They say eyes are windows to the soul—but they’re not LED screens broadcasting every flicker of emotion, especially when feelings run this deep and tangled.

More often than not, Jiang Qianyu could only guess at someone’s mood from subtle shifts in their gaze or expression.

But right now? She was certain: the little girl’s tears held mostly guilt and sorrow.

Her trembling voice, her tears, her downcast eyes—every detail whispered her turmoil.

A nine-year-old crying this hard.

Any outsider would assume Jiang Qianyu had punished her.

Yet the trigger was nothing more than breakfast.

Even Jiang Qianyu couldn’t fathom why.

This guilt shouldn’t be here. Fear? Anxiety? She’d understand—given the girl’s harsh past.

Frankly, this “wicked mother” cooking breakfast might’ve felt like a “last meal” to little Dong Qing.

Making her wonder: *Did I mess up? Will I be scolded? Abandoned?*

Home was tough, her mother cold—but it was still *home*. Better than the lonely, hostile orphanage.

In Bai Dongqing’s world, work meant reward. Scolding meant failure.

So why guilt?

Guilt for waking late? For making her disabled mother cook?

None of it fit.

Jiang Qianyu wiped Bai Dongqing’s tears, gently clasped her small hands. “Dong Qing, what’s wrong? Tell Mom.”

“I’m sorry, Mom… I… I…" Her voice hitched. Eyes darting away, refusing to meet Jiang Qianyu’s gaze.

A chill prickled Jiang Qianyu’s spine—something was off.

“It’s okay. Mom’s here. No need to apologize. Whatever happened, I forgive you.”

She stroked Bai Dongqing’s hair, softening her tone. Truth was, seeing her daughter cry like this made her heart ache.

Bai Dongqing buried herself in Jiang Qianyu’s arms, clinging tight. She wanted to apologize—but knew some things couldn’t be undone.

*Right or wrong? Who could she even ask?*

Tears soaked Jiang Qianyu’s shirt; her eyes were swollen red.

“Mom… I made a wish… I… I wished you’d love me a little more…”

Bai Dongqing finally steadied her breath.

Those words froze Jiang Qianyu’s blood. After a long silence: “Sweetie, bring Mom the black notebook.”

Now it clicked.

The black notebook had followed them into this life.

Bai Dongqing must’ve wished for a kinder mother—and the notebook granted it.

Just not how she imagined.

Her mother’s soul had vanished. Replaced by Jiang Qianyu’s.

One night of quiet coexistence left doubt. This morning’s impossibly gentle breakfast shattered it.

*She killed her.*

Her own mother.

Staring at the surreal breakfast, then at her mother’s transformed eyes—she realized the terrible mistake.

Bai Dongqing felt things plainly. No excuses. No self-deception.

Too young to untangle the why.

She lifted her face. Met Jiang Qianyu’s gaze.

Those eyes—calm, gentle, like a clear spring.

So unfamiliar. Yet so familiar.

A quiet weight lifted. Moments ago, she couldn’t bear to look.

She lowered her head again, nodding faintly. “Okay, Mom…”

Minutes later, the black notebook lay in Jiang Qianyu’s hands.

Exactly as she remembered. Not a detail changed.

Bai Dongqing stood stiffly nearby, head bowed, knuckles white gripping her shirt hem. Ready to be sent back. *Deserving* it.

Jiang Qianyu didn’t glance up. She opened the cover.

The swirling dark aura faded—acknowledging her as its “master.”

Flipping pages: all past wishes gone. Only blank paper remained.

Except the first page. A crooked, childish line:

*"I wish Mom could love me a little more."*

No surprise. With barely a sliver of mortal soul left last life, giving her daughter a second chance was already a miracle.

She’d made three wishes then: a new life, no longer a Witch, erased memories.

But that wasn’t the puzzle.

How did Bai Dongqing *know* her mother’s soul was replaced?

If the wish simply “worked,” this *was* what she wanted—a gentler mom.

She was just a child. She wouldn’t ponder souls or possession.

…Though raised between two mothers—one a Witch, one a Witch Hunter—maybe she knew more than expected.

Cautiously, Jiang Qianyu asked: “Dong Qing, how did you get this notebook? What happened when you wished? Tell Mom everything.”

No scolding came. Bai Dongqing blinked, thoughtful. “Um… Last week, I dreamed of a beautiful aunt. She asked if I wanted Mom to love me more. I said yes… and she gave me this.”

“She said I could write one wish. But after… everything I’d lost would come back…”

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