My Boss Transmigrated Into a Maid and I Became Gay - Chapter 32

Rainbow Doggy-Egg: So, you successfully finished the book, and you’ve decided to resign, but you still can’t let go of your boss.

That night, a troubled Lu Ying poured her heart out to Doggy-Egg, recounting everything that had happened. For once, her friend didn’t mock her; instead, she summarized the situation with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Sakura-chan: Yeah. I can vaguely feel that my feelings for her are different, but that “White Moonlight” of hers… honestly, I get upset just thinking about it.

Rainbow Doggy-Egg: From my perspective, she treats you pretty well.

Sakura-chan: I know… that’s why it’s so hard to let go QAQ.

Rainbow Doggy-Egg: What a pity. I really thought you guys would have a Happy Ending.

Sakura-chan: ??? What gave you the impression we’d have an HE?

Rainbow Doggy-Egg: You know what they say—a woman’s sixth sense.

Sakura-chan: Did your sixth sense suddenly turn into a man’s intuition for this specific prediction?

Rainbow Doggy-Egg: Don’t be like that. What if, three years from now, you’ve become an industry elite? You meet at a gala, she walks up to you, clinks her glass against yours and says, “Hi, we meet again,” and then one thing leads to another… HE!

Sakura-chan: …………

Doggy-Egg was truly a master of melodramatic tropes.

The two of them chatted nonsense for a while. Lu Ying was too restless to sleep, her mind filled with images of her time with President Jian. If only she didn’t have a White Moonlight… Lu Ying might have actually pursued a passionate office romance. But reality had no “if onlys.” They were destined to be a missed connection.

On Sunday, Sister Zhuan invited her out to eat. Lu Ying wanted to tell her about her plan to resign, but the words caught in her throat. Over the past few months, Sister Zhuan had looked out for her, shared every good opportunity, and helped her immensely with work. Lu Ying was truly grateful.

But she was afraid Sister Zhuan would ask why. She couldn’t give a convincing reason; the only things she could come up with were “I don’t want to work” or “I want to travel.” To Sister Zhuan, that would sound like a brush-off. Not knowing how to handle it, Lu Ying politely declined the invitation.

Having spent the day alone, Lu Ying drafted her resignation letter. On Monday, she arrived at the office thirty minutes early. Before Sister Zhuan arrived, she quickly polished the letter on her work computer. She had thought she’d be at this job for a long time; she hadn’t expected to be saying goodbye so soon.

The printing room was empty at this hour. She swiped her card to print, but the machine glitched and prompted a restart. After checking for paper jams, she hit the reset button. The machine would take a few minutes to reboot, and Lu Ying waited there, fearing someone else might see her resignation letter if it printed automatically while she was away.

Bored, she pulled out her phone. She scrolled through her group chats, found nothing interesting, and hesitated before tapping on Weibo. She told herself she would only look at the homepage—no private messages. But her fingers betrayed her, clicking straight into the inbox.

There was a new message from “User3981814.”

Her heart raced. She clutched her chest, struggling with herself for a moment before curiosity won out. She clicked in.

Wait… it’s this long?

Lu Ying was stunned. She expected President Jian to probe her about the Mary Sue novel again, but the woman had sent a wall of text. She had to scroll for several seconds to reach the beginning.

“Hello, Author. I’m sorry to bother you…”

Lu Ying leaned against the wall, reading every word with intense focus.

“The story begins four years ago. During that time, I went through a lot of terrible things. My mental state was at rock bottom; I even thought about ending it all. Then, one day, I saw a girl with an exceptionally warm smile in a roadside milk tea shop. She took me inside to rest, made me a lemonade to cool off, and smiled at me. She was like a ray of light in the darkness, giving me hope. After that, I went to the shop to find her almost every day, pretending to read or listen to online classes just to watch her.”

After the first paragraph, Lu Ying looked up, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

Wait… why does this plot sound so familiar?

If she remembered correctly, when she was a sophomore working part-time at a milk tea shop, she had met a sister who seemed to be in a bad mood. But that sister was definitely not President Jian—they looked completely different!

Anxious, she kept reading.

“She loved to smile. Before I met her, I was miserable every waking moment. After meeting her, just seeing her smile gave me a sense of fearless courage. With her company, I picked myself up and found a new job. To be honest, I liked her from the first moment I saw her, and I grew to love her even more as time went passed. She was a beautiful girl. Back when I was struggling, my face was covered in acne, and I wore heavy glasses. I felt insecure in front of her, so I booked laser eye surgery. But it was that surgery that made me lose contact with her entirely. When I returned, the other staff said she had resigned. I asked for her number, wanting to reach out, but then I felt that to her, I was just a regular customer—calling her might be too intrusive. Later, I missed her so much that I sent her a text, but there was no reply. I gathered my courage to call, only to find the number was out of service.”

