Chapter 1: The Secret You Don’t Want Your Son to Discover

“Sir, you wouldn’t want… your son finding out he’s actually a magical girl, right?”

A voice tinged with playful mockery brushed against his earlobe.

Lin Xibai’s heart clenched violently.

She struggled to turn her gaze, meeting a pair of eyes brimming with amusement under the dim light.

The other tilted her head slightly.
Several strands of cherry-pink hair slipped down, grazing her cheek.

“You also wouldn’t want… your own identity as a magical girl to be discovered by your son, right~?”

“You—you scum…”

Lin Xibai’s chin was gripped from behind by a pair of tender, snow-white little hands.
Her entire body was pinned against the wall.

The strength of an adult male had completely vanished inside this petite frame, leaving only an infuriating sense of powerlessness.

Her slightly youthful face was filled with unwillingness.
Long, slender lashes trembled.
Pale cheeks flushed a faint pink from shame and anger.

White hair fell messily across her forehead, unable to hide those moist eyes burning with rage.

“You—you have to understand, a melon twisted by force isn’t sweet! Miss Gu, I’m warning you—let me go! I need to go home!”

Gu Ranying, hearing this from mere centimeters away, not only didn’t release her grip—her lips curved into an even deeper smile.

She tilted her head slightly.
Warm breath swept past Lin Xibai’s ear.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to go home and have me play with you like this in front of your child?”

As the words fell, her other hand quietly reached out.
Cool fingertips slowly traced across Lin Xibai’s impossibly slender waist.

“If you want something even more thrilling… that can be arranged too, you know~?”

Lin Xibai turned her face away, trying to escape that scorching gaze.

“Gu Ranying! Don’t go too far!”

“Hm? That doesn’t sound like the attitude of someone asking for a favor, Xibai~”

“That brat…”

She gritted her teeth, attempting to change the subject—and to divert her own attention.
“He ac—actually…”

“Oh?”

Gu Ranying seized the opening perfectly, her tone growing even more teasing.
“What about that child?”

Her fingertip tapped lightly at Lin Xibai’s waist, the gesture frivolous.
“Clearly it was you who ended up like this first, wasn’t it~?”

Lin Xibai fell completely silent.

This was her taboo.
The leverage Gu Ranying could use to threaten her.

She couldn’t even imagine what expression her son would make if he learned that his father had not only turned into a magical girl, but was also being threatened and coerced like this.

Disgust?
Fear?
Or would he completely push her away?

In this suffocating stalemate—

The pink-haired girl raised an eyebrow.
Her fingertip mischievously gave a light pinch to the other’s waist.

“Mmph—!”

A short, stifled whimper escaped Lin Xibai’s lips.

Her lovely features instantly scrunched up.
A tide of humiliated red rushed from her neck all the way to the tips of her ears.

…Forget it.

Just endure.

As long as she endured, it would be fine…

This was Lin Xibai—or rather, the instinctive reaction that Lin Bai, after thirty-eight years of living, had long internalized.

Suppress the emotions.
Shelve the problem.
Use silence and waiting to exchange for a superficial calm.

Whether in an unsatisfying job or in the exhausting interactions with a son who grew more silent by the day—this tactic always seemed to work.

She only wanted to live each day plainly and ordinarily.

Yet the peaceful daily life she had so modestly wished for had still been brutally shattered.

…

…

‘Ring ring ring—’

The alarm sounded.

Lin Bai forced his sleepy eyes open.
His gaze habitually drifted toward the ceiling—where that faded cat pattern still remained.

Morning light slipped through the gap in the curtains, just happening to brush across that mark.

The pigment had lost its vibrancy after years of exposure.
The outlines had faded until they nearly melted into the wall plaster—yet one could still make out the round head and curled tail.

His wife had painted it there long ago with children’s paints.
She said, “The ceiling is too plain. Let’s give it a little cat to keep you company while you sleep.”

Lin Bai stared at that thin beam of light for several seconds before finally managing to prop himself up.

As he sat up, his cervical vertebrae let out crisp ‘crack crack’ sounds—especially jarring in the quiet bedroom.

So tired.

He had clearly slept, yet his body felt as though it had been run over repeatedly—completely unrested.

But day after day, year after year… he seemed to have… grown used to it.

Thirty-eight years old—the age when a man should be at his strongest.
Yet he felt like that faded cat: once vivid, now only a blurry shadow silently curled in the corner.

He exhaled a breath of stale air out of habit, got out of bed, changed into an impeccably ironed shirt and trousers, and let his gaze fall on the nightstand.

There stood a photo frame containing a picture of Lin Bai and his wife together.
In the photo she smiled gently, arm around his shoulder.

Only the edges had yellowed—as if reminding him how much time had already passed.

He picked up the soft cloth beside it, carefully wiped the glass surface once, then gently returned the frame to its place.

Washing up. Lighting the stove.

The sizzle of frying eggs and the bubbling of boiling water became the only sounds in the house.

Lin Bai prepared two breakfasts.
One went into a bag; the other he carefully plated.

He snipped open one pill from the medicine box and placed it beside his son’s plate.
After a moment’s thought, he used the still-steaming water cup to carefully press down one corner of the tablet.

Having finished, he walked to the door with the “Knock first” sticky note, raised his hand—paused for a second with his knuckles against the wood—then gave three soft knocks.

“Food’s ready… remember to take your medicine.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, without waiting for any reply from inside, he immediately turned and almost fled from the doorway.

