Chapter 1: The Last Wish of a Seventy-Year-Old

On the hospital bed, an elderly man gazed out at the birds beyond the window, lost in thought.

The afternoon sun slanted through the blinds, casting warm, dappled light upon the pristine white sheets. Dust motes danced slowly within the sunbeams, like fragments of time itself. Seventy years of life felt like a book turned to its final page, every word yellowed, every chapter concluded.

His body, that old machine, now emitted the last, mournful cries of its every failing part.

He wished to wait no longer. His children—all daughters, now married and forging their own paths—had long since established their lives, a fact that brought him a measure of peace.

His late wife had been waiting for years on the other side, sometimes chiding him in his dreams, “You old fool, why are you so slow?”

It was time… time to go.

Yet, as he watched his three daughters move in and out of the hospital room, their tears drying only to flow anew, and as he saw the stack of medical bills grow ever thicker, his heart ached profoundly. He grieved for the money, but even more so for their forced smiles, bravely trying to reassure him.

“You… wish to leave, don’t you?”

A voice, soft as the wind rustling through wind chimes, gently sounded.

The old man slowly turned his neck, the only part of him still capable of free movement, following the sound with his gaze.

Perched on the windowsill was a small creature he had never seen before.

It resembled a lop-eared rabbit, entirely snow-white, yet behind it trailed a large, soft, fluffy tail. Most striking were its long ears, each adorned with a silver ring. Though described as ‘worn,’ the rings clearly did not touch its fur, instead floating there in an uncanny manner. With the creature’s movements, they occasionally rippled with a faint, gentle glow.

[I am a spirit of the flowers, named Xiao Ming.] This time, the voice resonated directly in his mind, soft and clear. [I heard your wish. It was very quiet, but very distinct. And I can help you fulfill it.]

‘But… what is the price?’ The old man mused with a bitter smile in his heart.

[The price is,] Xiao Ming’s ears drooped slightly, and its fluffy tail nervously curled, causing the silver rings to tremble. [You will need to sign a contract in a new form, and try to become… a magical girl.]

A magical girl?

He was seventy years old. Could… a seventy-year-old become a magical girl?

The old man remained silent, a wave of incredulity rising in his mind. He suspected he must be hallucinating.

Yet, the small creature before him, now almost curled into a ball of melancholy fur, and the uncontrolled wails emanating from its mind, felt undeniably real.

[Ugh… Oh no, oh no, did I scare someone again? But this is the last quota! If I can’t complete it, I’ll really be fired, boohoohoo…]

Seventy years of experience allowed him to discern at a glance: this was a desperate, pitiable creature clinging to a lifeline, and he, perhaps, was its last glimmer of hope.

It was so similar to how he had been in his youth, begging for help to support his family.

That intrinsic, almost instinctive gentleness of an elder stirred softly within his heart.

‘Youngster,’ he thought, his mental tone imbued with the slow, broad kindness unique to the elderly. ‘Don’t rush. I never said no.’

Xiao Ming abruptly lifted its head, its ruby-like eyes wide and round.

[Re-really? Then I… I’ll show you the contract first!] It frantically used the tips of its ears to draw a shimmering, colorful light screen in the air.

The old man squinted, examining it closely—*hiss*~ did even this state not escape presbyopia?—he slowly deciphered the glowing words.

The terms were simple: voluntarily participate in a purification test, experience the basic abilities of a magical girl, and after the test, freely choose whether to sign a formal contract.

Freely choose? That seemed quite fair. Even leaning in his favor.

He recalled his doctor’s solemn face this morning, the surgery with its less-than-high success rate, and his daughters’ hushed arguments in the corridor—about whether to sell their house—which he faintly overheard and surmised.

‘Alright,’ the old man calmly responded in his mind. ‘I’ll sign.’

Once the old man agreed, a soft, interwoven glow of pink and white, like the warmest cocoon, gently enveloped the hospital bed.

The heart rate line on the monitor stretched into a long, flat white light.

The old man felt a peculiar lightness—not a fall, but an ascent. Perhaps this was the sensation of his soul leaving his body?

He made a final effort to direct his gaze toward his eldest daughter, sleeping beside the bed, but only managed to see a single tear slide from her tightly closed eye, sparkling in the afternoon sun.

‘I’m sorry, my children.’

‘Dad is taking this path, going first.’

There was no pain, no suffocation, only a profound sense of relief, a return to eternity. As his soul drifted out the window, he took one last look at the world he had lived in for seventy years—the sun was bright, the sky was blue, and the branches of the old tree downstairs were lush and green.

Then, everything changed.

Before him was not the familiar street, but a park of unreal beauty.

The sky was a gentle twilight hue, orange-pink and soft lavender subtly blended. Glimmering petals floated leisurely from the air, transforming into tiny specks of light upon touching the ground. The faint sound of flowing water drifted from afar, and a delicate floral scent, not overpowering but deeply comforting, permeated the air.

“This is a consciousness simulation space!” Xiao Ming’s voice rang out beside him. It seemed to have recovered some vitality, but its long ears were still nervously intertwined. “Time is limited, so let’s hurry—first, we need to determine your ‘Source Flower Form’!”

The old man, now merely a hazy spiritual mist, obediently “touched” Xiao Ming’s outstretched paw.

