Jasmine was stirred by excitement, yet still a bit uncertain: "What kind of cost will this entail?" In her view, the previous free trial didn't require any cost, so it didn't necessarily mean that future wishes would be the same. Crisp adjusted his high-crowned hat and smiled, saying, "The farthings you pay are the cost, and the corresponding changes you endure after the wish is fulfilled are also the cost." Jasmine nodded slowly, seeming to grasp the idea, and decided to proceed without hesitation, reaching into her pocket to retrieve a few copper farthings to complete her wish. But her pocket was empty—aside from a handkerchief, there was nothing. Having stayed at home for so long, she hadn't handled money for a long time. Previously, she had walked from home to the city square, never having taken the unguessed public horse carriages. "May I go home first?" Jasmine asked, feeling both embarrassed and disappointed. "Of course, that's your freedom—but I can't guarantee the 'fully automatic wishing machine' will always be here waiting for you," said Kline, speaking with the tone of a magician. "Sometimes, it's quite capricious." Jasmine nodded once or twice, thanked him, and turned around, sprinting in the opposite direction toward the city square. As she ran, she felt lighter and lighter, regaining the healthy state she had before her burns, returning to the youthful body of a girl barely eighteen or nineteen. To her, this was a scene that only appeared in dreams. Of course, as a regular person, she began to feel tired after running for a while and had to slow down, gradually shifting to a more leisurely pace. The cool evening breeze blew in, and the stars shimmered one by one through the sky's cloud layers. The trees by the streets gently swayed, casting dancing shadows on the ground. Everything was so quiet and serene—Jasmine felt her body and mind both relaxed, her worries drifting far away. Since her injury, she had never felt this calm—unconsciously, a gentle smile had begun to spread across her face. After walking for about five or six minutes, she suddenly heard her name being called: "Ah, Jasmine?" Jasmine turned her head and saw a familiar face—her former neighbor, Mrs. Hamilton. "Good evening, Mrs. Hamilton. It's been a while since I last saw you. Are you off to the carnival?" Jasmine smiled warmly, genuinely. Mrs. Hamilton, a woman with slightly gray hair, studied Jasmine carefully. "Since you moved away, I haven't seen you at all. I heard you were injured in the earlier bombings?" "Yes, but I've recovered now," Jasmine nodded firmly. Then she asked, "How is Julie doing?" Julie was Mrs. Hamilton's eldest daughter and Jasmine's former playmate. Mrs. Hanmire's expression darkened instantly: "She was bullied by the Fossac people, and thus died..." Jasmine paused, touched by sorrow and recalling her own experience. Fossac soldiers had once come to her home, intent on humiliating her, but upon seeing her scorched face, they had only kicked her and then left. "Poor Julie," Jasmine said, with heartfelt grief, gently tapping four times in a clockwise motion over her chest, drawing the stars. Hearing of her friend's fate, she realized she might, after all, have been rather fortunate. After bidding farewell to Mrs. Hanmire, Jasmine walked back to her apartment building. Upon reaching the entrance of her home, she regained her composure, her spirits lifting, and began to look forward to her parents' reaction upon seeing her once again restored to her original self. They would no longer hold onto their pain, pretending nothing had happened—they would surely burst into tears, embrace me with joy and excitement... Jasmine removed the key hanging at her neck, which served as a pendant, gazing thoughtfully as she opened the door. Inside, it was dimly lit; neither the candles nor the gas lamps had been lit. From the bed in the outer room, a soft, rhythmic snoring came, contrasting with the bustling life on the city square. They were all asleep... Yes, they worked so hard every day. Jasmine gently closed the door and walked to her parents' bedside, quietly gazing at them through the soft, rose-colored moonlight streaming in from the window. Her father now had many more white hairs, and his forehead lines had deepened significantly. Her mother slept with her brow furrowed; her face was dry and flaking, rough and weathered. Only then did Jasmine realize that she had not truly looked at her parents' faces in a long time, and she had no idea how much they had aged. Before the war, her father was an accountant with a decent income, able to afford a row house so that her wife could stay at home and focus on family life. Now, he had to enter a textile factory, doing heavy labor, and Jasmine’s mother had to leave the home to become a textile worker. Her father’s health was deteriorating—he coughed constantly—but he had recently passed the government employee uniform examination, and once the interview results were announced, he would secure a respectable job. Her mother had long complained about her eyes and arms growing increasingly weak. Jasmine watched her parents quietly, without waking them. She had already decided on her second wish. With quiet steps, Jasmine entered the inner room and poured out the last few pennies from her nearly empty savings jar. Then she left the apartment and boarded a streetcar. ——she was afraid of arriving too late, for the “fully automatic wishing machine” had already disappeared. At this moment, the public carriage was crowded, most of the passengers heading to the festival. Jasmine glanced to her