Chapter 1 – Six Bathrooms. How Is That Reasonable?
The afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows, falling over the man who was dozing off. Dust drifted lazily in the golden light, like a layer of crushed silver.
He was tall, so tall his legs didn’t quite fit in the chair. His T-shirt looked a bit worn, slippers on his feet, a hole in one sock, yet he didn’t look shabby at all. Somehow, even in this state, he carried a casual kind of charm.
Under the soft light, the shadows beneath his eyes showed just how little he’d slept lately.
When the waitresses walked past, they instinctively softened their steps. None of them had the heart to disturb him, but a few of the café’s furry regulars didn’t share that hesitation. Several cats leapt one after another onto his lap, their soft fur brushing against his skin and waking him up.
Blinking, Rong Jing looked down at the little meowing creatures gathered around his legs.
This was a cat café, home to all sorts of elegant, graceful felines, and each with its own personality. Anyone fond of cats would have cried out, Oh my god, this must be heaven.
But for someone allergic like Rong Jing, it was closer to hell.
He was only here because the person he was meeting had chosen this place, so he had no choice but to grit his teeth and endure.
A fluffy Chinchilla cat jumped lightly onto his lap, using a nearby stool for leverage. Rong Jing glanced down at it, then at the red rashes blooming across his arm. Before he’d nodded off, he’d already asked for some antihistamines. They just hadn’t kicked in yet.
The waitress, secretly impressed by this man’s “bravery in the name of petting cats,” gently lured the Chinchilla away. But soon after, a large orange tabby hopped onto his knees again, gazing up with a comically round face.
Seeing his rash slowly fade, Rong Jing couldn’t bring himself to push the orange cat away. When the waitress came by again, he explained, “I know the rules. I didn’t pick it up.”
In cat cafés like this, there were unspoken rules, such as no forcing cuddles, no flash photography, no feeding cats human food. The waitress asked about his allergy again and seeing he seemed fine, smiled. “They usually don’t approach guests. Must be that they’re all suckers for good looks.”
After all, who wouldn’t stare at a man this handsome, even if he looked like an ice sculpture?
Rong Jing wasn’t the most perceptive guy. His face rarely showed emotion, his words were short, and he carried himself with quiet restraint. Many mistook that for aloofness.
Three nights of bad sleep had dulled his reflexes even more. It wasn’t until the waitress refilled his drink that he finally realized what she meant and awkwardly rubbed his flushed ear.
He checked his phone. The person he was waiting for was over an hour late.
The phone was the most valuable thing he owned now. Everything else like cash, wallet, and ID had been stolen at the shelter where he’d been sleeping. Luckily, the original owner of this body had clutched the phone tightly all night, so it hadn’t been taken.
Yes, the original owner.
Because he wasn’t the real Rong Jing of this world.
When he woke up, the body’s original owner was already dead, most likely from respiratory failure due to alcohol poisoning.
Even as a rational man, Rong Jing had always thought “transmigration” was just something that happened in novels. Yet here he was, alive and breathing in a world that wasn’t his own.
For three days he’d wandered in a daze and doubting everything. This world, himself, his sanity. It wasn’t until he got a message from the body’s boyfriend that he finally pulled himself together and came to this cat café.
The guy was habitually late, so Rong Jing didn’t rush to leave.
He opened a search tab and typed SCL-90, a self-assessment test for mental health. He wanted to make sure he hadn’t gone crazy, and that he didn’t just imagine all this and conjure a second life out of thin air.
Maybe it was delusion, maybe some kind of cognitive disorder. The test couldn’t tell him everything, but it could at least show whether his brain was short-circuiting.
Modern life messed with everyone’s mind a little, after all. According to rough estimates, around 200,000 people in the country died from depression every year. Early detection could save lives. So a self-check like this wasn’t strange at all.
Ninety questions later, covering both mental and physical health, Rong Jing finished. The results made him exhale in relief.
Two categories drew his attention: Depression (F4 = 1.98), still in the normal range but barely. Probably just stress from recent events. Psychotic tendencies (F9 = 1.65), also normal.
The rest hovered between 1.58 and 2.9 which is mild to moderate, but nothing alarming.
He wasn’t mentally ill. Which indirectly confirmed one thing:
He’d really f***ing transmigrated.
This was real. Not a delusion.
What the hell? Perfectly healthy one moment, and the next *poof* new world.
The orange cat tilted its head at his blank expression, meowing softly: Mrr?
The tabby hopped off his lap, called out twice, and padded toward a gacha machine by the counter. Rong Jing couldn’t resist those pleading eyes, even if he was still reeling from his situation. He followed, scanned the QR code, and twisted out a capsule of cat treats.
Kneeling down, he scratched a few furry chins. Their soft purrs lightened his mood. Maybe this was why people loved cat cafés. It's pure therapy.
Just then, a burly man came out of the nearby restroom.
The moment the man spotted Rong Jing, he froze. Even though he’d used scent-blocking spray, facing a stronger Alpha made his posture instinctively shift.
Rong Jing blinked, still confused. His body, however, reacted before his brain did, straightening, eyes turning sharp and cool.
They locked eyes for barely a few seconds before the stranger suddenly turned pale and bolted out of the café.