At the moment of contact, the light mist trembled softly.

A gentle glow emanated from within, not dazzling, but warm. Slowly, the silhouette of a flower emerged in the light—first delicate, vibrant green stems, then a pure white bud, its petals layered and wrapped, tipped with a faint, pale yellow.

The petals unfurled one by one, like someone stretching after waking.

When it finally bloomed completely, an extremely soft, wind chime-like tinkle resonated in the air.

It was an exquisite, ethereal cluster of flowers: delicate white petals embracing a pale yellow heart, from whose depths flowed a honey-like luster. The foliage was verdant, as if still adorned with morning dew.

Beside the ethereal image, two glowing, ancient characters quietly appeared:

Suxin (Jasmine).

“Jasmine flower…” Xiao Ming’s voice carried clear delight. “Its flower language is amiability, gentle serenity… The compatibility is excellent!”

It took a deep breath, and the silver bangles on its long ears began to emit a soft glow:

“Now then—please close your eyes. This might be… the most extraordinary experience of your life.”

The old man closed his “eyes.”

The world darkened.

Then, warmth spread from the depths of his heart, bit by bit.

It felt like frozen limbs slowly regaining warmth, every cell gently reawakening. He felt his bones stretching—not pain, but a long-lost, effortless opening. His spine straightened segment by segment, his shoulder blades naturally drew back, and his entire being seemed to become lighter.

Next came his skin. The sensation of aging and looseness receded like a tide, replaced by a firm, smooth touch. He felt the existence of a “body” once more, yet it was an unfamiliar, youthful presence.

His sense of smell returned.

A faint, clear fragrance wafted around his nose. It was the scent of jasmine—clean, gentle, with the freshness of morning dew. Immediately after, he heard the babbling of a distant stream, the soft rustle of falling petals, and… the increasingly clear beat of his own heart.

“With flower as proof, with spirit as guide…”

Xiao Ming’s chant floated softly:

“Hereby an eternal pact is sealed—Magical Transformation!”

Light gently enveloped him.

Innumerable ribbons of pale yellow and ivory light streamed from the void, like the softest silk, gently wrapping around his forming body.

The first light ribbon coiled around his ankles, transforming into a pair of pure white short boots—ankle-high, embroidered with jasmine patterns on the sides, their heels adorned with tiny specks of light.

The second light ribbon ascended along his legs, weaving into sheer white over-the-knee socks. Their cuffs had pale yellow lace trim, and above them, a section of fair thigh skin was revealed.

Then—

The third light ribbon gathered at his waist.

With a soft ‘swish,’ a pale yellow pleated mini-skirt materialized out of thin air.

The hem reached only to mid-thigh, swaying gently as the light ribbons wove. Each pleat was meticulously neat, and the skirt’s edge was studded with tiny light particles.

“W-wait…” the old man uttered in his consciousness. “Isn’t this skirt too—”

Before he could finish, the fourth light ribbon had already wrapped around his torso.

A pure white and pale yellow off-the-shoulder crop top took shape, conforming to the curves of his nascent body. His shoulders were fully exposed, his collarbones clearly visible. The neckline was adorned with blooming jasmine ornaments, their centers glowing softly.

The fifth light ribbon cinched at his waist.

Real, dew-kissed jasmine branches spontaneously grew, intertwining to form an exquisite waist cincher. The foliage was vibrant green, dotted with small white flowers, subtly trembling with each breath.

Finally—

The sixth light ribbon cascaded like moonlight.

A translucent ivory-white sheer shawl unfurled behind him, wide and ethereal, its edges shimmering with a pearl-like luster. The shawl moved without wind, gently fluttering in the light.

Simultaneously, light particles converged at the crown of his head.

Pale yellow, slightly wavy long hair cascaded down like a waterfall—the hair was soft and lustrous, with natural curls at the ends. On the left side of his temple, a jasmine hair clip automatically attached itself, a small light crystal embedded in the center of its petals.

The transformation was complete.

The light receded like a tide.

Xiao Ming had already prepared a full-length mirror and now carefully pushed it before “her.”

In the mirror—

A beautiful magical girl stood gracefully.

Pale yellow, softly curled long hair cascaded to her waist, shimmering with a honey-like luster in the twilight glow. Her light brown eyes were warm like amber, yet held a depth and serenity far beyond what an eighteen-year-old should possess. Her skin was fair, her cheeks flushed with a healthy, delicate pink.

And her attire—

Beneath the mini-skirt were long, straight legs. Between the white over-the-knee socks and the short boots, a section of skin gleamed blindingly white in the light. The off-the-shoulder top accentuated her slender waist, and the floral waist cincher was vibrant and dewy. The sheer shawl fluttered like delicate wings, enveloping her entire being in a faint, pale yellow aura.

The old man, no—

She stared blankly at the person in the mirror.

She remained stunned for a full five or six seconds.

Then, she slowly blinked. The girl in the mirror blinked in unison.

She raised her hand—those now fair and slender hands—and gently touched her cheek.

The sensation was warm, elastic. Her skin was incredibly smooth.

She then lowered her gaze, looking at her legs. Those now long and shapely legs, elegantly defined beneath the white over-the-knee socks.

Then, her gaze fell upon the hem of her skirt.

That skirt, so short… it made her old heart tremble.

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