This was the first time Qiao Qi had publicly, directly responded to the rumors about her and Liang Yan on Weibo.

She didn’t repost Liang Yan’s Weibo post, nor did she comment on or like it — instead, she posted one of her own.

The content of her post was a single screenshot.

From Baidu Baike.

Under Qiao Qi’s personal information section, four large characters read: unmarried, no children.

Beyond that, not a single unnecessary word.

The comment section collectively felt secondhand exasperation on Qiao Qi’s behalf.

[I’m speechless…]

[This is giving me nothing]

[LMAO forced Little 7 into using as few words as humanly possible]

[Little 7: What the hell do you want me to say! Open your damn eyes and read those four characters!!]

[I suddenly feel a lot more at ease, seems like neither of these two people are into wasting words hahahaha]

[Hahahaha it’s just funny — the guy: you’re unwell. The girl: get lost.]

[Hahahahahaha the paparazzi be like: this is too hard for me!]

Since there was no photo or video evidence, and both Qiao Qi and Liang Yan had responded promptly, the whole thing blew over quickly.

Still, the incident served as a reminder to Qiao Qi — going forward, she needed to not just keep working, but also properly protect Maiya.

Maiya wasn’t like other children; Qiao Qi didn’t want her bothered by irrelevant outsiders.

So she told Tong Shuqu her thoughts. Tong Shuqu, who had more or less watched Maiya grow up like half a parent by now, feigned annoyance when Qiao Qi said “sorry to trouble you.” “What’s this about?”

He teased her deliberately. “The big star’s being so polite with me now?”

Qiao Qi rubbed her forehead with a wry smile. “You know that’s not it.”

“Mn, so you should also know — even if you don’t ask, I’ll take good care of her regardless,” Tong Shuqu said.

What Tong Shuqu said was true enough, but where in this world was there so much goodwill one could simply take for granted?

Qiao Qi pressed her lips together and, after a long moment, said, “Thank you.”

“Mn,” Tong Shuqu said. “That one, I can actually accept.”

The two chatted a little longer, and just before hanging up, Qiao Qi suddenly thought of the earlier matter with Liang Xumo. She furrowed her brow, hesitating.

Tong Shuqu seemed to sense her hesitation and asked first: “Are you thinking about that thing with Liang Yan’s sister?”

Qiao Qi gave a “Mn.”

Tong Shuqu said, “I actually tried gently probing Maiya about it, but the kid’s tight-lipped, and every time I bring it up she’s clearly upset.”

“You know how it is — if she’s going to have surgery, her emotional state really needs to stay stable, so I think, for now, it’s probably best not to dig into that particular topic.”

Tong Shuqu was a professional doctor after all, and with a professional recommendation like that, Qiao Qi hardly dared not comply.

After hanging up, Qiao Qi sat on her bed, lost in thought. In her arms was a carrot-shaped plush pillow, half her own body length; nearly two meters away, one of the floor-to-ceiling windows stood open.

October now, autumn deepening, the evening breeze rising, the air carrying a chill impossible to escape.

Qiao Qi tilted her head slightly; the wind swept in unhindered, tousling her long hair without restraint. A lamp glowed on her nightstand, illuminating half her face.

Her lashes flickered lightly, faint ripples stirring in her eyes, her thoughts scattering in a thousand directions.

Next month would be Liang Yan’s birthday.

They’d agreed to meet up around then, but… how was she supposed to face him?

And Liang Xumo… what history did Liang Xumo have with Maiya that she didn’t know about?

These threads tangled together like an intricate web, silently weaving into something massive above Qiao Qi’s head.

Just thinking about it gave her a headache.

Better not to think about it at all.

As if venting some frustration, Qiao Qi squeezed the pillow a few times, then tossed it aside, threw off the covers, got up, and closed the window.

Climbing back into bed, just as she reached to turn off the lamp, her phone lit up.

Someone had sent her a friend request.

She opened it and found the profile picture and username identical to the ones “Li’ang” used.

But it wasn’t the same WeChat account.

Liang: ? Liang: What did I do again this time? Liang: I come to you with a heart full of love, and get a face full of exclamation points thrown at me, do you have any idea what that feels like?!

Qiao Qi: “…”

Oh, right. Sorry.

She seemed to have forgotten to let this particular young master out of solitary confinement.

Guiltily rubbing her nose, she considered whether to just accept this new Liang (2)’s friend request outright, or release Liang (1) from the doghouse first.

