The next thing he knew, he awoke inside a spacecraft. The clutter around him wasn’t ugly, it was vibrant. Pretty fabrics draped over seats, dainty shoes scattered across the floor, makeup kits and wigs stacked neatly.
The woman’s long hair now rested on a mannequin, and she herself had short, ear-length hair. She turned, her smile warm. "You are awake."
Xiaobao blinked in surprise. She looked like a handsome man now, but before she had been so beautiful. The transformation left him speechless, unsure if he was still dreaming.
He soon learned that the woman’s name was Valkyrie. She was a performer, traveling across systems with her troop, dazzling audiences with music, dance, and elaborate costumes.
She explained that she had only been at the black market to purchase fabrics when she saw him, broken and alone. "You can follow me if you want," she had said, her voice gentle but firm.
Afraid his father’s men would track him down, Xiaobao accepted. He began dressing like the performers, blending in with their colorful troop.
Though he never stepped onto the stage, he found joy in helping with the setup—arranging props, adjusting lights, and watching the magic unfold from behind the curtains.
For a year, he lived this way, surrounded by laughter and art, but not a day passed without thoughts of his brother. He dreamed of finding Yu Xi, of bringing him into the troop, of building a happy family together.
But dreams shattered quickly. One night, their ship was ambushed by pirates. Chaos erupted, screams filled the air, and blood stained the floor. Xiaobao froze in terror, his body trembling. Valkyrie shielded him, just as his brother once had, shoving him into the safe room and locking the door.
The sounds outside were deafening—gunfire, shouts, the clash of steel. Then came Valkyrie’s groan, low and pained, followed by blood seeping beneath the door. Xiaobao’s heart clenched.
He was terrified, but he couldn’t hide anymore. Driven by desperation, he pushed the door open and rushed out, determined to protect Valkyrie, even if it cost him everything.
Just as Valkyrie was about to be shot, Xiaobao lunged forward, pulling her out of the line of fire. In that desperate moment, the blast grazed the side of his neck. It wasn’t fatal, but blood flowed freely, dripping down onto the pendant he had carried for a year.
That pendant, which had never shown a flicker of power despite countless attempts, suddenly pulsed faintly as the blood seeped into its grooves.
Xiaobao’s vision blurred, his strength fading. Valkyrie’s scream echoed in his ears as he drifted into unconsciousness.
When he woke up, the world was different. Hovering above him was a face that seemed familiar, so much so that in his daze he whispered, "Brother..."
But as his vision cleared, he saw it was not Yu Xi. It was an older man, silver-haired, his face lined and withered. The man’s voice was steady, filled with authority and warmth. "I am your grandpa."
From that moment, everything changed. The pendant had activated within range, summoning an unmarked fleet that surrounded the pirates and crushed their assault.
Xiaobao broke down, crying uncontrollably in his grandfather’s arms, refusing to let go. "Find my brother," he begged.
His grandfather wasted no time, retracing Xiaobao’s steps. He discovered where Gander had been hiding. But Gander, realizing the danger, had already moved everything.
The cruel twist was that Yu Xi never knew. He and the others had been sedated and relocated, kept in a new prison. All this time, Yu Xi believed he was still in the same place, but he wasn’t. The truth was far more sinister.
Their grandfather searched high and low, chasing whispers and shadows, but Gander remained elusive.
Valkyrie, though scarred terribly in the pirate attack, survived. Her face bore wounds that would take years to heal, but she carried herself with strength, joining them alongside the surviving members of her troop.
It was during this time that Xiaobao finally saw what his mother looked like. Her image, preserved in portraits and belongings, revealed a beauty that stunned him. He saw himself reflected in her features—the curve of her jaw, the softness of her eyes—and felt a sudden, aching connection to a woman he had never met but always longed for.
He touched her jewelry, delicate pieces that shimmered faintly, and ran his fingers over the clothes kept in a room frozen through time. The fabrics still held her essence, a reminder of what had been lost.
Losing his mother violently, never having the chance to meet her, left a void in Xiaobao’s heart. That emptiness unconsciously shaped his affinity for feminine expression, a way of keeping her spirit alive within himself.
Seeing her image, so strikingly similar to his own, became a catalytic moment of recognition—an awakening of identity, grief, and belonging all at once.
It bridged the gap between the person Xiaobao had been and the parent he never knew, dissolving the ache of being an isolated self. His final transition, long foreshadowed by his quiet comfort in women’s clothing, was no longer just a personal choice, it became a sacred act of remembrance and embodiment.
Each gesture, each garment, each step forward was a thread woven into the tapestry of his mother’s memory. He didn’t simply transition; he completed a familial circuit, becoming the living, joyful continuation of a life that had been tragically cut short.
The final state of feeling "whole and happy" was not a break from his past but the resolution of grief and longing. His identity was the ultimate tribute, a way of carrying her forward in him.
That day, when he walked out of his mother’s bedroom dressed in her preserved clothes, his grandfather sat in a daze, drunk and confused. His eyes widened, and he whispered her name, believing for a fleeting moment that his daughter had returned.
Xiaobao stood there, not as a ghost but as a bridge her spirit alive in him, her legacy embodied, her love carried forward. In that moment, the past and present finally touched, and the void was filled.