It was nearly the end of the workday; employees at the company were gradually clocking out one by one.

The atmosphere was harmonious throughout.

The secretary, as usual, carried a cup of warm milk and pushed open the director’s office door. The moment the gap opened, sounds slipped out eagerly through the crack.

— “Let’s give one final round of applause for Qiao Qi and Liang Yan!”

— “Thank you to the cast of Misty Pavilion for coming out today to support our charity event.”

— “Let’s also congratulate Misty Pavilion on its outstanding ratings!”

The secretary paused.

Was the director… watching Young Master Liang’s show?

Made sense — the director had always doted on her little brother, Young Master Liang.

Even on business trips, no matter how busy she was, she’d always make time to swing by his favorite shops and pick up clothes and shoes for him.

Everyone said the siblings had a wonderful relationship — born into a wealthy family, yet completely free of the scheming and rivalry so common in such households.

It seemed like each valued the other more than themselves.

It was rare for the director to slack off at work; the secretary hesitated over whether to approach. But remembering the chairman’s instructions to deliver warm milk to the director every day before the end of the workday, she pushed the door open and walked in anyway.

The office floor was laid with high-end custom carpeting; even in heels, footsteps only made a muffled, heavy sound.

Not sharp at all.

Nor was it enough to pull the director’s attention away from her phone.

Liang Xumo stared blankly at the comments scrolling across her phone screen. She hadn’t really intended to watch Liang Yan’s broadcast — she’d simply come across it while scrolling through her social feed and clicked into a livestream link someone had shared.

The livestream had laid bare, openly and unashamedly, every gesture and behavior of Liang Yan’s — his gaze constantly tracking Qiao Qi’s movements, his various excuses to draw closer to her.

These details felt like thorns pricking into Liang Xumo’s eyes; her vision gradually blurred, replaced instead by a series of images — a desolate courtyard under a setting sun. She saw two little girls; the older one crouched quietly in a corner, tearing at withered leaves along the wall, one by one.

The leaves looked like the decaying vitality of late autumn turning to early winter, taking on a grayish-brown hue.

The younger one sat quietly too, chin propped on her small hand, head tilted, watching the older girl. After a long while, she finally said, “Do you like rainbow candy? I know where to find some.”

Hearing this, the older girl’s hands stilled. She stared at the shredded leaves beneath her fingers, as though seeing her own broken future reflected in them.

Suddenly, she stepped back.

The movement was too abrupt, and she landed hard on the ground.

The younger girl, startled, hurried over to help her up.

The older girl, looking up, caught sight of a red mole on the younger girl’s neck. Just then, the setting sun poured down in full force, bathing the little girl’s face in red light, making the mole on her neck look like blood.

The older girl stared at the younger one for a long time before finally, as if steeling her resolve, reaching out and taking her hand.

She was still young, not yet skilled at lying, so the smile that curved her lips looked stiff and unnatural.

“Sure. Can you bring me some tomorrow? Tomorrow’s my birthday.”

The younger girl was even younger, unable to tell anything was wrong with her older sister — she only knew her sister wanted something, and she liked her sister very much, so she wanted to get it for her.

So she chirped brightly, “Okay!”

Afterward, she was no longer a withered, broken leaf.

She became someone with a harmonious family life.

Her family loved her deeply.

She loved her family deeply, too.

But.

All of it had been stolen.

Stolen…

Stolen belongings could be returned. But how do you return a stolen life?

Unless the person it was stolen from never “reports it.”

“Clink—”

The milk cup landed on the desk with a crisp sound.

“Director, your milk—”

Liang Xumo seemed to be suddenly yanked back to attention; she jerked her head up, and the hand holding her phone trembled along with the motion. The movement was so abrupt that the phone smacked directly into the milk cup.

The secretary, caught off guard, didn’t manage to stop it in time, and the milk cup tipped over onto the desk.

White liquid pooled and spread across the carpet.

Staining the previously pristine gray carpet with a startling mark.

The secretary and Liang Xumo stared at each other in shock. The secretary was first to react, stepping back hurriedly, bowing in apology, “S-sorry, Director, did I— did I startle you?”

She cautiously looked up.

Only then did she notice how alarmingly pale Liang Xumo’s face had gone, and her guilt deepened.

She’d worked under Liang Xumo for nearly two years now; Liang Xumo was normally exceedingly warm and approachable, showing none of the airs one might expect from someone in her position.

Occasionally she’d even give the staff small gifts or snacks, and on nights when they had to work overtime, she’d order them late-night meals or coffee.

Everyone at the company adored this director, and worked willingly, wholeheartedly, on her behalf.

The secretary genuinely liked Liang Xumo too; seeing her looking unwell now, her first thought was that something must be physically wrong.

