Diamond quickly reached Huanhong—not with some mystical magic, but via phone.
Yinlin asked how it had Huanhong’s contact and why it used a phone.
Diamond didn’t hide it. It wasn’t just lazing at home; it went out, did things.
It had met Jinluan privately, gotten her contact, and done the same with Huanhong.
When mentioning Jinluan, Diamond’s tone was odd, hinting at some grudge.
With Huanhong, it was much lighter.
They set a meeting spot.
It was atop a pillar of a cross-river bridge—hard for humans to reach, but no issue for magical girls.
Huanhong was already there.
Seeing Yinlin, her expression was flat, bordering on disdain.
“If it wasn’t for Diamond, I wouldn’t even wanna see you,” Huanhong said in Cantonese.
Yinlin: “Can’t understand. Speak Mandarin.”
Huanhong: “I said, you’re such a pretty girl.”
Definitely not a compliment—her tone dripped with sarcasm, half irritation, half tantrum.
Was she still hung up on Yinlin nearly blasting her last time?
“Get to the point. Mana and time are precious; I don’t wanna waste them on you,” Huanhong said, still transformed.
Yinlin: “Big sister’s not a jobless drifter? Got things to do?”
Huanhong: “I’ve got classes, okay?”
Yinlin eyed her skeptically.
“What?” Huanhong explained: “What’s wrong with being a student?”
Yinlin’s suspicion deepened, recalling the woman at No. 8 Milk Tea Shop.
She, a 34-year-old, was Yinlin’s pilot.
She had reason to suspect this youthful, vibrant Huanhong was acting.
Yinlin: “Which school?”
Huanhong: “Why should I tell you?”
“Fine, I’m here about a world-saving matter,” Yinlin pivoted, uninterested in digging into magical girls’ real identities. Let them hide.
Huanhong: “You’re not talking about that cadre-level demon you ran into, are you?”
“Yup,” Yinlin wasn’t surprised she guessed. “I’ve got a plan to take it down.”
Huanhong: “Bye, I’ve got class.”
Yinlin grabbed her: “Wait, I’m not done.”
Huanhong: “How long you been out? Not even a month. How long you been a magical girl? Less than that?”
Yinlin: “Not quite a month. So? Big sister planning to ditch the fight?”
Huanhong: “I hate people like you with no sense of limits. You’re strong, I’ll give you that, but do you get what a cadre-level demon is?”
Huanhong got heated. Years in, she knew cadre-level demons well.
Yinlin seemed clueless.
It was like finishing LOL’s tutorial and getting matched against Faker mid-lane.
Huanhong was pissed, thinking Yinlin was too cocky.
She added: “Cadre-level demons are apocalyptic. Humanity’s full force barely holds them off. If humans can’t handle it, what can you and I do?”
Looking at Huanhong’s youthful face, Yinlin calmed down.
She’d misjudged.
Huanhong’s youth wasn’t an act—it was genuine.
Yinlin’s was fake.
Many humans saw magical girls as the main force against demons, but Huanhong, a magical girl herself, instinctively thought humans were the frontline.
To her, humans should deal with cadre-level demons.
Yinlin—Song Wuli—leaned more human, believing magical girls were the main defense, so she wanted to tackle Lightning Man herself, not wait for the Human Alliance.
For the first time, she felt the clash between magical girls and human perspectives. Sending teenage girls to fight ruthless demons never seemed wrong before.
Talking to Huanhong made it hit home: they were just teens!
It was easy to forget, assuming they were adults with mortgages, car loans, and families to support.
They weren’t ready to stand alone.
“What? Something on my face?” Huanhong wiped her mouth.
“Nothing. Forget what I said,” Yinlin replied, skipping the heavy lecture.
She parted ways with Huanhong, flying high near the clouds, mulling over Lightning Man.
She’d been careless.
She assumed most magical girls were kind, natural enemies of demons, and that Jinluan and Huanhong would join her plan.
She overlooked personal emotions.
Without help, she had no shot against Lightning Man.
She flew slowly, planning to rest at home.
Near home, she reverted to Song Wuli.
It felt surreal. After days as Yinlin, returning to Song Wuli was jarring.
Taller perspective, stronger body—but with ailments like rhinitis, nose stuffed again.
Good news: as Song Wuli, he was safe.
No mana trace, indistinguishable from a regular human. No demon could guess his identity.
“Let’s go have fun today,” he said, keeping his promise.
Diamond: “Really? What about work?”
Song Wuli: “Took a few days off. Gotta enjoy it.”
Diamond: “Your body okay?”
Song Wuli threw air punches: “See? Fit as a fiddle.”
After eating and changing, he grabbed a backpack, stuffed Diamond inside, and took public transit to the marine zoo.
Today was pure fun, no other thoughts.
The backpack had an opening for Diamond’s head to poke out.
On the bus and subway, Diamond curiously watched the crowds.
Some noticed it but assumed it was an odd cat, even petting its head.
This was Diamond’s closest brush with normal people, lots of little interactions.
“Mommy, look, kitty head!” a kid pointed at the backpack.
Song Wuli crouched, letting the kid pet Diamond.
Diamond was shy at first but got used to it.
At the marine zoo, Diamond’s excitement soared.
It stared through the glass at animals—first, rare sea fish, once common but now scarce.
“Wow, this fish is weird. Stripes and buckteeth?” Diamond leaned out, eyeing the tank.
“That’s a sergeant major,” Song Wuli said, smiling.
“Wow, what’s that flower-looking thing?”
“Thousand-hand Buddha coral.”
“That flat one with scary patterns?”
“Clown triggerfish.”
Since demons appeared, land and sea became dangerous, with areas sealed off.
Fishing was tough, let alone building facilities for human enjoyment.
The Human Alliance had poured in serious resources.
Diamond’s enthusiasm grew, its tone livelier.
“Look, penguins! Real, live penguins, Yin!” Diamond’s eyes sparkled.
Then came dolphins, orcas, polar bears, even a whale.
Diamond was floored by the whale’s size.
Despite years on Earth, it had never seen this, its first zoo trip.
First time seeing animals from books and movies in person.
Diamond’s excitement rubbed off on Song Wuli, who threw himself into the outing.
Honestly, he hadn’t visited a zoo in years, too focused on work, rarely relaxing.
They watched dolphin and orca shows, hooked.
Happy times flew by—blink, and it was dark.
At dusk, they reluctantly left the zoo.
Diamond said: “Thanks, Yin.”
Song Wuli smiled—he’d had a blast too.
On the way back, he stopped at a pharmacy: “Boss, some thick Band-Aids.”