—

Two hours earlier, Liang Yan had been sprawled lazily on his living room couch at home, head resting on the armrest, his long, straight legs propped up on the other side.

The moment Father Liang walked in and saw this disgraceful sight, he immediately hurled his briefcase across the room.

Having been on the receiving end of physical punishment since childhood, Liang Yan had developed a keen instinct — he sensed the danger before the briefcase even arrived.

He nimbly leapt off the couch, smoothly dodging Father Liang’s attack.

Then, entirely unbothered, arched an eyebrow.

And even let out a long, drawn-out whistle.

Father Liang’s temples throbbed with fury.

“Look at yourself. You barely show up at home for months on end, and when you finally do, all you do is lounge around like this — might as well not come home at all!”

Unbothered, Liang Yan gave a scornful laugh, looking thoroughly game for the challenge. “Really? Then I’ll get going, shall I?”

He said this as though he actually meant to leave.

Without another word, Father Liang strode toward him.

Sensing trouble, Liang Yan immediately started shouting for his sister. Liang Xumo happened to be coming down from the second floor just then, already changed into loungewear. Hearing Liang Yan’s cry for help, she knew right away that Father Liang was home.

She hurried down the stairs and affectionately hooked her arm through Father Liang’s, blocking his path toward Liang Yan.

She said, “Dad, when did you get back? Are you hungry? What do you want for dinner tonight?”

As she spoke, she winked at Liang Yan.

Liang Yan seized the chance to slip away toward the second floor. Father Liang cursed the “little brat” furiously, and by the time Liang Yan had vanished around the upstairs corner, the door slamming shut with a bang, he shouted after him: “Are you trying to knock the house down!”

This father and son had been sparring like this for over a decade, and it had never once let up.

Liang Xumo said, helplessly, “Dad.”

Father Liang put on a show of anger. “Don’t call me that! Don’t think I don’t know you’re protecting him again!”

Liang Xumo laughed. “Come on, he’s a grown man now, are you going to keep scolding him until he’s thirty?”

“Thirty? I’ll scold him till he’s sixty! I’ll scold him with one foot already in the coffin!”

Liang Xumo guided Father Liang to sit on the couch, standing behind him to massage his shoulders and back, coaxing him gently. “Okay, okay, it’s rare for Ah Yan to come home — if there’s something to yell at him about, do it tomorrow.”

Father Liang gave a “hmph,” and let the matter drop for now. Remembering the gossip everyone at the office had been discussing that day, he asked, “What was all that messy news about, anyway?”

Liang Xumo knew about the Weibo affair too. “You mean Qiao Qi?”

“Oh, right, Qiao Qi.” Father Liang remembered now.

“I’m not entirely sure either,” Liang Xumo said, somewhat hesitant. “I think she was Ah Yan’s co-star on his last drama? She seemed to like Ah Yan quite a bit — last time at the hospital, I saw her—”

As if realizing something, Liang Xumo paused, then continued instead, “It’s nothing, though. Just coworkers, I suppose.”

Her hesitant tone suggested it was anything but “nothing.”

Father Liang gave a cold snort. “The entertainment industry — a mess of men and women all tangled together, bound to cause trouble sooner or later!”

Liang Xumo said nothing.

Father Liang asked again, “And what’s the situation with that child, then?”

“Oh, that.” Liang Xumo said with a smile. “No, it’s not Qiao Qi’s child. I’m not entirely sure of the details, but I think it’s probably an adopted child?”

“Adopted? She looks quite young — how old is she to already be adopting a child?” Father Liang asked.

Liang Xumo hesitated again before saying, “Not sure. Might have her reasons.”

“Reasons. Hmph.” Father Liang fell silent.

But his attitude was obvious enough without words.

Liang Xumo said nothing further, until Father Liang suddenly spoke up. “Xiaomo, look at you, you’re nearly thirty—”

Before he could finish, Father Liang felt Liang Xumo’s hand, still resting on his shoulder, go still.

Father Liang immediately stopped talking.

Neither of them looked at the other, and neither spoke again.

After a long while, the front door opened once more — Mother Liang was home.

Not noticing anything off about the household, Mother Liang greeted everyone and made small talk as usual upon entering. Father Liang and Liang Xumo pretended nothing had happened either, and the three of them chatted pleasantly for a good while before finally heading upstairs to their respective rooms.

The moment her bedroom door closed, every trace of the smile vanished from Liang Xumo’s face.

She walked slowly to the bed, sitting down in a daze, head lowered, long hair falling forward, her lashes lightly lowered, concealing every flicker of emotion in her eyes.