After all, Director Liang had once pushed through a meeting despite running a high fever.

“D-director, are you okay…” The secretary hurried forward to help support her.

But Liang Xumo resisted fiercely.

She abruptly raised a hand, batting away the secretary’s outstretched hand, and stepped back — her heel accidentally caught in the office chair’s caster wheel.

Almost instantly, she lost her balance and began falling backward —

“Director!” The secretary was nearly scared to death.

Liang Xumo seemed to suddenly snap awake; she let out a startled cry and instinctively reached for the secretary’s hand.

But the two hands missed each other in mid-air, and Liang Xumo landed, unsurprisingly, back down onto the chair.

She hadn’t hit the floor.

The secretary breathed a huge sigh of relief, clutching her chest in delayed fright, “Director, you really scared me half to…”

Before she could finish, she saw Liang Xumo’s face twist in pain.

The secretary’s gaze dropped, and she saw Liang Xumo’s calf twisted at an unnaturally strange angle, caught in the chair’s caster wheel.

“Ah!” The secretary sucked in a sharp breath, raising her voice, “Someone, quick, help!!”

—

By the time the ambulance arrived, Liang Xumo’s ankle had swollen so badly that even her heels couldn’t fit over it; her face was ghostly pale with pain, yet she still insisted on giving the secretary various instructions.

The secretary, heartbroken, gripped Liang Xumo’s hand, “Stop giving instructions, I know what to do, let Xiaona handle it, I’ll go with you—”

Liang Xumo cut her off, frowning, her tone stern. “How could I let her go? You go — this can’t be handled carelessly. If something goes wrong, will you cover the loss?”

The secretary said, “But we also can’t let you go to the hospital alone!”

Liang Xumo waved a hand, lowering her eyes, her lashes veiling some kind of turmoil.

She said, “I’ll call Liang Yan. He’s in Shanghai.”

—

Backstage, the dressing room was in complete chaos. In a corner no one was paying attention to, tension crackled in the air.

Qiao Qi stared unblinkingly at Liang Yan’s eyes, his face, every shift of expression on it.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Her heart pounded, heavy and slow, as though time itself had suddenly slowed by dozens of times.

And because of this, every emotion felt magnified beyond measure.

Qiao Qi felt every wave of tension surging through her body, and the faint stirrings creeping out from some hidden corner within her.

These emotions traveled from the tip of her heart up to her throat, tangling around the base of her tongue, making it hard for her to speak smoothly.

“I guessed.” The man tried to brush past the question with just those three words.

Impossible.

Qiao Qi seemed to steady herself in an instant; her gaze didn’t waver, her tone remained calm, “Guessed how?”

Only then did others notice something was going on over here.

Everyone turned their heads one after another to look, dying of curiosity — yet whenever Liang Yan glanced their way, they’d all casually turn their heads back as if nothing were happening.

Then quietly strained their ears to listen.

Liang Yan pulled his gaze back, meeting Qiao Qi’s eyes once more.

Qiao Qi was usually so easygoing, appearing indifferent to everything.

So Liang Yan had rarely seen her look this intensely commanding.

It left a deep impression.

Unforgettable.

It also stirred something strange, quietly, in his chest.

Should he tell her?

Liang Yan hesitated a little.

Things had suddenly spiraled beyond his control — though, to be fair, this sense of losing control hadn’t really stopped since the moment he’d learned 7 was Qiao Qi — but he didn’t want to admit it in such a muddled way.

Because he wasn’t sure.

Not sure what feelings Qiao Qi held for Li’ang, and not sure what feelings Qiao Qi held for Liang Yan.

After a moment of internal struggle, the scale in his heart finally tipped to the other side.

The next second, Liang Yan’s lips curved into his usual careless smile. Since Qiao Qi wouldn’t take the milk tea, he simply set it down on the table beside her without further concern.

“We’ve met before on set—”

Before he could finish, his phone rang.

Liang Yan cut off his own already flimsy explanation, secretly relieved. As he searched for his phone, he told Qiao Qi, “Sorry, let me take this.”

Qiao Qi watched his easy, unbothered demeanor, her brow furrowing deeper without her realizing it.

Even though the excuse made sense, Qiao Qi inexplicably felt Liang Yan wasn’t being entirely honest.

She really wanted to keep pressing, trying to crack through Liang Yan’s effortless composure, but unfortunately, the call had come at the worst possible time.

She didn’t want to look away, so she was the first to notice Liang Yan’s expression change the moment he answered.

“Hospital? Why are you at the hospital?”

“Got it, I’m on my way.”

The call ended, and Liang Yan turned to leave immediately — then, halfway, turned back and grabbed Qiao Qi’s slender, pale wrist.

