Chapter 9: The Older Generation’s Journey to School

“If you don’t want to cook, at least order takeout.”

“Huh? Sure, Mom, use my phone.”

After cleaning the fast food mess and tossing unopened boxes back, Jiang Lingwei took Jiang Yao’s phone and opened a delivery app.

“Wow, this is the new era! Takeout’s so cheap and easy now!”

In her memory, takeout was nascent and pricey.

Now, a bowl of pork trotter rice cost 9.9 yuan, with a sausage and water for just 2 yuan more.

But what’s “share a meal”? Eating with others?

Seeing Jiang Lingwei’s excitement over high-tech, Jiang Yao smiled helplessly.

Her past, exaggerated fantasies of her mother faded.

With more time together, her mother felt real, tangible.

Her seventeen-year-old mom had a cute innocence.

Jiang Yao quietly canceled the shared meal plan, switching to a pricier bento service for something similar.

“Mom.”

She pulled a pink bank card from her pocket.

“This is… money left behind. Password’s 201274. You can buy a phone and get a card tomorrow.”

“But I don’t have an ID card.”

“Huh?”

Jiang Yao froze.

True—she’d never seen her mother’s ID.

For sanatorium paperwork, she’d used a family certificate.

Where was her mom’s ID?

‘I’ll need to visit the bureau tomorrow.’

She said to Jiang Lingwei:

“Mom, I’ll handle the ID issue tomorrow.”

Jiang Lingwei didn’t dwell on the money.

Jiang Yao’s expression told her who left the card.

Whenever she probed about that man, Jiang Yao’s pitiful look blocked her.

Yet Jiang Yao didn’t seem to be hiding or refusing to share.

It felt like she genuinely couldn’t—or didn’t know how to—explain.

‘Forget it for now. She’s my daughter, but I won’t use that man’s money if I can avoid it. I’ll look for a part-time job tomorrow.’

Skipping the topic, Jiang Lingwei suggested:

“Since there’s no food, how about we shop for groceries together tomorrow?”

“Of course!”

Jiang Yao’s eyes lit up, then dimmed.

“Oh… I forgot I have school tomorrow.”

Regretfully, she added with hope:

“But I can take a day off!”

“No, school’s more important.”

Jiang Lingwei gently rejected her enthusiasm.

Beyond acting like a mom who cares about academics, she knew school—human society—was vital for a magical girl.

The old fairy once said that if magical girls only fought, shunning social life, they’d grow too susceptible to magic.

Short-term, this boosted combat power.

But magical girls were human.

Magic’s influence during their growth could harm their personalities.

The old fairy was reliable on serious matters.

He’d shared a tale from his homeland: a fairy obsessed with magic, struck by “magic thirst.”

The Fairy Kingdom brimmed with magic.

Fairies, born magical, used happy emotions to wield it.

Dark fairies harvested negative emotions, driven by ambition.

The obsessed fairy chased magic to death, dissolving into it, vanishing entirely.

The old fairy speculated it shed its life essence, merging with its beloved magic.

He’d fled dark fairies via their experimental teleportation array, landing on Earth.

There, he discovered his homeland’s contract magic could turn qualified girls into warriors far stronger than fairies—magical girls.

Dark fairies saw Earth’s potential: humans, mythical creatures, existed in droves.

They aimed to invade, corrupting and enslaving.

As the only other magic-user, the old fairy created magical girls through equal contracts to counter them.

Jiang Lingwei had wondered why he didn’t lower contract standards, mass-producing flawed magical girls obsessed with chuunibyou fantasies or sacrificing their personalities for quick power.

Efficiency-wise, it’d counter darkness faster.

“Wouldn’t that make me a jerk?”

The old fairy had chuckled.

He didn’t know what’d happen if magical girls abandoned human activities, isolated themselves, and let magic dominate.

Jiang Lingwei didn’t want to find out.

In short: study hard.

Tch, kids today had it easy.

Back then, she woke at 4 a.m., lugged a 50-pound schoolbag, wore a flour-sack uniform, and trekked 40 kilometers over snowy mountains, swamps, and rivers.

She’d transform mid-journey, slay a monster or two, then reach school!

“Ugh…”

Jiang Yao looked crestfallen.

Her disappointment was palpable, like drooping puppy ears.

‘The pain…’

Jiang Lingwei’s inner villain crumpled.

Her daughter’s sad face pierced her parental heart.

Her request was irresistible.

‘No, I must be firm!’

‘I’ll act alone tomorrow.’

Then Xiaobai leapt down from upstairs.

“Trouble, [Crystal]! Another Earth Demon Worm outbreak!”

“What? Another one today—”

Jiang Yao stood, then caught herself.

“Uh… I mean, Xiaobai! Why’re you running out again?!”

Jiang Lingwei played along.

“Oh, that’s why he’s barking. Wants to play outside?”

“Yeah, yeah… haha.”

Jiang Yao laughed dryly, grabbing a packaged bread from the fridge.

“Mom, I need to step out. I might be late. Skip takeout. There’s a TV and tablet at home—no passwords.”

She rushed off with Xiaobai.

Jiang Lingwei sighed.

“She can’t even lie. Walking the dog? Coming back late?”

Magical girls dropped everything to race to a city crisis.

She touched her necklace.

The magic core’s cracked surface pricked her fingers.

But…

She stood, quietly following Jiang Yao.

“I can still fight.”

Half an hour later, a delivery man grumbled:

“What’s with this family? No one answers the door or phone! (；´д｀)ゞ”