in front of her lady.
The red-haired noble girl regained her composure and laughed, “You? A man?”
Xiya slapped her cheek lightly and said, “The whole city will go crazy for me.”
With that, he released her and walked towards the noisy stage.
The red-haired noble girl watched his figure, leaning against the wall, her white chest rising and falling.
Below the stage, the audience united in a chant: “Pervert, get off the stage! Pervert, get off the stage! Pervert, get off the stage!”
It began as a scattered, disorganized chant, but intensified with each wave, building into a tsunami of sound that overwhelmed the anxious host.
Only Xiya’s father remained calm. He had a dark complexion and crossed arms. The muscular dockworkers around him also crossed their arms, their muscles tensed, ready for any violent action.
As the focal point of the evening, Xiya finally appeared, striding confidently toward the audience with open arms, welcoming the wave of sound crashing towards him:
“Pervert, get off the stage!”
Xiya tilted his head back and sang, “The waves crash! Crash!…”
A soaring, clear soprano filled the air, countering the crowd’s outcries. He had been interested in opera since childhood (until his father hired an opera teacher for him), and after years of strict training in opera, he had performed in theaters in the imperial capital, earning acclaim from many opera performers.
What he was singing was the famous “Ode to the Sea.”
His powerful voice and graceful posture made him radiate charm; it was as if the world darkened, and all the dazzling starlight in the night sky focused on him, shining only on him. The dark red stain on the hem of his skirt also became beautiful, like a blooming rose.
The judges exchanged glances. The previously strict judges, leaning back in their chairs with their eyes closed enjoying the audience’s condemnation, were suddenly startled into opening their eyes, captivated by Xiya’s fair neck.
Some watched him in a daze, forgetting to shout. Others felt as if struck by the goddess of love, falling head over heels, their breathing growing shallower.
The audience’s once-unified chants weakened instantly.
“Crash! Crash!” Xiya continued singing with his head lifted, his voice resonating.
Some members of the audience came back to their senses, furious for having just felt stirred; he was clearly a man!
They were infuriated, veins bulging on their foreheads, fists clenched, chanting, “Pull him down!”
“Perverted freak!”
Front-row audience members raised their fists, charging toward the stage.
The situation unfolded too suddenly, and they were too close to the stage. Jenna had been on guard against Xiya’s father, and far water couldn’t reach the fire.
Seeing a dozen furious audience members waving their fists and rushing toward the stage, Xiya showed no fear; his song remained undeterred, and he continued to sing with his eyes closed.
Jenna anxiously stood up, preparing to cast a spell, but couldn’t think of a way to stop the enraged audience without harming anyone.
What’s worse, Xiya’s father suddenly stood up, and the eager dockworkers quickly followed suit. Jenna shot a glance at Young Master Is, ready to overpower Xiya’s father by force.
Xiya’s father raised his arm and shouted:
“Bring that bunch of scum down! Let’s see who dares to touch my son!”
Suddenly, a group of dockworkers charged forward, pulling down the agitated audience members. A few who had just climbed onto the stage were yanked down by several muscular arms. They formed a human wall in front of the stage, waving their fists in warning at those wanting to rush up.
Tears welled in the corners of Xiya’s eyes, a single tear pooling there as she didn’t have time to wipe it away; opera singers needed to express their emotions not only through voice but also through movement.
The audience sat back down, continuing to watch. Some were angry but dared not speak loudly, murmuring, “Perverted freak.”
Xiya’s father sat down, sighed, and wiped his glasses with a handkerchief.
As Xiya’s performance neared its end, even without the accompaniment of a band, her charm, beauty, and voice deeply captivated almost everyone.
Many in the audience struggled to accept that the one they admired was a man.
“If only she were a woman.”
“She must be a woman; a man’s voice can’t be like that.”
“Maybe it’s just a rumor; she’s a woman.”
Hearing the whispers from others, Xiya’s father shook his head, muttering to himself, “If only I had a daughter, she wouldn’t have to suffer so much.”
With the last note falling, the venue fell silent. Xiya forced many into an impossible situation; everyone felt that she was more beautiful and charming than the previous red-haired noble girl.
But she was a man.
The staff member holding the ceramic jar came down; many tightly clutched the shards of pottery in their hands, gazing into the dark jar opening, hesitating and conflicted.
If they admitted it and voted for her, wouldn’t that mean proving they were gay? What would their wives think? What would the neighbors think? What would their family and friends think?
What would the stray dogs and cats on the street think?
The judges shook their heads, planning to give a four or three—though they felt it deserved a five, giving a full score would mean publicly admitting they were gay.
“Five points!” A strict judge raised his card and shouted, “I give five points.”
The judges contemplated but managed to suppress their urge to give five points. Although some were willing to take the lead, who could overlook the fact that Xiya was a man?
From the audience came a wave of boos. Although they all felt the impulse to throw their shards of pottery, they looked at each other, forming a strange kind of supervision.
No one dared to throw their shards, fearing being labeled as gay.
The staff member walked around with the jar; there was only one shard inside, thrown by Xiya’s father, who said, “My son is no worse than that woman!”
In this deathly silence, Xiya smiled wryly, recalling the earlier joke she made with Qiao about tearing off her shirt after the competition, revealing a man’s chest to shock the audience.
I might as well strip naked, let them know I’m actually infatuated with men.
As Xiya’s fingers grasped the collar of her shirt, preparing to pull it off…
In the back, leaning against the wall, Jima clapped her hands and said, “Xiya is a woman; that makes perfect sense. This rumor has come true.”
No sooner had she spoken, Xiya yanked open her collar with her eyes closed, facing the audience as they screamed in shock, like a group of startled monkeys.
Xiya closed her eyes, ready to accept the insults, when she heard someone happily shout, “She’s a woman! She’s a woman!”
“Rumors! Rumors!”
“It’s a twist!”
“Take your eyes off my daughter’s chest!”
