In the car, Qiao Qi held a cup of milk tea in both hands, a straw between her lips, eyes wandering here and there. Her eyes were naturally large, and to match today’s outfit, her eye makeup leaned toward orange tones, adding a touch of warmth to the cool early-October air.

Sitting there so obediently, cradling her milk tea, she looked somehow younger.

Very much like an ordinary young girl.

Liang Yan couldn’t say exactly when it had started, but the way he looked at Qiao Qi had changed at some point.

The cool, mature air that belonged to Cheng Yanyun was gradually being replaced by something more genuine.

As if she’d suddenly come alive.

Without meaning to, Liang Yan found himself staring, lost in thought.

Qiao Qi noticed, slowly rolling her eyes over to glance sideways at Liang Yan.

Their eyes met, and Qiao Qi abruptly arched an eyebrow.

Liang Yan startled slightly, his first instinct to immediately look away, pretending nothing had happened.

Thoroughly guilty behavior.

Qiao Qi: “…?”

She let go of the straw and turned to look straight at Liang Yan.

Under her unrelenting stare, Liang Yan grew uncomfortable and simply pulled out his phone to fiddle with instead.

Though the corner of his eye kept drifting over to Qiao Qi beside him.

After several such glances, he realized Qiao Qi showed no sign whatsoever of looking away, and that she seemed to possess some kind of innate ability to never feel embarrassed herself, nor register anyone else’s embarrassment either.

Exasperated by her staring, Liang Yan switched off his phone and turned to counterattack instead. “What are you looking at.”

Qiao Qi: “…?”

“Weren’t you the one looking at me first?”

“How would you know I was looking at you if you weren’t looking at me?” Liang Yan reasoned, full of confidence.

Qiao Qi: “???”

That actually worked as logic?

She pressed her lips together and reached out to poke Liang Yan’s arm with one finger.

The poke sent a shiver through Liang Yan’s whole body, and he immediately leaned away, putting a full person’s width of distance between them.

Like dodging a snake or a rat.

Qiao Qi grew even more displeased, even frowning.

Seeing her frown, Liang Yan cleared his throat lightly and said, feigning nonchalance, “If you want to talk, just talk — no need to get handsy.”

Qiao Qi glanced at him and answered with a cold laugh.

Then she deliberately scooted over, pressing herself against the opposite car window.

The gesture was clearly meant for Liang Yan to see.

Liang Yan wasn’t blind — he saw it perfectly clearly, and after seeing it, felt an inexplicable pang of guilt.

So he slowly straightened up and, while still fiddling with his phone, casually inched his way back toward Qiao Qi.

The distance between the two of them shrank, and shrank further — until a cup of milk tea was set down between them.

Halting all of Liang Yan’s movement.

Liang Yan paused, lifting his eyelids to glance at Qiao Qi.

Qiao Qi was thoroughly indifferent. “Careful, don’t spill it. Cleaning the car is such a hassle.”

Liang Yan: “…”

The old sayings were right — women and petty people alike are hard to manage… wait, why would he need to “manage” Qiao Qi anyway?

What connection did he and Qiao Qi even have beyond former coworkers?

None.

With that, Liang Yan snapped back to his senses and put the distance between them right back where it had been.

Sitting in the front passenger seat, Liang Xumo, who’d been watching everything happening in the back seat through the rearview mirror with perfect clarity, slowly looked away — though she found herself unable to resist letting her gaze drift back toward Qiao Qi’s face, toward her eyes, toward the mole on her neck.

“Miss Liang?” the driver suddenly spoke up.

All three people in the car startled. Liang Yan was the first to speak. “What’s wrong?”

The driver looked toward Liang Xumo, hesitating over how to phrase it.

Liang Xumo snapped back to attention. A sharp sting registered at her fingertip, and looking down, she realized she’d been so absorbed just now that she’d accidentally split one of her nails.

This would have been the perfect chance to act coy and play the victim, but she didn’t take it — instead she gently covered her right hand with her left, glanced at the driver, and said, with heavy implication: “It’s nothing. Just a bit carsick.”

