3

At the same time, at the security booth.

"Su Wanqing" was also prepared. Beneath the sportswear, she had donned the ivory-colored "shedding skin" again. A month of wearing it initially had made this body incredibly intertwined with Chen Mo's; now, being shrouded in the feeling of being detached as a "container" again, she felt a strange anticipation of "returning." She carefully folded Chen Mo's old clothes and placed them on the table along with his work badge. Her face was expressionless, only a world-weary calmness and a barely perceptible weariness shone deep in her eyes.

Over the past month, life as "Chen Mo" has felt more "real" than she had anticipated. The aches and pains of standing guard, the weariness of night shifts, the smell of instant noodles, the vulgar jokes of other security guards, the residents' polite or indifferent glances... these rough details filled a long-standing, empty thirst for "experience." At the same time, with astonishing calmness and adaptability, she used this inconspicuous identity to observe and gather information about another side of this world she had never truly looked down upon before. She saw more, and she thought more.

Regarding “metamorphosis,” regarding possibilities, regarding… a permanent “exchange” or a more complex “operation.”

Time is up.

The two appeared almost simultaneously in the shadows of a quiet corner near the back gate of the residential complex, where they had parted ways that night. The moonlight was sparse, and the shadows of the trees were swaying.

There were no pleasantries, not even much eye contact. An invisible sense of awkwardness, distance, and an eerie familiarity born from a month of "getting to know" each other through surveillance permeated the air.

Chen Mo handed the sandalwood box to "Su Wanqing".

Su Wanqing took it, opened it and checked the darker-colored security guard "molting" inside, then handed Chen Mo another slightly smaller velvet bag that she had brought—inside was the ivory-colored noblewoman's "molting".

"How is the memory fusion going?" Su Wanqing asked, her voice returning to its original, magnetic, and gentle tone, though slightly low and hoarse, as if it hadn't been used in a long time.

Chen Mo nodded, then shook his head, looking somewhat confused: "...A lot. Sometimes, it feels like I am her." He paused, looked up at the other person, his eyes filled with complex emotions, "You...how did you manage to be so much like 'me'? You even know which foot I step with first when I'm about to be late."

“Observation, imitation, and…” Su Wanqing said lightly, without going into detail about the deeper psychological and physical imprints that “molting” might carry. “Your life is simpler than I imagined, and also… more complicated than I imagined.”

Chen Mo sensed a hidden meaning in the words and his heart skipped a beat, but he didn't respond.

“Then,” Su Wanqing hugged the wooden box to her chest, giving Chen Mo one last look, her gaze as if assessing an item whose lease had just ended, “this is the end. After tonight, forget all this. Go back to your old life. Otherwise…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but the threat in her words and the cold, oppressive aura of a superior were clearly conveyed.

Chen Mo subconsciously tensed up. Some of the instinctive reactions belonging to "Su Wanqing" made him almost want to raise his chin and refute, but Chen Mo's cowardice made him lower his head and vaguely say "hmm".

The two said nothing more, turned around, and walked in completely different directions.

Chen Mo walked towards his cramped rented room in an urban village, costing 800 yuan a month. He clutched the velvet bag tightly in his hand; the soft leather inside seemed to still retain the warmth and fragrance of that body. With his back to the moonlight, his face showed little joy at returning to the ordinary, but rather a deeper bewilderment, and a flickering flame of desire, nurtured by a refined life and **** experiences, burning faintly in his eyes. His bodily memories, sensory thresholds, and even his self-identity had been permanently altered in this exchange. Could he still be the Chen Mo he once was? Or rather, could that Chen Mo ever "come back"?

Su Wanqing straightened her back and walked towards the brightly lit penthouse. The sound of her high heels (which she had placed near the security booth beforehand) clicking on the ground was particularly clear in the quiet night. In the wooden box in her arms, the roll of the security guard's "shedding skin" lay quietly. The weariness on her face was gradually replaced by a sharp look, full of calculation and a thirst for knowledge.

