Chapter 18: The Toilet

In no time, Fu Linxing sent a long, detailed message.

“Last night, she had just gotten off work and returned home when Aunt Xiao Han called. She stormed out again, muttering something about Wanda as she left. Then today, I saw that video and the background looked familiar. Checking the comments, it was indeed our local Wanda! Coincidentally, we have a portrait of the same one at home. I wondered if the artist was Old He!”

Had He Yue been at the scene yesterday? Or was it Xiao Han who called her over…?

Fu Lan thought it over; the notice must have been sent before they met.

If that’s the case…

So Xiao Han was following behind her to catch her in the act—no wonder her expression looked like that!

Sigh, all this time I thought she had recognized Shi Ningyu…

As for Fu Linxing’s conclusion that He Yue was the magical girl at the attack scene based on just this, even considering the portrait, wasn’t it a bit too hasty?

Fu Lan rubbed his chin, feeling that his son’s intellect should be higher than that. This guy used to concoct elaborate scripts just to get one more bite of ice cream, performing with uncanny realism.

“What are you thinking? If your mom were that person, could she have been friends with Aunt Xiao Han for so many years? Besides, look at your mom’s age—she’s older than those three magical girls combined. Does she seem like the type who could transform?”

Outside, He Yue’s series of sneezes startled Fu Linxing in the bathroom. After confirming everything was fine, he resumed fretting over his phone.

That stubborn Old Fu just wouldn’t take the bait!

Right from the start, he didn’t truly believe his mom was a magical girl.

Ever since confirming the identity of the girl in the painting with Zhong Zihao at dusk, he’d been troubled over the portrait.

Zhong Zihao advised him to return the painting quickly and apologize to Fu Lan on his knees.

“When I stole my dad’s external hard drive disguised as a joystick, I handled it like that, and he forgave me,” Zhong Zihao recalled with lingering fear. “But when I once stole his money and denied it, I got beaten up badly twice. So I suggest you behave.”

Fu Linxing, however, held the painting, deep in thought, looking reluctant.

Zhong Zihao urged again, “Don’t be wishful. Your dad knows you took the painting and has hinted at giving you a chance. What else do you want to do?

“You saw the stuff on the anonymous forum—that’s not your ordinary magical girl!

“Keeping this painting is like harboring the top wanted criminal! I don’t want to see one day when a bunch of magical cops burst into class and handcuff you. I might even get caught up in it…”

Fu Linxing hesitated, “But if I return it to my dad, isn’t that the same as our family harboring a criminal?”

“Do you think your dad doesn’t have connections just because he has that painting? Let him handle it. Pretend you never saw it. The magical bureau isn’t like the police; they show no mercy even to underage girls. You, a reserve rookie, think you’ll just luck out and end up in a juvenile detention center? They might have interrogation methods waiting for you!”

Seeing Zhong Zihao breaking out in a sweat, Fu Linxing felt guilty—he hadn’t expected things to escalate like this and might drag his good friend into trouble.

Still, he thought the situation wasn’t as dire as Zhong Zihao imagined; after all, no one had ever heard of someone being arrested for harboring a magical girl. The bureau had principles and rarely involved ordinary people.

But was Old Fu an ordinary person?

He probably didn’t possess magic; otherwise, Aunt Xiao Han would have arrested him long ago. Yet he had a magical artifact connected to the magical girl Xuan Xin Shi. How to explain that?

That was Fu Linxing’s dilemma. The painting had to be returned, but knowing his dad’s nature, once he took the painting, he’d keep quiet and never speak again.

But there were still many questions left unanswered. He had to seize this last chance to extract more information.

So he deliberately made a wrong assumption, hoping to trigger Fu Lan’s natural tendency to correct mistakes and thus coax information out of him. At the same time, he planned to throw out a bigger contradiction while admitting fault to divert attention and escape punishment.

This was Fu Linxing’s accumulated experience in long-standing battles.

In the end, his dad didn’t fall for it at all!

“You’re right, I was stupid not to think of that,” Fu Linxing immediately conceded.

He then pasted a pre-written sentence into the input box and sent it:

“But Old Fu, this painting is an extremely, extremely, extremely dangerous illegal item! Aren’t you afraid of getting into trouble with that bureau if you keep it? Even if you’re not worried, you have to consider me and Old He, right? How do you know that woman? Are you willing to ruin our family for her?”

He expected this soul-searching question to take a long time for Fu Lan to respond, but within ten seconds, he got an answer.