She began picking at her nails, one motion at a time, until they bled — and still she showed no reaction.

Not until a single drop of blood landed on the floor with a soft plip.

Faint as the sound was, it struck Liang Xumo’s heart like a hammer blow.

Her vision blurred, and in an instant she felt herself yanked back nearly twenty years.

Twenty years ago, she’d been not even ten years old, hadn’t yet gone to Mingtian Orphanage — hadn’t even left her own home yet.

Only, that place could hardly be called a home.

It was a single room, no living room to speak of, the kitchen and bedroom merged into one, not even an extra chair in the house — only a battered table barely fit to eat at.

A few empty liquor bottles stood on the table, and a man, dead drunk, slumped sideways on the bed.

Cai Hong didn’t dare climb onto the bed. She sat frozen in the corner where half the wall’s plaster had peeled away, watching the man on the bed — who had stripped off his faded, washed-thin T-shirt from the heat, his beer belly jutting out, mouth hanging open, snoring like thunder.

This man hadn’t been like this when he’d adopted her from the orphanage.

He’d affectionately patted her head, said he’d treat her well.

He lied!

Cai Hong stared fixedly at him.

On the television, a crime drama was playing — the good guys, trying to force a confession out of the villain, laid a towel over the villain’s face and began pouring water onto it.

Before long, the villain started thrashing.

Soon after, the villain confessed.

The good guys had achieved their goal.

Cai Hong’s gaze shifted back and forth between the television and the bed, over and over, and without meaning to she began picking at her own fingernails, the cold light of the television reflected in her eyes.

It made her look like a lifeless doll.

Until she picked her nail open, and a single drop of blood went plip — onto the floor.

The floor was concrete; it wouldn’t spread, only sink in quickly.

Leaving behind a dark brown stain.

Cai Hong stared at that bloodstain for a long time before slowly rising to her feet.

She was actually in a lot of pain down below, so much she could barely stand. But she gritted her teeth and walked, step by step, over to the sink.

In the porcelain basin sat a very old, very filthy towel.

Cai Hong stared at it in a daze, and nearly a minute later reached out and took it.

Then walked, step by step, toward the bed.

She gripped the towel tightly, water dripping the whole way there.

She murmured to herself: I’m a good person. I’m a good person. I’m a good person…

Afterward, she was taken to the police station, and then to the hospital, where she saw the adults around her looking at her with eyes full of pity and sympathy.

They were heartbroken for her.

She didn’t need to do anything. Didn’t need to say anything.

They all knew she was the good one.

The victim.

Later, they seemed to have learned everything, and hauled in many of the man’s neighbors and acquaintances to the station.

Cai Hong heard one of the police officers shout: “Indulging him! That’s exactly what turned him bad!”

Indulged.

That’s what turned him bad.

You don’t need to deliberately lead someone astray, don’t need to instill malice in them.

You only need to indulge them, satisfy everything they want, water their every desire.

And they will turn bad.

Liang Xumo pulled back out of the memory, dazed, her nails already picked raw with blood.

Yet she seemed to feel no pain at all.

She only felt curious.

Why?

Why is that?

Why hadn’t Liang Yan turned bad?

Why did he still get to live such a good life?

Why did he still have the ability to walk back into the company whenever he pleased?

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

Liang Xumo snapped back to herself with a jolt. She looked down at her own hand, and the blood on the floor, and only belatedly registered the pain.

But she couldn’t let anyone find out.

So she hurriedly wiped the floor clean with a tissue, tossed it in the trash, and answered casually, “Coming.”

“Are you already asleep?” It was Mother Liang.

“Not yet.” Once she’d cleaned up, Liang Xumo forced herself through the pain to walk to the door, opened it, and stood there smiling as though nothing were wrong. “What is it, Mom?”

“I heard from your father — he said something a bit inappropriate tonight?” Mother Liang said.

Liang Xumo smiled. “No, it’s fine. Dad’s just worried about me. I know that.”

Mother Liang sighed, and stroked Liang Xumo’s head with great sympathy. “We don’t mean to pressure you. We just hope you’ll have someone to look after you.”

“I know.” Liang Xumo lowered her eyes, her lashes casting a faint gray shadow across the fair skin beneath them.

A silent form of refusal.

Sensing this, Mother Liang sighed inwardly and said, “All right, since you know that, I won’t say more.”

“We won’t force anything on you. Do what feels right to you, and don’t push yourself just because of a few offhand words from us, okay?” Her tone was careful.