A month of experience confirmed the astonishing potential of "Metamorphosis." It's not just a game of identity swapping. It's a tool, a medium, that can spy, infiltrate, and even... replace. Chen Mo, this simple sample, has already shown her many possibilities. His desires, his weaknesses, the changes in his body and consciousness under the influence of "Metamorphosis"... are all valuable data.

Her fingers unconsciously traced the smooth surface of the wooden box. Her gaze drifted to the distant rows of equally upscale buildings, each inhabited by people of different social classes, her eyes deep and thoughtful.

If a security guard can do this, then what about someone closer to her social class, but with different resources and secrets? For example… her husband, whose whereabouts are always shrouded in mystery and who controls a vast business empire? Or perhaps one of the other “acquaintances” she has already noticed in social circles, possessing unique value or being an annoying obstacle?

Is what we get in return truly the end?

Perhaps this is just the beginning of a bigger, more dangerous, and more exciting game.

Under the moonlight, two figures disappeared at opposite ends of the street, each taking away the other's "skin," and with it, an unspeakable, destined-to-be-entangled change. The night deepened, like an invisible net, silently enveloping everything. (Time: One month later, the agreed-upon end of the exchange. Location: The community security room.)

In the dead of night, all was quiet. The blue light from the monitor screen cast a faint glow on "Chen Mo"—no, on the face of the young security guard who had returned to his own body and whose consciousness had completely returned to his original form. But in his eyes, the timidity and naivety of the past were gone. Instead, there was a complex emotion that was hard to describe, a mixture of satisfaction, weariness, and an indelible, strange brilliance.

Over the past thirty days, he has witnessed a long and secretive "transformation" through that hidden computer.

The woman on the screen, who once wore his skin and bore his identity (or rather, the being possessing Su Wanqing's consciousness), played the role of "security guard Chen Mo" almost flawlessly. She was punctual, polite yet distant to residents, taciturn, and even perfectly replicated his occasional habit of slacking off and dozing. However, certain subtle details revealed differences. For example, the unconsciously elegant posture she adopted when adjusting her cuffs, and the calm, even slightly scrutinizing, gaze she gave to certain luxury cars entering and leaving—a stark contrast to the envy or curiosity Chen Mo himself might have displayed. What alarmed Chen Mo even more was that she seemed to have used her position as a security guard to quietly figure out the daily routines of several households in the community who were of similar social standing to her (Su Wanqing) within just one month. Her gaze seemed to be assessing, or perhaps…screening.

As for himself, after the initial days of panic, shame, and dizziness from being repeatedly washed by surging pleasure and fragments of unfamiliar memories, he gradually settled down within the luxurious body of "Su Wanqing." The fusion of memories was faster and deeper than expected, as if not only memories, but also certain feelings, certain aesthetics, and certain latent desires, were seeping into the depths of his consciousness in each peak moment of physical exploration.

He learned to use La Prairie's caviar essence to care for his flawless skin, grew accustomed to the delicate feel of Falke's seamless stockings encasing his legs, and even began to appreciate the subtle differences between red wines from different vintages and estates. He skillfully used those exorbitantly expensive beauty devices, admiring the curves of his body in front of the full-length mirror in his empty mansion, exploring every sensitive spot with his fingers and those strange yet precisely stimulating toys, until he briefly forgot who he was in the emptiness of orgasm.

At first, it was clumsy imitation and **** adaptation, but later, a twisted infatuation and sense of belonging arose. The woman in the mirror, with her captivating eyes and alluring charm, wearing a Givenchy haute couture gown or simply a sheer lace robe, a slender cigarette between her fingers (Su Wanqing occasionally did this, a habit he inherited), revealing a languid and slightly mocking smile amidst the wisps of smoke… Chen Mo sometimes felt a sense of disorientation, wondering if that timid, cowering security guard was just a distant dream.