Lu Ying felt a jolt go through her entire body.

This situation…

It really is ME!!!

After she resigned from the shop, she had focused on writing in her dorm. About a month later, a senior had come by selling campus SIM cards with a much better data plan, so she’d cancelled her old number and switched.

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap…

Is President Jian’s White Moonlight… ME?!

Lu Ying stood frozen, her thumb scrolling down the screen in a daze.

“I worked hard to become a better version of myself. Whenever I had time, I’d wander around her university gate, hoping to see her one more time. It took four whole years before I saw her again—in an interview. The position she applied for happened to be in my department. Perhaps because I’ve changed so much, she didn’t recognize me. After working together for a few months, she has always treated me as just her superior. In truth, I had planned to move to headquarters for a new project, but when she arrived, I chose to stay so I could help her master her skills and ensure she never suffered what I once did. Once she was familiar with the work, starting last month, I kept her for overtime every day to teach her the deeper skills of this profession. She has done very well, though occasionally I hear her complaining to colleagues that I’m a bloodsucker…”

The sound of the printer suddenly whirring to life startled Lu Ying so much she nearly dropped her phone. She caught it, letting out a breath of relief, and walked to the machine while reading the final part.

“I wanted to continue accompanying her growth like this. But two weeks ago, I began transmigrating to another world in my sleep. I was a maid, and the Young Mistress I had to care for looked exactly like her…”

The resignation letter was only one page; it finished printing almost instantly. The Mary Sue plot points Jian Qin mentioned were ones Lu Ying had lived through. She skimmed the rest, shoved her phone into her pocket, and stared at the letter in her hand.

President Jian had essentially confessed everything that happened in the Mary Sue world, including the fact that she couldn’t help but kiss her. She also mentioned her anxiety now that the “story” had ended.

Lu Ying was reeling. The information bomb had left her completely dazed. Who could have guessed? The White Moonlight was her!

The “White Moonlight” perfume had notes of milk and fruit—and back in college, she had been obsessed with cheese-foam tea. She always smelled like it. Everything matched.

It was insane. She remembered that sister from the shop—due to hormonal issues, her face had been covered in acne, and she’d been a bit “meaty.” But now, Jian Qin’s skin was flawless, her figure was slender, and she’d ditched the heavy glasses. No wonder she hadn’t recognized her.

Wait, she remembered telling that sister her eyes were beautiful and that she’d look even better without glasses.

So… did she get the surgery because of me?

As the pieces fell into place, a fire ignited in Lu Ying’s chest. All these years, someone had been silently loving her, and after their reunion, that person had been doing everything possible to help her grow.

Four years is enough to dim most feelings, but reading those words, Lu Ying could still feel the profound depth of her affection. After all this time, she was still that sister’s light. She was the one she loved.

Lu Ying felt the urge to cry. She clutched the resignation letter, but the thought of resigning had vanished. The “White Moonlight” she was so jealous of was herself—why on earth would she quit now! She was going to start a legendary office romance today, and nobody could stop her!

Lu Ying sniffed her stinging nose and turned to find President Jian, only for the woman herself to walk through the door at that exact moment.

Lu Ying immediately lost her nerve and blurted out, “Good morning, President Jian.”

Jian Qin offered her usual professional smile. “Morning. How was your weekend?”

Lu Ying didn’t answer. she stared at her boss, trying to look past that flawless mask to see her true heart. In the message, Jian Qin had said: “I don’t crave for her to remember me or see me as a friend; I only hope she is safe and happy, and that I can continue to stay by her side like this.”

Now, because of those words filled with love, Jian Qin’s calm expression began to fracture under Lu Ying’s intense gaze. A visible flicker of a heart-pounding reaction appeared on her face.

Lu Ying stared for so long that Jian Qin became visibly uncomfortable. Her throat bobbed as she tried to find a topic to break the awkward silence. Her eyes landed on the paper in Lu Ying’s hand. She was about to ask what she had printed when she saw the three bold words at the top.

RESIGNATION LETTER.

The words hit her like a physical blow. Jian Qin’s pupils dilated, and her composed facade finally shattered. “You’re resigning?!”

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