Chapter 90
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Chapter 90: Chu Yuanqing the Magical Girl, Tang Liuli’s Past
Coffee shop, bathroom.
The floor was covered in deep red blood, swirling like a hellish painting that haunted the eyes.
The person, overflowing with a sense of brokenness, beautiful yet fragile, seemed to cry out for salvation. Coughing up blood, the color of roses, she gazed upward, her clear and gentle eyes filled with complex emotions.
These two conflicting images collided violently, stimulating the mind in a whirlwind of sensations. The colors blurred into black-red and pure white blocks, only to be replaced by the color of those eyes.
That golden glow.
It was as though a golden tulip had been crushed in a porcelain bowl, and the language of that flower had become a nightmare that had plagued her for years.
——Love of despair.
Chu Yuanqing’s glittering gaze seemed to bring redemption.
Yet, that redemption itself was the very trigger for the outbreak of the disease.
At that moment, childhood memories began to play out like a reel of film deep within her consciousness.
Her mother, having just finished reading a fairy tale book, gently placed it down. She looked at her daughter, wrapped in a blanket on the bed, a porcelain doll of innocence. Her hand reached up to arrange the girl’s messy hair, soft words falling from her lips:
“Liuli, do you know?”
“The real Liuli needs to go through selecting, mixing, crushing, washing, refining, molding, and more than twenty other processes to become a true work of art.”
“Mom loves you, loves you so much, so… you will meet my expectations, won’t you?”
Memories resurfaced in fragments.
Tang Liuli’s childhood had been warm and normal. Even though she entered the entertainment industry at the age of six—a tough choice for outsiders—her family was, at least, exemplary.
Her mother, born in Daxia, went abroad after college and became a well-known sculptor. Her father, from Gloreya, though struggling, was handsome, talented, and dreamt of becoming a painter.
They shared a love for traveling, seeking inspiration in different parts of the world. Their paths crossed in a foreign town not far from an active volcano, where they fell in love.
Her mother was kind, and her father, though somewhat distant, was still a figure of normalcy.
By the time Tang Liuli turned ten, her natural talents were recognized, leading her to many acting opportunities. But as the pressure to perform grew, her spirit began to wither. The atmosphere at home changed, subtly influenced by her parents’ attitudes and the increasing demands from the film crew.
Despite being seen as a prodigy by the outside world, Tang Liuli faced challenges. Lacking proper training, she relied on raw talent and spirit, yet sometimes struggled to engage the empathy required for her roles.
Her performances fluctuated, leading to delays and missed expectations from the director.
In her mother’s eyes, this wasn’t simply a lack of skill—it was a failure in the polishing process, one that needed her intervention to correct.
Her mother’s initial patience gave way to emotional abuse—sharp words, erratic behavior, and exaggerated gestures.
Soon, her mother began acting out the movie scripts, forcing Tang Liuli to live out these roles in real life, drawing her deeper into a method acting experience.
What was truly terrifying, though, was the brilliance with which Tang Liuli embodied each character, as if she had no life outside of her roles, save for the time spent sleeping.
If she resisted or made too many mistakes, the punishment was swift: a cold, disappointed gaze from her mother and the threat of fasting.
“Why can’t you even do this?”
“Liuli, doesn’t Mom love you so much?”
“It’s strange… it shouldn’t be like this. Where did the problem arise?”
“No, you must go down in history, you must amaze the world, you must shine in the world, or… or you’ll be a failure.”
Failure.
Tang Liuli would never forget the coldness in her mother’s eyes when she spoke those words. The indifference in her face, her piercing tone—it felt like needles piercing her soul.
From that moment on, each breath was heavy with the ache in her heart.
This nightmare continued for months, until it came to an abrupt end just before Tang Liuli was on the brink of a mental breakdown.
Her mother returned to normal, guilty and sorrowful, holding Tang Liuli tightly, apologizing for her actions.
As a way of making amends, she canceled a movie script appointment for the first time and took the family on a world tour.
It was the happiest time of Tang Liuli’s life.
There were no exams to worry about, no fear of disappointing her parents, no pressure on set. She could finally relax, indulge in the joy of travel, and forget about the artificial lives in the movies and TV shows.
For once, she could be herself, carefree and free from the weight of the world.
Her mother took her to all the places she had traveled to before—the desolate volcanoes on the moon’s surface, the Earth’s heart with blue flames, and Salzburg, where the streets played the Croatian Rhapsody.
This trip was like her mother recounting her own journey to the daughter she loved.
On the 47th day, they arrived in Bollendorf. Medieval villages, vast vineyards, and lush green hills dotted with mustard fields surrounded them. Tang Liuli would spend her 11th birthday in a nearby castle.
As memories of this trip blurred, Tang Liuli subconsciously protected herself, and only quick flashbacks remained.