“Tear it up.”

“???”

“Tear the painting, flush it down the toilet, or burn it. But I suggest flushing it—using fire suddenly might seem strange to your mom.”

Fu Linxing reread twice to confirm he wasn’t mistaken.

Shocked, he typed quickly: “Isn’t this something very important to you?”

“Since it’s so dangerous, it’s better to destroy it. Don’t bring it to me again, or it might be detected en route. After last night’s incident, security has tightened up.”

That made sense, yet Fu Linxing hesitated: “This is a painting of your crush. Are you really willing to flush it down the toilet?”

“Who told you it’s a crush?”

Information acquired—hooray!

Fu Linxing clenched his fist in celebration, finally getting a line out of him after much effort.

But before he could enjoy it for two seconds, Fu Lan retracted the message and sent a new one:

“Stop wasting time. Start a video, tear it up, and flush it. I’ll answer one question truthfully. Remember to mute your media first.”

Fu Linxing froze—such a good deal? Immediately, he tried to bargain. Before he finished typing, another message arrived.

“If you dare send anything else, you won’t get even one question. But I will definitely destroy the painting. Hiding it won’t help.”

Fu Linxing lowered his hand holding the phone and struck the classic “Thinker” pose on the toilet.

After a moment, he put on his pants, took out the painting hidden in his pocket—originally to help corroborate his dad’s testimony on the spot.

He unfolded it; despite being folded twice, the paper bore no crease. He sighed, muted his phone, and initiated a video call to Fu Lan.

The video connected, but the screen was pitch black. Old He was right—he even guarded against his own son, Fu Linxing thought bitterly.

Better to tear it up. At least now, it was confirmed that the magical girl in the painting was Xuan Xin Shi, the same as in the video, and his father had a deep connection with her.

Was that really true…?

Forget it, the more he thought, the more confused he got. At least after tearing it up, he could ask one more question.

Determined, Fu Linxing rested his phone on the sink and tore the painting before the camera. Surprisingly, such a magical artifact could be torn so plainly.

After tearing it, he crumpled the pieces into a ball, picked up the phone, aimed at the toilet, and flushed the paper down.

He didn’t fake it and even filmed the crucial steps clearly, fearing Fu Lan would suspect otherwise. Honestly, his dad’s sudden pressure made him nervous; he’d never heard him speak like that before…

After flushing, Fu Lan cut the video and sent a single character:

“Ask.”

Ask—what question to ask?

How do you know her? Where did you get this painting—did she give it to you? People on the anonymous forum say she should have lost her powers long ago. If Old He is too old to transform, why can she?

What is your relationship with her? What about those fanfics? Does Old He know about you two?

Did you divorce Old He because of her…?

Fu Linxing’s eyes blurred; he almost dropped the phone into the toilet. Shaking his head hard, he solemnly typed one sentence:

“Will you still divorce my mom?”

Seeing these words on the screen, Fu Lan was momentarily dazed.

Then, a nameless feeling suddenly gripped his heart. His breathing grew heavier, gasping as if drowning.

Why that question? Why not about the painting? Why was this the one that mattered most?

His heart ached as if weighed down. He didn’t want to face that feeling, nor the memories flooding his mind. Once clear, he would never move forward again.

“Yes.”

He seemed to summon all his strength to press that one word.

Fu Linxing stared blankly at the phone until He Yue impatiently knocked on the door.

“Fu Linxing, are you stuck? It’s been so long since you flushed, what are you doing in there? Hurry up, I need to use it—I’ve been waiting forever.”

He snapped out of it, quickly put away the phone, and turned on the tap.

“All right, all right, just washing my hands.”

A while later, he opened the door and, under He Yue’s suspicious gaze, shuffled out of the bathroom, lost in thought.

Once the door closed, he pulled out his phone again, glanced at the messages, then scrolled down in resistance. He selected all the chat records from this secret conversation and deleted them.

Fu Lan leaned back in his chair for a long time, slowly recovering, then also deleted the records.

Then, he weakly snapped his fingers, and the painting reappeared intact in his hands, like ashes reversing back.

Living was such a hassle.

He stared silently into the darkness within the painting and quietly decided its next hiding place. This time, no more accidents.

Setting the painting down, he pressed his now painless chest, opened his medicine box, and took a few pills.

Then, he turned his gaze to the cash in the paper bag, struggling to suppress the chaotic thoughts crawling up his spine.

Luckily, he thought, luckily he had already decided to die.