Only when he reached the entrance did he let out a long breath.
Yet the inexplicable tightness in his chest refused to dissipate.

He no longer knew when it had started—simply talking to his own son could make him feel such clear pressure.

Every time before he spoke, he would mentally rehearse the words over and over.
Yet in the end, he always ended up saying something curt like just now—rattling it off in one breath before hurriedly leaving.

It was somewhat like those students in his class who hadn’t memorized the text properly: mumbling through it in front of him before panicking and running away.

He picked up his slightly worn briefcase.
Before that door could open, Lin Bai closed the front door behind him.

Lin Bai merged into the crowded 7 a.m. subway flow.

The tide of people surged.
The carriage air was thick and stale.

He found a corner to stand steady, unwrapped the egg-and-ham sandwich from the bag, and ate in silence.

Around him were mostly exhausted or numb-faced office workers, interspersed with a few students in school uniforms, earbuds in, isolated from the world.

Lin Bai watched them, his expression somewhat dazed.

Those children carried textbooks and futures in the bags on their backs.
What his own bag now contained were his son’s medical bills and several unfinished lesson plans.

At 7:30 sharp, he walked into Qingchuan City Third High School.

Passing through the gradually livening campus, he entered the teachers’ office.
The familiar smell of paper and strong tea slightly steadied him.

He sat down and began organizing the lesson plans and slides he would need today—trying to block out the lingering oppressive feeling from home that morning.

“What’s wrong? You look listless.”

A gentle voice interrupted his thoughts.

Lin Bai looked up.
A paper cup of steaming coffee was quietly placed on the corner of his desk.

His gaze followed the hand upward—it was Ye Zhining.

She lifted a hand to tuck back the side ponytail, revealing a fair neck, and a concerned smile appeared on her face.

“Didn’t sleep well last night?”

“Ah, yeah…”

Lin Bai awkwardly averted his eyes.
His hands instinctively reached for the coffee cup.
“Maybe the temperature difference has been big lately… feeling a bit rundown.”

Ye Zhining was the school counselor—a colleague, technically.

Compared to a Chinese teacher who constantly had to prepare lessons, grade homework, and deal with exams, her job was clearly much lighter.

She had gentle brown long hair, a slender yet mature figure, and an innate warmth and intellectuality that made her very popular among both students and colleagues.

Ye Zhining looked at Lin Bai’s evasive eyes, gave a soft sigh, and ultimately didn’t expose the obvious lie.

She naturally sat down on the empty chair beside him and changed the subject.

“Did you see yesterday’s news?”

“You mean the missing students case in Qingchuan City?” Lin Bai stopped writing.

“That’s right. Not just missing—reports say there were high concentrations of mana fluctuations left at the scene. The bureau sent a notice to the school. It feels a lot like the work of void beasts.”

Ye Zhining lowered her voice slightly.
“The higher-ups seem to have decided that after today’s classes, the school will go on temporary break so official magical girls can come assist with the investigation.”

“Is that so… Then we can rest for a few days.”

Lin Bai lowered his eyelids.

His first reaction wasn’t fear—it was relief.

The feeling of being able to avoid facing students, avoid lesson plans—even legitimately hide at home—allowed his constantly tense heart a brief moment of relaxation.

“How’s your child’s health lately? If money is tight, I can help cover it first.”

“No—no need, really,” Lin Bai hurriedly waved his hand.
“I’ve already asked an old friend to look for a special-effect medicine. Should have results soon.”

“Mm.”

Ye Zhining gave a small sound of acknowledgment, then asked casually,
“How about you and him… Has your relationship gotten any better?”

Lin Bai was silent for a moment.
The corners of his mouth pulled into a somewhat forced curve.

“…It’s okay, I guess. Probably just puberty. They’re all like that.”

Ye Zhining didn’t press further.
She simply nodded and smiled.

“If you need, I can talk to him more. And you—don’t push yourself too hard, Teacher Lin. Children from single-parent families actually need companionship and care the most.”

“…”

Care.

How could he not want to give care?

But between him and his son lay a full eight years of rupture.

The cruel parting that took his wife.
The tons of apologies and explanations that were never spoken.
And that door—which, though right there, felt heavier than a thousand pounds.

‘Ring ring ring—’

The preparatory bell rang at an inconvenient moment, saving Lin Bai.

“First period… I’ll head over first.”

Lin Bai hurriedly grabbed his lesson plans and left the office.

Morning classes finally ended.

Lin Bai returned to the office, collapsed into his chair, unscrewed his already somewhat chipped thermos, and took a sip of the warm throat-soothing tea.

The liquid slid down his parched throat, but it couldn’t take away the dry frustration in his heart.

‘Crack.’

He reached up and squeezed his shoulder.
His cervical vertebrae let out a dull, grating sound.

Middle age had arrived, and all sorts of occupational ailments came rushing in as if by appointment.

Lin Bai looked at his slightly trembling right hand.
Due to cervical nerve compression, his fingertips felt waves of fine numbness.

He gave a self-mocking smile.
Back when he first started teaching, he was full of energy—could shout through a whole day of classes and still be lively the next.

Now? Just three periods standing at the podium, and even gripping things felt exhausting.

He set the thermos down.
His gaze habitually drifted toward the window.

The sky looked somewhat overcast.
While he was lost in thought, his phone suddenly received a text message.

“Regarding your son’s condition, the special-effect medicine has been located. Please come to Magical Girl Headquarters for a discussion.”