In the twilight, fields of golden wheat, a birthday cake with candles, a messy studio splattered with paint, and her father’s sad yet hopeful gaze came and went.
Her mother arrived, as if having forgiven all past grievances.
She seemed like the heroine in a play by Carmen Vaz, climbing the castle with a ladder, resembling a crowned sun king in the sunset. At other times, she was as wild as Odin in Nordic mythology, practicing hanging upside down on the spire.
In that twilight, the castle seemed to burn brightly.
Young Tang Liuli, not yet understanding the situation, was urged by her excited father to imitate her mother.
And then, her special ability to understand others’ emotions activated, reaching its peak. In an instant, she entered the “Heart Flow” state.
Her mother’s terrifying obsession became fuel for a whirlwind of thoughts, burning intensely in the beautiful sunset. It heightened the “Heart Flow” energy, causing Tang Liuli to ascend levels after levels.
Her mother’s thoughts, love, madness, and wishes surged towards Tang Liuli, embracing her soul, as they imprinted upon her, completing the final stage of the “artwork.”
Suddenly, the memories came to a halt.
Perhaps they were interrupted by strong resistance.
Tang Liuli took a step back, her delicate body sliding down the brown doorway, nearly collapsing in exhaustion.
Her dark hair was messy, her emerald eyes filled with tears that fell like broken threads. She bit her lip, stubborn and sad, as she struck her hand against the tiles with such force that it left a bloodstained mark.
“No, I don’t want to. I refuse to become like you.”
“I won’t inherit that cursed schizophrenia! Nor will I become a broken person like my father!”
Tang Liuli hugged herself in fear, muttering as if in a dream:
“I’m not crazy, I’m not a failure, I’m not just a prop for your art. Someone will love me. Many will love me. I… I…”
Her voice was drowned in animal-like sobs as she clung to herself, as if she had never been hugged before.
Her fingers gripped the fabric tightly, a picture of loneliness and fear, like a kitten trapped in a dark alley.
Chu Yuanqing stood in stunned silence, confusion written on her face. But then, as realization dawned, she was overwhelmed with self-blame and guilt.
Tang Liuli was suffering, her mental trauma awakened by this very situation—one triggered by Chu Yuanqing herself.
“What should I do?”
Chu Yuanqing crouched beside Tang Liuli, gently patting the child’s head, but there was no response. It was as though Tang Liuli was entirely lost in her own world, perhaps even slipping into the “Heart Flow” state.
In this fragile state of mental instability, the air was thick with an ominous weight, the dangerous emotion of imminent breakdown swirling around them. It felt suffocating, like a dark cloud settling in the bathroom.
Chu Yuanqing coughed lightly, a faint trace of red on her lips. Despite the growing pressure, she embraced the curled-up girl, her hand stroking her back in a comforting motion. Concern marked her face as she spoke softly, her voice filled with compassion.
“Liuli’s ability to imitate and immerse herself only traps her in a never-ending loop,” she murmured. “I need to find a way to offer her positive encouragement, help her break free, and restore her stability.”
The vivid recollection of that nightmare unfolded before Chu Yuanqing’s eyes, each image of the woman’s lingering memories intensifying. It was as though the haunting images were crawling back into her mind, relentlessly, like maggots clinging to bone.
Inadvertently, Chu Yuanqing had opened the Pandora’s box within Tang Liuli’s mind. Though she hadn’t uncovered the full truth, her sharp intuition led her to suspect the devastating impact of this tragedy. A heavy weight of guilt settled over her.
What could she do? What kind of behavior would truly help Tang Liuli?
Her mind raced through the girl’s recent self-talk and behavior, reflecting on their first few encounters. Tang Liuli’s mother had to be a deeply complicated figure, one whom she both loved and loathed. This complex relationship likely contributed to the child’s psychological suffering.
It was often said that the one who could unravel the issue had to first tie up the loose ends. If Tang Liuli’s emotional scars had been shaped by a twisted and distorted motherly love, could offering her the right kind of warmth and affection heal those wounds?
Chu Yuanqing felt a pang of doubt. Could she provide the maternal love Tang Liuli needed? She didn’t know, but all she could do now was try to comfort her as best as she could — offering a hug, easing her emotional turmoil, even as she fought her own physical pain, coughing up blood and stammering through a bedtime story.
This time, she chose “Collection of Stillness”, the story she hadn’t shared before.
Her voice dropped into a soft, soothing whisper, tender and gentle. It wrapped around Tang Liuli like a warm blanket, the quiet charm of her words lulling the room into peace. The pendant lamp above swayed with the change in mood, casting gentle light that highlighted her aura of calm and kindness.
For a brief moment, the room seemed to settle into tranquility. The sobs in her arms softened, as though the world itself had wrapped them in its embrace. The quiet seemed to heal, as her voice became a balm to soothe the girl’s tortured mind.
