Chapter 4: A Lifeline Lost, A Ritual Confronted

Upon hearing Su Xinxin’s serious words, Xiao Ming seemed to freeze, as if a pause button had been pressed.

It gazed at her, and in its ruby-like eyes, the sparkling light named “hope” visibly dimmed and extinguished, little by little. Eventually, only profound weariness and a sense of resigned desolation remained.

Lowering its head, it took a long moment before exhaling a breath, incredibly soft and slow.

“…I knew it,” it whispered, its voice laced with self-mockery and powerlessness. “Good fortune never just arrives unexpectedly. Every time I think I’ve finally grasped a lifeline, the outcome is always…”

It trailed off, then raised a forepaw – this time seemingly avoiding the ear adorned with a silver ring – and gently tapped a spot in the air. A faintly glowing, simply formatted contract silently drifted onto the coffee table, its edges shimmering with delicate light patterns.

“During the probationary period, the contractor has the right to unilaterally terminate the agreement. Once you have considered it thoroughly, simply leave your soul imprint here.” Xiao Ming’s voice returned to a calm, almost overly flat and distant tone. It turned away, its small back appearing somewhat fragile. “I…need to get some air. Please, make yourself at home.”

With that, it did not linger. Its small form floated lightly upward, passing directly through the closed glass window as if the barrier didn’t exist, and merged into the heavy darkness of the night outside.

****

The room became utterly silent, quiet enough to hear only Su Xinxin’s own breathing and heartbeat.

She gazed at the glowing paper on the coffee table, not moving immediately.

After a while, she reached out and picked it up. The paper felt cool to the touch, possessing a strange flexibility. Clutching it, she rose from the sofa and slowly walked back to the bedroom, where she sat down at the desk.

She meticulously reread the clauses. The content was identical to the test contract she remembered, and the method of termination was clearly stated.

She pondered for a long time, but ultimately, she merely placed the contract gently in a corner of the desk against the wall. She then casually set the pen, adorned with a small white furball charm, on top of it, holding down one corner of the page.

‘I’ll deal with it tomorrow,’ she thought. ‘When one is tired, thoughts tend to become muddled and prone to error. Perhaps after a good night’s sleep, when the morning light streams in again, I’ll be able to think more clearly.’

For now, she needed rest. And before resting, she needed to…

…Bathe.

At this thought, her body imperceptibly stiffened for a moment.

This most ordinary, even relaxing, daily ritual had now become an insurmountable mountain before her, a daunting deep sea that made her hesitate and feel timid.

‘Perhaps…tonight I’ll just wet a towel with hot water and simply wipe myself down?’

With the remaining part of her mind that clung to an elderly person’s desire for convenience and avoidance of trouble, she tried to bargain, seeking a compromise.

But as soon as the thought surfaced, her mind automatically echoed the resolute, unquestionable, and repeatedly emphasized words she used to nag her children:

“You must wash thoroughly after sweating! Use hot water and soap, paying extra attention to key areas! You’ll feel comfortable all over, your blood will circulate smoothly, and you’ll sleep soundly! Especially girls—clean and fresh makes a person vibrant! No laziness allowed!”

Those words still rang in her ears, now boomerang-ing back to strike her with pinpoint accuracy.

She was now a “girl,” and at the age when she should be most “hygienic,” maintaining freshness and cleanliness.

Moreover, this body… she instinctively lowered her gaze to her fair wrists and delicate hands, then felt the unfamiliar contours of her body beneath her dress. A heavy sense of responsibility, mixed with a strange reverence for this young life, weighed down upon her. ‘This body is hers now. Regardless of whether she stays or leaves in the future, whether she continues to be ‘Su Xinxin’ or chooses to depart, she must take responsibility and care for it properly. This is the most basic requirement.’

If she stayed, she would need to quickly adapt to, care for, and become familiar with this body. If she didn’t stay… could she really return a “dirty” body? Even the mere thought felt like a disservice to this young life.

She struggled back and forth, building and rebuilding her mental resolve, only to have it crumble again. Yet, she stubbornly tried to reconstruct it.

Ultimately, she succumbed to the ingrained habits of decades, to her deep-seated obsession with “neatness” and “responsibility,” and to… the “rules” she had once established for herself.

Like confronting an unavoidable hurdle, she took a deep breath and finally shuffled her feet towards the bathroom door.

She twisted the cold metal doorknob, pushed the door open, slipped inside, and quickly closed it again.

A soft ‘click’ sounded as the latch engaged, sealing her within a more private, yet more disorienting and heart-pounding, enclosed space.

The mirror above the vanity clearly reflected yet another completely unfamiliar maiden’s face. The person in the mirror bore some resemblance to “Suxin” in her transformed combat state, yet felt distinctly different. There was less of the dreamy glow, and more of the delicate charm and softness belonging to the real world.

Her skin was fair and smooth, with pores barely visible. Her features were delicate and gentle, and her long black hair fell somewhat disheveled over her shoulders, with a few strands clinging to her slightly damp forehead.

