Chapter 1022 – Mo Lan’s Lazy Daily Life 6

The enormous surprise made her little face flush crimson in an instant, even the tips of her ears turning an adorable shade of pink.

She looked up at the beaming Mo Lan, then at her mother beside her who wore the same gentle smile, and finally her gaze fell back on the mountain of gifts piled before her. For a moment she didn’t know which one to look at first, so dizzy with happiness she could barely think straight.

Mo Lan floated another pile of gifts over to Dayla. “Grandma, these are the gifts I brought for you!”

“You child… just coming to see me is more than enough. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble preparing so many things.” Dayla looked at the gifts, somewhat overwhelmed by the gesture.

“It’s only right. They’re nothing extravagant, but I thought you might find them useful…” Mo Lan said, a touch embarrassed. “Besides, I’ll be troubling you to share your parenting wisdom with me!”

“Parenting wisdom?” Dayla was surprised at first, then asked with a knowing smile, “You’re thinking of nurturing a little witch of your own?”

Mo Lan nodded honestly. “I do have that idea. So I wanted to come learn from you first, understand things better, and once I feel ready in every way, then consider planting a Witch’s Tree!”

“That’s exactly the right approach!” Dayla said with feeling. “Your mother Shana, back when she was expecting you, was completely unprepared. She had only graduated a few years prior and was still busy saving money. She hadn’t even built her Witch’s home yet when she suddenly learned she was nurturing a new little life. She was utterly flustered.

During that time, she’d write me over a dozen letters a day, each one brimming with anxiety.”

Dayla mimicked what Shana’s tone must have been like back then, capturing it perfectly: “‘Mom, my Mana fluctuations felt a bit strange today — could something be wrong with the baby?’ ‘Mom, I dreamed the baby wasn’t a witch, what do I do?’ ‘Mom, how can I tell if she’s healthy?’ ‘Mom, what if I end up being a bad influence on my child?’… And so on and so forth, an endless stream of questions, some of which were so absurd you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

I would comfort her again and again, telling her everything would be fine, that a witch’s body and Mana circulation would naturally protect and adapt to the nurturing of a new life. I told her to relax, to feel the wonder of the life connection, and to worry less about things that didn’t warrant worrying.

But the anxiety and sense of responsibility that comes with being a mother for the first time — you truly can’t fully understand it without having experienced it yourself.

It wasn’t until she safely brought you into the world that her anxiousness finally began to settle.

So the fact that you’re already thinking about it now, already learning, already preparing — rather than waiting for a ‘surprise’ to arrive and scrambling to cope — that’s already a wonderful start.

Nurturing a life is a momentous undertaking. Learning in advance about the situations you might encounter, the adjustments to your daily rhythm, the knowledge and supplies you’ll need to prepare, and most importantly, getting yourself into the right mindset — all of this will help you be more composed and at ease in the future, and better able to enjoy the entire process!”

“Thank you for telling me all this, Grandma Dayla,” Mo Lan said sincerely. “Hearing you say that puts my mind so much more at ease. It seems that studying ahead and seeking guidance really is essential.”

“Come, let’s go inside. We can chat properly over tea!” Dayla affectionately linked her arm through Mo Lan’s and walked toward the treehouse.

The interior of the treehouse was far more spacious and bright than it appeared from outside, filled with a warm, lived-in atmosphere.

The natural wood furniture had smooth, flowing lines, casually adorned with soft woven cushions. Scattered across the low table were several drawings done in colorful crayons, bursting with childlike imagination. In the corners stood half-built “castles” of building blocks, and a few plush dolls so well-loved by their owner that their fur had gone endearingly disheveled.

On the mantelpiece above the fireplace stood an entire row of picture frames in various sizes.

In every photograph, Dayla wore the same warm smile, with girls of different ages nestled beside her — her daughters from various periods of her life.

In the very center, in the largest silver frame, was an oil painting. In it, a young Dayla cradled the still-wrinkly newborn Shana, her gaze so tender it could melt. And standing at Dayla’s side was a young human girl in an exquisite dress.

That was Grand Duke Clara as a child — the girl Dayla had once cared for as a godmother.

“Sit anywhere you like, make yourself at home.”

Dayla called out as she turned and walked toward the small open kitchen nearby.

The tea area was perfectly positioned, with a nearly floor-to-ceiling window that offered a clear view of the lawn outside.

Little Leila was crouching beside her “gift mountain.” Rather than rushing to unwrap the most lavishly packaged ones, she had taken a keen interest in Sentai, who had just climbed down from the flying carpet.

Sentai extended a slender, supple vine, and at its tip, a tiny white flower the size of a grain of rice magically coalesced and bloomed. She offered it to little Leila to make her smile.

Little Leila let out a delighted “Oh!” and carefully accepted the little flower, cupping it in her palms and examining it again and again. Then she looked up at Sentai and flashed a big, gap-toothed grin.

“It seems they’re getting along quite well.” Dayla came over carrying a tea tray, catching this very scene, and the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes deepened.

She set a fragrant cup of herbal tea, shimmering with the power of blessings, before Mo Lan.

Mo Lan accepted the warm teacup. The rising steam carried the fragrance of chamomile, lemongrass, and a hint of some unidentifiable wildflower. She looked at Dayla and asked the question that had been circling in her heart — the very question that had brought her here:

“Grandma, do you think… raising a little witch is a happy thing?”

“Of course. Little witches are born understanding the Witch language, their souls are pure and crystalline, and they’re kind by nature. The process of raising them is an absolute joy!”

Dayla sat down across from her, her gaze following the tiny figure outside the window:

“You’ll remember the first time she clearly calls you ‘Mama,’ then toddles over and throws herself into your arms without a moment’s hesitation — that trust and dependence.

You’ll treasure the first painting she scrawls on paper with her chubby little hands, one that no one else can make sense of.

That painting might be crumpled and smeared with jam, but simply because it’s the first gift your child ever gave you, it becomes a priceless treasure.”

Dayla’s voice gradually took on a complex, profound emotion:

“Then you’ll watch her grow, little by little, from a tiny bean into a young witch.

You’ll watch her leave home, go to the Magic Academy to make new friends and learn all manner of Magic. You’ll look forward to each of her letters, rejoice at every small step of progress, and ache for her setbacks — but even more, you’ll feel the pride of letting her spread her wings and fly!

Until the day they graduate and begin their own independent lives, venturing out into the wider world, with dreams and paths of their own.

You will have participated in and witnessed the full blossoming of a complete life. That sense of fulfillment, I believe, is something no magical research or personal achievement can ever compare to!”

(End of Chapter)