left and right, finding no seat, so she steadied herself against the support and stood in the aisle, pressing close to many others. Fifteen minutes later, she alighted at the stop, turning into the same street she had come from. When the yellow copper machine, adorned with several glass panels, came into view, Jasmine breathed a silent sigh of relief and hurried forward. During this time, she scanned the surroundings but did not spot the magician Mr. Merlin Hermes. "Really fully automated—does he really need to be present?" Jasmine murmured in quiet wonder. Without wasting time, she produced a copper coin worth one penny and inserted it into the interior of the "Fully Automated Wishing Machine." "I wish my parents to recover their health and for my family to become prosperous," she softly expressed her wishes, then closed her eyes, waiting for the miracle to unfold. The next instant, she heard a tinkling sound, as if coins had rolled out from within the "Automatic Wishing Machine." Jasmine blinked in surprise, looking forward to see that the one-penny copper coin she had just dropped into the slot had now settled onto a small tray outside the opening. Could this wish not be fulfilled? Hmm—perhaps a wish couldn't contain too many elements? What she had actually wished for was equivalent to two wishes. Having previously experienced recovery from burns, Jasmine didn't doubt that the "Automatic Wishing Machine" was malfunctioning. She thought carefully, then carefully reinserted the one-penny coin into the slot, and, lowering her head, whispered softly: "I wish my parents to recover fully in health." This time, she heard a gentle tapping sound coming from within the machine: "Tap." Seeing the coin remain inside, Jasmine knew her wish had been granted, and she couldn't wait to go home and check on her parents' condition. Holding back her excitement, she inserted the second one-penny coin. She had originally intended to wish for prosperity in the family, but upon considering that her father was likely to become a government employee in Limon, securing a steady income, she found herself thinking of something else. Since she was ten, she had always been aware of how unattractive she was—not because people around her looked down on her or deemed her appearance inadequate, but because among her playmates there were two girls who were particularly beautiful, often receiving special treatment and experiencing the kindness of the world. In comparison, Jasmine inevitably dreamed that as she grew older, she would become more beautiful—yet in reality, that dream remained just a dream. This time, however, the dream might very well come true, because right before her stood a truly magical, miraculous "fully automatic wishing machine." If I could become beautiful, I would surely find a wonderful husband who could improve our family situation... Jasmine felt as though the devil were whispering to her right in her ear, and without being able to control herself, closed her eyes and made her wish: "I hope to become extremely, extremely, extremely beautiful." She used three instances of "extremely" to describe beauty. As soon as she finished speaking, the "door" of the "Fully Automatic Wishing Machine" opened once again, and a silver-white mask was pushed out, covering Jasmine's face. Jasmine blinked open her eyes and just witnessed the mask vanish. At the same time, she seemed to be connected to something. With eager anticipation, she turned her body and once again approached the shop on the street, using the glow of the gas streetlamps and the glass windows to see her current appearance. Jasmine could not precisely describe any specific changes in her facial features or facial contours, but only knew that at this very moment, she was completely immersed in that beauty. Her nose became more defined, her lips fuller, her eyes larger and more luminous, her skin as soft and creamy as milk pudding—she was now barely recognizable from her former self. "This... is it a miracle?" Jasmine genuinely, almost breathlessly, exclaimed. She gazed at herself with deep admiration, only drawing back her gaze after some difficulty, and bowed respectfully to the "Fully Automatic Wishing Machine." Then, her steps became unsteady as she made her way toward the public station platform. Along the way, a steady stream of eyes followed her. Thud! A man, so absorbed in watching her, bumped into the gas lamp post. Jasmine smiled gently, said nothing, and boarded the unstaffed public horse carriage. The carriage was still quite full, all seats occupied. As Jasmine searched for a place to sit, several men rose from their seats, straightened up, and smiled at her. "Madam, you may sit here." Jasmine was momentarily stunned, not expecting to receive so much kindness. She didn’t hesitate, settled nearby, and smiled warmly at the man who had offered her the seat: “Thank you.” The man’s expression became especially animated, modestly saying, “That’s what a gentleman should do.” Jasmine still held onto her previous habit of staying closed in at home, saying little and sitting quietly until she reached her own neighborhood, then getting off the carriage. After walking a few steps, she suddenly felt someone watching her, so she turned to see. There was a man completely drunk, gazing at her with a look that was utterly unappealing. Jasmine was startled and hurried toward her apartment, only to find that each man she encountered along the way was now staring at her with a similar, almost predatory gaze. At that moment, Jasmine felt as though she were walking through the wilderness.