Liang Yan gave an “Oh,” then asked, “How’d you suddenly get carsick? Didn’t eat? Or not feeling well?”

“No, it’s fine. Maybe I’m just tired.” Liang Xumo deliberately changed the subject, asking the driver, “We’re almost there, right?”

Not knowing what Liang Xumo was getting at, but guessing she probably didn’t want to worry Liang Yan, the driver went along with her. “Almost.”

Afraid Liang Yan might ask more questions, Liang Xumo even made an excuse to pretend to fall asleep. The moment she closed her eyes, Qiao Qi, looking at her from this angle, noticed for the first time a small mole beneath the corner of Liang Xumo’s eye.

It was actually quite noticeable, but somehow, the more noticeable it was, the easier it seemed to overlook.

Something occurred to Qiao Qi, and she gave an almost imperceptible, bitter smile.

But Liang Yan still caught it, sharp as ever. He asked her: “What’s wrong with you now?”

Qiao Qi hadn’t expected Liang Yan to catch such a subtle shift in her expression, and for a moment didn’t know how to respond.

“Hm?”

Liang Yan seemed to have grown a bit more interested in her than before.

“It’s nothing.” Qiao Qi calmly looked away.

…Speechless.

Young Master Liang didn’t bother pressing further either, simply closing his eyes, arms crossed, and dozing off.

—

By the time they reached the hospital, Maiya had just finished her routine checkup. When she was carried back to bed, her face was still pale, looking rather pitiful.

But the moment she saw them, her eyes lit up at once, and she happily scrambled out from under the covers. “Princess Seven! Prince Brother!”

Liang Yan was delighted too, striding over to scoop Maiya up into his arms. “My, you’ve gotten heavier!”

“Because Fairy Tale Brother gives me milk to drink every day,” Maiya answered crisply, her dark eyes curving into crescent moons with her smile.

She noticed the unfamiliar older sister standing behind Qiao Qi and Liang Yan and shrank her neck back a little, somewhat shy of strangers.

Noticing this, Liang Yan quickly said, “That’s my sister.”

Maiya glanced at Liang Xumo again, gave a small “Oh,” and then began reaching her arms out for Qiao Qi to hold her instead.

Liang Yan deliberately refused to hand her over. “What’s this? Don’t want me to hold you?”

That wasn’t it at all.

Maiya lowered her head and said nothing.

The shift in her before and after was too obvious, and every adult in the room picked up on it at once.

Qiao Qi figured it was probably just shyness around strangers, and told Liang Yan to stop teasing and quickly hand Maiya over to her.

But before she could even extend her arms, Liang Xumo walked over first, smiling. “Maiya, is it? Is that because you like eating malt candy?”

Because Maiya was in Liang Yan’s arms, she ended up taller than Liang Xumo.

So when Liang Xumo spoke to her, she had to tilt her head back slightly. Her eyes had a naturally gentle curve to them, and the mole beneath her eye lent her an even deeper sense of warmth and approachability.

And yet, Maiya didn’t seem particularly happy.

Qiao Qi, though puzzled, had no wish to force Maiya into anything. Somewhat embarrassed, she took Maiya from Liang Yan’s arms and said to Liang Xumo, “Sorry about that, she’s shy around new people.”

The next moment, Maiya buried herself into Qiao Qi’s arms, resting her chin on Qiao Qi’s shoulder.

Leaving Liang Xumo with nothing but a view of her back.

Even with all her composure, Liang Xumo couldn’t quite keep her expression steady for a moment. Liang Yan, though puzzled too, wasn’t about to make an issue of a small child over his sister’s sake, and so joined in with Qiao Qi. “She’s probably just not used to meeting someone new yet.”

Liang Xumo smiled and said “Mn.” Her discomfort lasted only a moment before her gentle demeanor returned.

She glanced around the room, noticing two other empty beds. “Are those two other children too?”

Qiao Qi nodded.