Rong Jing stood there, baffled. He’d just looked back politely. What the hell was that about?
Then his gaze caught the line of restrooms the man had come from: six in total.
Yes, six.
Men A, Men B, Men O and the same for women.
His old world only had two genders. He’d lived over twenty years thinking that was the norm. And now? Six. His worldview cracked quietly into pieces.
It wasn’t going back together anytime soon.
“Six bathrooms… how is that even reasonable?” he muttered.
Looking around, he saw people: men, women, and everything in between, playing with cats. Omegas were the majority. A few blushed when they noticed his gaze. One even smiled shyly. No one thought anything strange of it.
Ah. So the unreasonable one was him.
And wait, if people came in six genders, then what about the cats…?
He turned to the furballs circling him, suspicious. “You guys aren’t Omegas too, right?”
He covered his face, fighting the urge to check. No, he wasn’t about to become the neighborhood pervert.
After feeding them the snacks, he went back to his seat. In the center of the room, several customers were crowded around a TV, gesturing excitedly but keeping their voices low since cat cafés didn’t allow noise.
Curious, Rong Jing glanced at the screen and froze. The person on it was breathtaking.
The waitress noticed his gaze and lit up. “Oh! Sir, you like Gu Xi too?”
“Gu Xi?” Rong Jing repeated, tasting the name.
ABO world. Gu Xi… why did that sound familiar?
The waitress nodded eagerly. “He’s the most gorgeous Omega around! Every Alpha agrees that he’s out of this world.”
Rong Jing, a straight man through and through, could only offer a polite smile. No matter how beautiful, a man was still a man. He had zero interest be it this life or the next.
Since his date still hadn’t shown, he humored her. “He’s an idol?”
The waitress stared like he’d just crawled out of a cave. “You don’t know him? He’s an actor!”
“He debuted as an idol, but he’s so talented fans call him an actor now,” she said proudly. “He vanished for three years, then came back with Lota’s 365 Days last year and it blew up everywhere! He played a genius skater who loses everything in a car accident. That final scene when he smiled through the despair... Ugh, I got chills.”
She caught herself rambling, bowed repeatedly. “Sorry! I got carried away.”
“It’s fine,” Rong Jing said with a small smile. But something inside him twisted uneasily. The name, the movie, it all sounded way too familiar. Like a truth hovering just behind a paper wall, one poke away.
He pulled out his phone and searched for the film.
Outside, a Maserati stopped by the curb. In the passenger seat sat a stylish Omega wearing sunglasses and a cap. The person smiled charmingly at the driver before getting out.
At the door, a staff Alpha greeted him warmly. After changing shoes, the Omega spotted Rong Jing by the window and frowned.
Rong Jing, still looking at his phone, felt a shadow fall across him. He looked up. The person he’d been waiting for had finally arrived.
The newcomer, Qi Ying, froze for a second. The man before him looked completely different, no longer meek or nervous. The timid Alpha who used to stammer around him was gone.
Shaking off the odd feeling, Qi Ying’s tone turned sharp. “Didn’t I tell you I’m in my rising career phase? Why’d you pick a seat by the window? You did this on purpose?”
What if someone took a photo?
He hadn’t even debuted yet but already acted like a big star.
Normally, Rong Jing would’ve apologized immediately. Groveling, comforting, treating him like royalty. But this time, he simply stood up, sidestepped him, and walked toward the other tables.
Qi Ying blinked. “Wait! Where are you going?”
Rong Jing looked back, genuinely confused. “Didn’t you say to change seats?”
Qi Ying, his boyfriend, technically, was a fourth-year film student, a year younger than the original Rong Jing. They’d met at a dinner, where Rong Jing had fallen head over heels and chased him relentlessly. Omegas never lacked admirers and Rong Jing was just one forgettable Alpha among many.
When Qi Ying finally agreed to date him, Rong Jing had thought he’d struck gold.
Not long after, Qi Ying signed with an agency and prepared to debut as an idol. Dating was forbidden, so he made Rong Jing promise to keep it secret. Rong Jing, pathetically devoted, had agreed without complaint.
Then came the fallout with his family, his dramatic move-out, and the night he saw Qi Ying getting into a luxury car and kissing the driver.
Heartbroken, the original Rong Jing had gone to a shelter. His stuff got stolen there, too. All he had left was his phone, clutched tight as he waited for a message that never came.
Eventually, drunk and hopeless, he’d died.
When Rong Jing woke up, it was in that same body, in a park surrounded by empty bottles.
Now, broke and bewildered, he stood in a cat café, facing the man who’d killed him, in a way.
Qi Ying watched him calmly move seats and, strangely, found his heartbeat quicken. If only he’d been this confident before…
But he quickly shoved the thought away, straightened up, and said solemnly, “Let’s break up.”
He expected tears, pleading, maybe a scene. After all, Rong Jing used to beg like his life depended on it.
Instead, Rong Jing simply replied, “Okay.”
Qi Ying froze.
To be honest, Rong Jing thought, the idea of maintaining a long-term intimate relationship with another man made every cell in his body scream NO.
They, like him, were overflowing with straight-man survival instinct.
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