Chapter 32: The Chutian Library: A Tale of Magic and Childhood

Chutian Library.

On the first floor, there’s a children’s library. The air here is different from the floors above. It lacks the deliberate, adult quietude, instead filled with the subdued yet uncontainable whispers of children—pages turning, stifled giggles, and mothers’ soft shushes.

Near the windows, a row of low bookshelves is lined with colorful cushions, where several children are sprawled out, flipping through picture books.

By the entrance, a figure in a dark work vest stands, head bowed over a phone.

[One-stage Budding (Anonymous)]: “Suspicious ‘Erosion’ spotted escaping to the first floor!”

[Two-stage Florist (Anonymous)]: “Be cautious! This is the children’s library.”

[One-stage Budding (Daisy)]: “Um… I’m on the first floor, but I might need a bit of help.”

Ziyuan’s eyebrows twitched slightly.

Daisy. That child is indeed here.

When the unmasked name popped up in the group, Ziyuan could almost visualize the expression on the sender’s face—pouting, a mix of disappointment and embarrassment, reluctant to admit needing assistance.

She was about to reply when a private message came through.

“Ziyuan Sister, have you received a mission? Were you assigned to come to the first floor to play with me?”

Ziyuan’s lips curved into a slight smile. Her fingertips lightly tapped the screen as she replied:

“I’m stationed between the first and second floors for observation and will keep a close eye on you. But you must also be very careful!”

After sending the message, she put her phone away and stood there for a moment longer.

From this angle, she could see most of the first-floor children’s area.

She spotted a girl wearing a dress adorned with small daisy patterns, sitting beside an elderly person with graying hair, hugging a fluffy white rabbit plushie, and looking at her phone.

The older person’s hand rested on her head, gently rubbing.

“Hmm? Who are you talking to?”

Grandma had just returned and reached out to touch her granddaughter’s hair.

Daisy’s eyes curved into crescents. “It’s a friend! I’m playing a game with her! I’m seeing if she can find me!”

“That’s impressive,” Grandma smiled, rubbing her hair again. “A good friend… make sure to take good care of her.”

“Mhm!”

Grandma’s gaze fell on her granddaughter’s dress, covered in small daisy patterns. She suddenly exclaimed: “Oh, did you get your dress dirty again?”

Daisy’s heart raced, and she quickly covered the hem of her skirt.

There was nothing there—not for ordinary people, at least. It was just the faint glow of residual magic, like tiny specks of stardust, slowly fading. But Grandma’s question made her feel guilty.

“Oh, no! It’s nothing! Uhh… I need to use the bathroom! You stay here, Grandma!”

Before Grandma could respond, Daisy grabbed the plushie called “Fluffy Rabbit” and rushed off.

At the bathroom door, Daisy paused, hugging Fluffy Rabbit and murmuring softly: “Little Daisy, where do you think that bad thing went?”

The rabbit’s ears twitched slightly. A thin voice echoed in her mind:

“Master, I can’t sense it either… It’s hidden too well.”

That was Daisy’s spirit beast, Little Daisy, possessed within the plushie, its voice still groggy from sleep.

“What? Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“I just woke up…” Little Daisy’s ears twitched again. “Anyway, it won’t be able to hold back for long. Once it shows itself, we’ll have a way to deal with it.”

“Hmm…” Daisy tilted her head, thinking, then nodded. “You’re right.”

She hugged Fluffy Rabbit and made her way back. Passing the sink, she stood on tiptoes to glance at herself in the mirror—her hair was a bit messy, and her cheeks were flushed. She smoothed her bangs and smiled at her reflection.

“Still cute!”

Then she skipped back to the children’s area.

When she returned, a circle of children had gathered around the picture book corner. The oldest was about seven or eight, and the youngest was still cradled in their mother’s arms. They all stared eagerly, and when they saw Daisy return, a small boy couldn’t help but shout: “Sister, hurry up!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Daisy hugged Fluffy Rabbit and pushed her way into the center of the circle, sitting on a cushion. She opened a picture book—its cover featured a round, yellow chick, with bold letters beneath: “Bunny Seeks the Sun.”

“Today, I’ll tell you the story of ‘Bunny Seeks the Sun.'”

Her voice was soft and slow, occasionally gesturing with Fluffy Rabbit. The children listened intently, even the smallest one, with wide eyes and clenched fists.

Just as she was about to finish, a little girl finally asked: “Where is the sun?”

Daisy turned to the last page, where a round sun hung on the horizon, golden rays illuminating the entire meadow.

“The bunny was tired and sat down to rest. It looked up—oh? The sun was in the sky all along!”

She closed the book and held up Fluffy Rabbit. “Alright! Story time is over!”

The children clapped excitedly.

“Now let’s play a game!” Daisy stood up, hugging Fluffy Rabbit. “I’ll play ‘Drop the Handkerchief’—oh, wait, I’ll play ‘Drop the Rabbit’! Whoever catches it gets to tell the next story!”

“Okay!”

Daisy hugged Fluffy Rabbit and slowly walked in circles around the children.

One circle. Two circles. Three circles.

Inside Fluffy Rabbit, Little Daisy was silently sensing.

On the fourth circle, Daisy paused.

In the corner, a boy hunched his shoulders, sitting alone with a picture book spread open in front of him, not turning a page for half a day. He didn’t talk to the children next to him or look up at her.

Around him, a faint gray haze hung in the air.

It wasn’t a “wandering spirit”—those weren’t so faint. It was just an N-level “dust,” like a thin layer of mist, enveloping his small figure.

Did it escape from the floor above?

Or perhaps it was just the boy’s own sadness, quietly solidifying.

Daisy blinked, just as Fluffy Rabbit landed in front of him. She followed, squatting down before him.

“Why aren’t you telling a story? It’s your turn!”

The boy looked up at her, his eyes red but silent.

Daisy tilted her head, thinking. She had seen that expression before—in school, when children were scolded by teachers or argued with classmates, they would look like this.

She gently placed Fluffy Rabbit on the boy’s lap.

“Here, feel my rabbit. It’s so soft, and it has magic! Touching it will make you feel better.”

The boy hesitated, then reached out to pat the rabbit’s head.

It was so soft.

Fluffy Hug·Protect.

A warm, gentle light emanated from the rabbit, not blinding like sunlight. It was soft and cozy, like the warmth escaping a winter blanket, or a sun-warmed quilt wrapped around you.

The gray haze shivered slightly.

Then—it dispersed.

The boy stared for a moment, then suddenly looked up, whispering: “I want to hear… the dinosaur story.”

“Sure!” Daisy hugged Fluffy Rabbit, her eyes crinkling. “I’ll tell one more first! Then you can tell yours!”

She sat back in the center of the circle, opening another picture book.

The surrounding children grew excited, chattering about dinosaurs.

The boy also scooted closer, eager to listen.

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