“Not here right now?” Liang Xumo asked.

Maiya spoke up at this point. “Gulu went for a checkup. Gulu’s dead.”

Qiao Qi froze. “What did you say?”

Gulu was four years older than Maiya, suffering from the same illness, but luckier than Maiya — a suitable surgical plan had been arranged for her a few months back.

More importantly, her family wasn’t short on money.

Wasn’t it supposed to go smoothly?

How could it suddenly—

Maiya’s voice dropped, tinged with a sob. “Gulu died. Died last night. We promised we’d watch the sunrise together.”

She couldn’t hold it in any longer, tears splattering down. Her thin arms wrapped around Qiao Qi’s neck. “Princess Seven, am I going to die too? I don’t want to die anymore.”

She rubbed her face against Qiao Qi’s chin, like a kitten trying to please its owner.

Qiao Qi panicked instantly. She handed Maiya over to Liang Yan and turned to leave the room, heading straight for Tong Shuqu’s office.

Liang Yan called out “Hey—” but couldn’t stop her in time. He wanted to follow, but with Maiya still in his arms, he found himself stuck between going and staying.

Liang Xumo reached out her arms. “Give her to me. Go — don’t let Qiao Qi be alone.”

Liang Yan agreed.

Once Liang Yan left, the room fell silent at once.

Maiya wouldn’t let Liang Xumo hold her, instead crawling obediently back under the covers by herself.

She said nothing, didn’t look up at Liang Xumo either, just kept her head down, quiet and focused, picking at her own fingernails.

Liang Xumo’s gaze settled on the top of Maiya’s head. She watched for a long while before slowly crouching down.

Looking up at Maiya from below, her voice very soft, she said, “It’s all right. Gulu will remember you.”

Maiya cautiously lifted her eyelids to glance at Liang Xumo, her voice very low. “Does everyone remember their friends?”

Liang Xumo smiled. “Of course.”

Maiya suddenly asked: “Then will you?”

“Of course I—” Liang Xumo suddenly remembered something, her expression changing at once.

Maiya blinked innocently, staring straight at Liang Xumo, and asked again: “Will you?”

It was as if Liang Xumo’s throat had been cut off; she couldn’t get a single word out.

She stared at Maiya’s dark, round eyes, the color draining from her face inch by inch.

Only when she’d gone completely pale did her lips finally, with great difficulty, tremble out: “I… will.”

But in the next moment, Maiya said: “I’ve seen you before.”

In an instant, every trace of color drained from Liang Xumo’s face.

Even the light in her eyes seemed to vanish all at once.

Her ears suddenly seemed to ring; her lips parted and closed on instinct. “What did you… say?”

Not just Liang Xumo — outside the room, Qiao Qi and Liang Yan, who had turned back after finding Tong Shuqu not in his office, froze too. Just as Qiao Qi was about to speak, Liang Yan suddenly reached out and covered her mouth with his hand.

The man’s palm was completely dry, its temperature just right; the first thing her lips registered against it was the faint scent of hand sanitizer.

Only belatedly did a flicker of surprise register — that this man’s palm could be so soft.

Qiao Qi went a little dazed, not even sparing attention for the conversation between Liang Xumo and Maiya.

Though it seemed the two of them had no intention of continuing the conversation anyway.

Because Liang Xumo flatly denied it: “That’s impossible. You must have the wrong person.”

Maiya said nothing.

Outside, the sky had darkened, a heavy layer of clouds pressing down overhead.

The air in the room seemed to have been sucked away entirely, making it hard to breathe.

Liang Xumo, breathing with difficulty, tried to stand, only to find her legs numb from crouching too long. The moment she shifted, it felt as though countless insects were crawling all over her body.

She staggered, barely catching her balance.

Outside the door, Liang Yan, whose attention had already been fixed on Liang Xumo and Maiya, saw her falter and immediately walked in.

The softness against her lips vanished at once. Qiao Qi blinked back into focus, her gaze drifting into the room.