However, her eyes held a serenity that was incongruous with her youthful face, along with a persistent sense of bewilderment, embarrassment, and a diligently suppressed panic.

This was her everyday form, the identity of “Su Xinxin” that the organization had prepared for her to live a legal and low-key life in human society.

Xiao Ming had explained that ordinary magical girls usually had only two states: their “true self, meaning their real-world identity,” and their “transformed combat form.”

In their daily lives, they moved, studied, and worked as their true selves. When they needed to fight alongside each other, act collectively, or handle matters related to the magical girl organization, they uniformly used their transformed state to interact. This maximized the protection of their real identities from exposure, maintaining the rules of this world.

Cases like hers, where an additional, complete, and independent everyday identity—different in appearance and temperament from her transformed state—was provided for long-term living due to the original body’s demise, were extremely rare.

A blush rapidly spread across her cheeks in the mirror. She abruptly averted her gaze, subconsciously turning on the faucet first. The sound of cold running water broke the unsettling silence.

Brushing her teeth and washing her face—these were routine procedures ingrained in her bones, requiring almost no thought.

She picked up the unopened new toothbrush, squeezed on mint toothpaste, and began mechanically cleaning her teeth. Her movements were somewhat slow but very thorough; she didn’t miss the inner, outer, or chewing surfaces, a habit cultivated over decades.

After brushing her teeth came washing her face. Warm, clear water splashed onto her face, carrying the faint scent of facial cleanser, soft to the touch. She gently dried it with a towel, looking at the fresh, yet still unfamiliar, face in the mirror, her emotions complex.

The process felt both familiar and strange. Familiar were the steps, but strange was the astonishing smoothness and firmness of the skin her fingertips touched.

Having completed these tasks, she felt as though she had truly “entered” the bathroom, and once again, she faced the greatest challenge ahead, which could no longer be avoided.

Taking a deep breath, as if bracing for a difficult battle, she began to fumble with her clothes. Her jacket, her skirt… these came off relatively smoothly, though her fingers trembled slightly, not quite obeying her will.

By the time she was left with the thin, soft, and skin-friendly light-colored underwear, her fingers shook so much she could barely grasp the tiny clasp at the back.

Her fingertips inevitably brushed against her smooth back and the unfamiliar curve of her chest.

That softness was a sensation utterly different from her previous self-perception.

The sudden feeling sent a shiver through her, as if struck by a faint, unexpected electric current. She hastily withdrew her hands, her face burning astonishingly, even her earlobes turning crimson.

She remained frozen for several minutes, the only sounds in the bathroom her own increasingly clear, somewhat flustered breathing, and the faint, yet somehow intensifying, silence of the evening breeze from outside the window.

She closed her eyes, recalling the “killer move” she used to employ against recalcitrant children, which ultimately left them no room for argument. It was the only “rational” straw she could grasp now to persuade herself:

“Check for yourself! Smell! Touch! Whether it’s clean or not, you decide! If it’s dirty, there’s no argument—you must wash! No one can intercede!”

Now, it was her turn to “judge” herself.

After a brief struggle and hesitation, she finally steeled her heart, closed her eyes, and, as if stepping into cold water, hastily completed the unavoidable inspection with a speed born of abandoning all thought.

Then, when that unfamiliar, distinct signal arrived, perfectly aligning with the decades of common sense and experience she had accumulated…

Her mind roared, her cheeks instantly flushed as if on fire, and her last shred of hopeful denial crumbled. Whether judged by her deeply ingrained hygiene habits of decades or by the physiological condition of this young body itself, a wash was indeed unavoidable.

Her final excuse for procrastination completely vanished.

Su Xinxin looked at the showerhead on the wall and the pristine white bathtub beside it, and an old-fashioned murmur surfaced in her mind: ‘How much water will be wasted by showering like this? It’s too extravagant. It would be more economical and practical to catch water in a basin and wash bit by bit. Even in summer, showering like this makes it easy to catch a cold…’

But looking around, there was no simple washbasin or dipper like those she remembered. She resigned herself, with a hint of self-abandonment, and turned on the shower, adjusting it to lukewarm, leaning towards cool – ‘at least save some gas?’

The moment the water burst out with a ‘whoosh,’ she flinched as if startled, instinctively squeezing her eyes shut. Her whole body trembled slightly.

The lukewarm-to-cool water hit her skin, raising tiny goosebumps. She frantically lifted her hands, haphazardly rinsing her hair and body, her movements stiff and rushed, splashing water everywhere. But she quickly realized that keeping her eyes tightly shut simply wouldn’t work.

Her meticulous hygiene habits and her obsession with “taking responsibility” and “doing things properly” ultimately triumphed with overwhelming force over her exploding shame and pathetic desire to escape.

She was finally forced to reluctantly open her eyes a tiny slit, her gaze deliberately blurred and unfocused, not daring to fixate on any particular spot, especially avoiding certain areas. Relying on instinct and the steps and key points she remembered from bathing her young grandchildren, she quickly and forcefully, with a hint of ruthlessness, completed the cleaning.