He had also been unable to resist, using Su Wanqing's credit card to buy more expensive and exquisite "toys" online, hiding them in a secret compartment in the master bedroom. He had also boldly imitated Su Wanqing's tone and mannerisms, twice refusing her CEO husband's sudden requests to come home (his excuse was that he was on a short-term retreat in Europe, a story he fabricated fairly convincingly thanks to previously acquired memory fragments). On one occasion, under the premise of ensuring his safety, he wore sunglasses and used Su Wanqing's car to go to a luxurious, members-only spa he had never been to before, enjoying a head-to-toe treatment by a handsome, unfamiliar male masseur. When the masseur's hands massaged his ankles and calves with professional pressure, moving upwards, the mixture of tension, a sense of transgression, and the body's instinctive pleasure nearly made him lose control on the spot.

He knew that "she" might be watching from the other end of the surveillance camera. This feeling of being spied on gradually transformed from initial panic into a strange kind of excitement. Sometimes he would deliberately do things that were more unrestrained and inconsistent with "Su Wanqing's" usual persona from the angle the camera could capture, such as dancing in the living room wearing only stockings and a shirt, or pouring red wine on himself and then slowly licking it... He wanted to know what kind of expression the observer would have.

And tonight is the end.

During the day, he had already received a short message from "himself" (Su Wanqing, who played Chen Mo) sent from Chen Mo's phone: "12 o'clock tonight, same place, switch back."

At this moment, there were ten minutes left until midnight. Chen Mo took one last look at the monitor screen—in the footage, "Chen Mo" was meticulously completing his final night patrol, then returning to the security booth, quietly packing his personal belongings, taking off his slightly oversized security uniform, and changing into a simple tracksuit. His movements were calm, revealing no emotion.

Chen Mo took a deep breath and shut down the computer. He also changed out of his expensive silk pajamas and put back on the faded old T-shirt and jeans he had worn a month ago. The rough fabric rubbed against his still sensitive and smooth skin, creating a strong, uncomfortable sense of dissonance. He walked to the large full-length mirror, looking at his face and body—familiar yet strangely different—but something felt off. Was it the eyes? The demeanor? Or the lingering, smooth texture beneath his skin, as if it belonged to someone else?

He picked up the sandalwood box containing the "molted skin" (he had taken it out of hiding earlier this morning as instructed by "Su Wanqing"), and took one last look around the luxurious, dreamlike apartment. His fingertips brushed across the gleaming marble countertop; the air seemed to still carry the scent of "Su Wanqing's" usual perfume, mixed with a different fragrance he had left behind over the past month.

Then, without hesitation, he turned around, pushed open the door, and stepped into the elevator. The slight feeling of weightlessness as the elevator descended made him a little dizzy.

---

At the same time, at the security booth.

"Su Wanqing" was also prepared. Beneath the sportswear, she had donned the ivory-colored "shedding skin" again. A month of wearing it initially had made this body incredibly intertwined with Chen Mo's; now, being shrouded in the feeling of being detached as a "container" again, she felt a strange anticipation of "returning." She carefully folded Chen Mo's old clothes and placed them on the table along with his work badge. Her face was expressionless, only a world-weary calmness and a barely perceptible weariness shone deep in her eyes.

Over the past month, life as "Chen Mo" has felt more "real" than she had anticipated. The aches and pains of standing guard, the weariness of night shifts, the smell of instant noodles, the vulgar jokes of other security guards, the residents' polite or indifferent glances... these rough details filled a long-standing, empty thirst for "experience." At the same time, with astonishing calmness and adaptability, she used this inconspicuous identity to observe and gather information about another side of this world she had never truly looked down upon before. She saw more, and she thought more.

Regarding “metamorphosis,” regarding possibilities, regarding… a permanent “exchange” or a more complex “operation.”

Time is up.

The two appeared almost simultaneously in the shadows of a quiet corner near the back gate of the residential complex, where they had parted ways that night. The moonlight was sparse, and the shadows of the trees were swaying.