Tang Liuli’s consciousness, buried in darkness, seemed to flicker to life. Each line of the story pierced through the dark cocoon of her mind, slowly dispelling the fog, and actively severing the pull of the “Heart Flow.”
But even as the childhood shadow receded, the girl’s heart was still heavy with unresolved grief. The gentleness of Chu Yuanqing’s presence became an emotional outlet for her pain.
The more she thought about it, the more her sadness grew. The flood of bitterness and injustice within her broke through, crashing like a tsunami, flooding her heart. Tears spilled freely, uncontrollable. She clung to Chu Yuanqing’s waist, burying her face against her chest, crying out in deep sorrow.
Chu Yuanqing was at a loss, unsure how to handle the flood of emotions. The overwhelming abstract nature of the situation left her terrified. What should she do? How could she help? She wasn’t accustomed to comforting crying girls, let alone in a situation so complex.
She tried to imagine what would happen if anyone else walked in right now. The scene would likely lead to someone either calling the police, thinking a crime had occurred, or rushing to call an ambulance, concerned about the blood.
Her mind raced. Could she really afford to withdraw from the competition? It wasn’t like she could get reimbursed by the program group. She’d been there for less than two weeks, and the payment for a month’s work wasn’t even close to enough.
No, she had to calm Liuli down right away. The girl needed to be pacified — immediately.
Despite her own discomfort, Chu Yuanqing gently pressed Liuli’s shoulder, slowly moving her head away from her chest.
Shortly after, she cradled Tang Liuli’s face, wiping away the tears, her voice tender but firm as she comforted her.
“Please, don’t cry, okay?”
“Trust me, you won’t turn out like your mom. You’ve always tried so hard, and that struggle — it’s painful, isn’t it?”
“You’re a kind and gentle soul. You’ll grow into a good person, even if you don’t become an actor or an idol. You can still bring joy to others.”
“There are people who love you, many who admire you.”
“You’ve got a lot of fans, right? I saw them cheering for you, holding lightsticks during your performances. They’ve been following you for six years. Doesn’t that prove you’re worthy of their love?”
“I believe, just like I love the character you play, Magical Girl Delaina, many others love the roles you bring to life. Your performances give them strength, healing, and solace.”
“So please, don’t doubt yourself. Don’t despise who you are. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“You’re already more amazing at 11 than many adults. You have so much talent. Even if you waste a little time, it’s okay. Even if you’re a bit stubborn, that’s part of what makes you lovely. Even if you focus on yourself sometimes, it’s alright.”
As she spoke, the tears began to slow, and the crying faded.
Chu Yuanqing’s words rang with a strange familiarity, echoing the “failure” she remembered from her own past. The difference was stark: where her mother’s words had cut deeply like ice, these were like sunlight, warming and melting the long-held shadows in her heart.
Such a gentle person. It was a kindness she had only felt from Honey Qing before.
As Tang Liuli’s thoughts slowly cleared, something clicked. She looked at the figure in front of her, still coughing up blood despite her suffering. Through her tear-blurred vision, the girl began to realize who she was staring at.
The face was familiar, but unfamiliar, too. With golden eyes, white hair shining like an angel, and lips both beautiful and sorrowful — it was unmistakably Chu Yuanqing.
Could it be? Could Chu Yuanqing be… a magical girl?
Tang Liuli’s heart raced. She blinked, her tear-streaked face showing an innocent confusion. She almost cried again, but quickly embraced Chu Yuanqing, stuttering as she spoke.
“I’m sorry, Qing Qing. Even though… even though you were coughing up blood to the point of death, you still… sob… took the effort to comfort me. I’m useless. I deserve to die. I’m the sinner of the world.”
Chu Yuanqing, feeling more than a little confused, patted Tang Liuli’s head and tried to explain.
“Don’t cry, this is all a trick. Use your brain for a second. Who could vomit blood like that and still talk normally?”
Tang Liuli paused, wiped her eyes, and sniffed the air. There was no scent of blood. Instead, she smelled a delicate, floral fragrance. Looking around, she realized the blood on the floor was glowing faintly.
“What’s going on here?” she asked, still bewildered.
Chu Yuanqing suppressed her guilt and decided to run with the situation, smiling mischievously.
“Didn’t you notice my look? Golden contact lenses and a white wig.”
“A makeup artist said it suited me better, so I’m testing it out for a performance video. I was just practicing in front of the mirror when I accidentally knocked over the blood prop.”
Her explanation was smooth and convincing. It made perfect sense, and there was no immediate reason to doubt her.
“Is that so?” Tang Liuli nodded, still looking relieved.
But deep inside, her sharp mind was already working through the possibilities, piecing together clues. Could it be that Chu Yuanqing was… a magical girl?