She saw Liang Yan supporting Liang Xumo, asking something in a low voice — Qiao Qi couldn’t quite make it out. She pressed her lips together, forcing down the emotions surging restlessly in her chest, and after a few seconds finally stepped inside.

She walked up beside Liang Yan and looked at Liang Xumo. “Sis, what’s—”

“I’m not your sister!” Liang Xumo suddenly looked up, her eyes rimmed red.

Qiao Qi’s heart lurched.

The Liang Xumo before her now was drastically different from her usual self — the gentleness and warmth she normally carried had vanished entirely, replaced by something sharp and aggressive.

“You…”

Before Qiao Qi could even react, Liang Yan had already pulled Liang Xumo into his arms, half-embracing her, and said to Qiao Qi in a rush: “My sister’s not feeling well today. I’ll take her home first.”

In his haste, he didn’t even remember to say goodbye to Maiya.

Not until they’d left did Qiao Qi fully snap out of it.

At that moment, Tong Shuqu returned, having apparently crossed paths with Liang Yan and the others without exchanging greetings. He walked in and asked, puzzled: “What was that just now…?”

“Ah, yeah.” Qiao Qi answered, still somewhat dazed.

“The person Liang Yan was carrying didn’t look well — did something happen?”

If she was honest, Qiao Qi had no idea what was going on, but she could vaguely guess at some of it.

That night after the wrap party, what she’d accidentally overheard hadn’t been entirely clear, and some key details had been glossed over ambiguously by Yu Min. But thinking back on it now, the pieces were falling into place fairly quickly.

Liang Xumo… had likely gone through something terrible.

But exactly what—

Just then, Maiya spoke up: “She’s a bad woman!”

Qiao Qi startled, turning to look at Maiya, finding the child’s face full of displeasure. “What?”

“She’s a bad woman!” Maiya repeated.

Qiao Qi frowned slightly, crouched down, and looked at Maiya. “Maiya, you can’t just say things like that — it’s not polite.”

Maiya refused to meet Qiao Qi’s eyes, lowering her head to fiddle with the corner of the blanket, muttering, “She’s the one who’s not polite.”

Qiao Qi felt a flash of irritation and couldn’t help but raise her voice slightly. “Maiya!”

Maiya, unusually defiant today, actually snapped back at Qiao Qi. The moment Qiao Qi’s tone sharpened, she immediately shrank back under the covers, pulling the blanket all the way over her head.

Utterly uncooperative.

What’s gotten into everyone today.

Qiao Qi was about to pull the blanket back when Tong Shuqu stopped her. “Qiao Qi.”

Qiao Qi’s hand stilled.

Tong Shuqu: “Let it go.”

He added: “Maiya didn’t sleep well last night. Let her rest.”

Qiao Qi suddenly thought of Gulu, her hand freezing mid-air before slowly withdrawing.

She stood there for a few seconds, looking down at Maiya, before quietly turning to leave.

Passing by Gulu’s bed, Qiao Qi paused for a moment, then quickly walked on, as if nothing had happened, and left the room.

The moment she stepped out, she nearly collided with a medical staff member craning their neck around distractedly. Qiao Qi hurriedly stepped aside, and the person, snapping back to attention, apologized. “Ah, sorry, sorry about that.”

Though young, Tong Shuqu held considerable standing at the hospital, and with his handsome looks and excellent bearing, most of the medical staff recognized him on sight.

“Ah, hello, Dr. Tong.”

Tong Shuqu spoke up. “Watch where you’re walking.”

The staff member rubbed their nose, then turned to apologize to Qiao Qi again.

Qiao Qi, distracted, gave a half-hearted acknowledgment.

Tong Shuqu asked casually, “What’s so interesting down there anyway?”

The staff member said, “Oh, seems like there’s suddenly a bunch of reporters downstairs, not sure what they’re asking about.”

Qiao Qi’s expression froze. “What reporters?”

Tong Shuqu reacted immediately. “Call Liang Yan!”

Author’s Note: Something’s definitely got to happen for the reveal to finally go down. [doge]