There were no pleasantries, not even much eye contact. An invisible sense of awkwardness, distance, and an eerie familiarity born from a month of "getting to know" each other through surveillance permeated the air.

Chen Mo handed the sandalwood box to "Su Wanqing".

Su Wanqing took it, opened it and checked the darker-colored security guard "molting" inside, then handed Chen Mo another slightly smaller velvet bag that she had brought—inside was the ivory-colored noblewoman's "molting".

"How is the memory fusion going?" Su Wanqing asked, her voice returning to its original, magnetic, and gentle tone, though slightly low and hoarse, as if it hadn't been used in a long time.

Chen Mo nodded, then shook his head, looking somewhat confused: "...A lot. Sometimes, it feels like I am her." He paused, looked up at the other person, his eyes filled with complex emotions, "You...how did you manage to be so much like 'me'? You even know which foot I step with first when I'm about to be late."

“Observation, imitation, and…” Su Wanqing said lightly, without going into detail about the deeper psychological and physical imprints that “molting” might carry. “Your life is simpler than I imagined, and… more complicated than I wanted to touch.”

Chen Mo sensed a hidden meaning in the words and his heart skipped a beat, but he didn't respond.

“Then,” Su Wanqing hugged the wooden box to her chest, giving Chen Mo one last look, her gaze as if assessing an item whose lease had just ended, “this is the end. After tonight, forget all this. Go back to your old life. Otherwise…” She didn’t finish her sentence, but the threat in her words and the cold, oppressive aura of a superior were clearly conveyed.

Chen Mo subconsciously tensed up. Some of the instinctive reactions belonging to "Su Wanqing" made him almost want to raise his chin and refute, but Chen Mo's cowardice made him lower his head and vaguely say "hmm".

The two said nothing more, turned around, and walked in completely different directions.

Chen Mo walked towards his cramped rented room in an urban village, costing 800 yuan a month. He clutched the velvet bag tightly in his hand; the soft leather inside seemed to still retain the warmth and fragrance of that body. With his back to the moonlight, his face showed little joy at returning to the ordinary, but rather a deeper bewilderment, and a flickering flame of desire, nurtured by a refined life and **** experiences, burning faintly in his eyes. His bodily memories, sensory thresholds, and even his self-identity had been permanently altered in this exchange. Could he still be the Chen Mo he once was? Or rather, could that Chen Mo ever "come back"?

Su Wanqing straightened her back and walked towards the brightly lit penthouse. The sound of her high heels (which she had placed near the security booth beforehand) clicking on the ground was particularly clear in the quiet night. In the wooden box in her arms, the roll of the security guard's "shedding skin" lay quietly. The weariness on her face was gradually replaced by a sharp look, full of calculation and a thirst for knowledge.

A month of experience confirmed the astonishing potential of "Metamorphosis." It's not just a game of identity swapping. It's a tool, a medium, that can spy, infiltrate, and even... replace. Chen Mo, this simple sample, has already shown her many possibilities. His desires, his weaknesses, the changes in his body and consciousness under the influence of "Metamorphosis"... are all valuable data.

Her fingers unconsciously traced the smooth surface of the wooden box. Her gaze drifted to the distant rows of equally upscale buildings, each inhabited by people of different social classes, her eyes deep and thoughtful.

If a security guard can do this, then what about someone closer to her social class, but with different resources and secrets? For example… her husband, whose whereabouts are always shrouded in mystery and who controls a vast business empire? Or perhaps one of the other “acquaintances” she has already noticed in social circles, possessing unique value or being an annoying obstacle?

Is what we get in return truly the end?

Perhaps this is just the beginning of a bigger, more dangerous, and more exciting game.

Under the moonlight, two figures disappeared at opposite ends of the street, each taking away the other's "skin," and also a change that was unspeakable and destined to be intertwined. The night deepened, like an invisible net, quietly enveloping everything.