Liang Xumo smiled, giving a slightly playful pout. “I know, Mom.”

Seeing the smile on her daughter’s face, Mother Liang finally relaxed. “All right, then, get some rest — you’ve had a tiring day too. I’ll go see what that little brat is up to.”

Liang Xumo nodded in agreement.

While Mother Liang had been knocking, Liang Yan had just come out of the shower, his hair still unblown, a towel tossed casually over his head. “Who is it?”

“Your mother.”

Liang Yan sauntered over lazily to open the door, and sure enough found only Mother Liang standing there. He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, a faint, indeterminate smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What’s up? Did the old man send you up here to yell at me?”

Utterly incorrigible.

Mother Liang raised a hand and swatted him.

Liang Yan didn’t even dodge, his peach-blossom eyes curving into a smile.

As she swatted him, a few drops of water fell from her hand; she pushed him back toward his room with distaste. “Get in there and dry your hair already, don’t go acting reckless just because you’re young.”

“You sound exactly like my sister,” Liang Yan said, turning to walk back into his room, wiping at his hair with the towel as he went.

Mother Liang found the hair dryer and pressed her son down onto the couch, drying his hair just as she had when he was a child.

She sighed. “Why does it always feel like you haven’t grown up at all?”

Liang Yan thought about it. “Probably because I’m not married.”

Mother Liang laughed. “So when does our little young master plan to bring home a daughter-in-law for me, then?”

Liang Yan thought about it again, then reached up to stop Mother Liang from drying his hair, and said with an unusually earnest expression: “Do you really want a daughter-in-law?”

Startled, Mother Liang set the hair dryer aside, her expression turning serious and focused. She sat down beside the couch. “What do you mean by that? You’re seeing someone?”

Liang Yan rubbed his nose, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “I… guess?”

Mother Liang smacked him on the head. “What do you mean, ‘guess’? Either you are or you aren’t!”

Liang Yan made an “mm” sound. “I probably am, then.”

Mother Liang lit up with delight. “Where’s she from? What does she do? What does she look like? Do you have a photo? Let me see, how old is she? Oh, and don’t you go picking up some habit from those entertainment industry types dating people with huge age gaps — an age gap just means a gap in life experience, makes things difficult down the road.”

Mother Liang said a whole mouthful, asked a whole mouthful, and got not a single answer back from her son.

Impatient, she pressed him. “Well? Say something!”

“Say what?”

“How old is she this year, where’s she from, where does she work, what does she do?”

“…” Liang Yan strained for a long moment and finally squeezed out three words. “I don’t know.”

Mother Liang thought she’d misheard. “What?”

Liang Yan coughed awkwardly. “How about… I ask her for you?”

“You ask! Go on, ask right now!”

To prove this person really existed, Liang Yan opened WeChat right in front of Mother Liang, found the pinned contact, and began earnestly typing out questions.

Liang: How old are you again, exactly? Liang: Oh, and where do you work? Liang: What do you do? Liang: Just asking out of curiosity, no worries if you’d rather not say.

He was about to keep going when Mother Liang suddenly reached over and touched her son’s arm. Liang Yan, deep in concentration, didn’t even lift his head. “What? You’re the one who’s curious, wait till I’m done asking.”

Mother Liang said, flatly, “Never mind asking.”

Liang Yan glanced up, puzzled. “Huh? Why not?”

Mother Liang asked, seriously: “Is she really your girlfriend? Don’t lie to me — don’t think just because you’re grown now I won’t smack you!”

“She really is! Why would I lie about this?” Liang Yan said. “We’ve known each other a while now, over two years, it’s real, why would I make this up?”

“Besides, with a face like mine, why would I need to lie to some girl?”

Mother Liang nodded. “Then tell me — why did she block you?”

“?”

Liang Yan blinked in confusion, looked down, and only then realized that he’d been typing away so intently he hadn’t actually checked the screen at all.

Now, looking properly, every single message he’d sent had a bright red exclamation mark standing in front of it.

Liang Yan: “…”

Mother Liang gave her son a teasing look. “Hm?”

With an entirely composed expression, Liang Yan turned off his phone screen. “She’s just being moody with me.”

“Young. Age.”

“Immature.”

Mother Liang gave an “Oh.” “Why, though?”

Liang Yan: “…”

How would I know?!

If I knew, would I still be stuck in the doghouse?!

Author’s Note: Let’s say a chapter’s around two thousand words. This is the combined double update. …886.