“Come with me.”

“?” Being pulled along by him, Qiao Qi blinked, not quite catching up, “Why?”

Liang Yan explained as he walked, his tone matter-of-fact.

“I’ve been drinking. You’re driving.”

Oh, right.

The host had had them try a plum wine earlier, and Liang Yan had tasted it.

But…

Qiao Qi said, “Isn’t your assistant right there?”

“Personal matter.” Liang Yan bundled Qiao Qi into the driver’s seat, then walked around the car and got into the passenger seat, leaning forward first to fasten her seatbelt, lightly patting her head, “Head to City Hospital.”

Then he sat back and buckled his own seatbelt.

Qiao Qi felt strangely thrown off by this gesture — she couldn’t tell if it was affectionate or simply habitual — she said “Oh,” her ears quietly flushing red.

Her heart, which had only just calmed down, began racing rapidly all over again.

Only after pressing the gas did she belatedly wonder: hm? Why am I even listening to him?

—

Before getting out of the car, Liang Yan called Liang Xumo, only to hear her ringtone go off right by his ear.

Liang Yan turned, puzzled, and saw the ambulance doors open, with doctors helping Liang Xumo down from inside.

Liang Yan didn’t even hang up the call, gripping his phone as he strode over, taking the doctor’s place, “Sis, what happened?”

Liang Xumo was surprised he’d arrived so quickly, “How did you get here so fast?”

“I happened to be nearby,” Liang Yan said, glancing at Liang Xumo’s badly swollen foot, “What happened to your foot?”

Liang Xumo gave a wry smile, “Twisted it by accident.”

Liang Yan tucked his phone into his pocket and bent down to scoop Liang Xumo up, carrying her toward the hospital entrance.

He was always like this — this way with their mother at home, this way with Liang Xumo outside as well.

The familiar intimacy of family needed no explanation.

But Liang Xumo, in fact, wasn’t entirely comfortable with this kind of boundary-crossing affection; she knew what she’d been through, so she’d severed herself off from all closeness with the opposite sex.

Stiffness crept up her spine, inch by inch; she resisted, yet didn’t dare resist outright.

Who could possibly resist their own family, after all?

Presumably all close siblings were like this.

But Liang Xumo still couldn’t bear the physical discomfort, and spoke up: “No need, I can still walk—”

Before she could finish, she looked up and suddenly caught sight of Qiao Qi getting out of the car.

She froze, “Qiao Qi?”

Qiao Qi had also immediately noticed the injury on Liang Xumo’s foot.

Liang Xumo was likely not in great health to begin with, and constantly busy — at an age when she should be dating, she instead spent her days and nights battling it out in the business world.

Though she didn’t look the part of a formidable businesswoman, she carried a formidable businesswoman’s workload.

This kind of lifestyle kept her from gaining much weight at all.

So when her ankle swelled up, the contrast against her slender, pale ankle made it look especially alarming.

Qiao Qi asked, equally concerned, “This looks… pretty serious.”

“Ah.” Liang Xumo hadn’t expected Liang Yan to bring Qiao Qi along too; she paused for a few seconds before saying, “Yes, it’s a bit serious.”

Liang Yan carried Liang Xumo inside, turning to tell Qiao Qi, “Could you help find a doctor?”

Qiao Qi said “Okay” and hurried into the hospital.

This was the same hospital where Maiya was staying; she was familiar enough with it and quickly located the right department with Liang Xumo.

Liang Xumo’s foot injury was indeed fairly serious, requiring hospitalization.

Hearing the word “hospitalization,” Liang Yan’s brow furrowed deeply.

Qiao Qi, noticing his expression, glanced at him, then turned to look at Liang Xumo, who sat waiting for the doctor to examine her foot.

These two siblings really did seem close, sometimes.

Liang Yan treated her well, and she treated Liang Yan well in turn.

That was probably what family meant.

Qiao Qi’s lashes lowered; in the all-white hospital room, her face looked pale under the fluorescent light, the shadows beneath her eyes casting a visible weariness.

As Liang Yan pulled his gaze away from Liang Xumo’s face, it passed over Qiao Qi’s, and seeing her dim expression, a spark of tenderness suddenly flared up in his chest.

The spark grew steadily hotter, warming his whole heart.

Overwhelmed by emotion, Liang Yan couldn’t help reaching out and hooking his finger around Qiao Qi’s.

Qiao Qi startled, caught off guard, looking down to see Liang Yan’s slender fingers hooked around her pinky, a numb warmth immediately climbing up her spine.

She froze completely on the spot.

Dazed, she looked up at Liang Yan.

Liang Yan thoroughly enjoyed her pure, unguarded expression; feeling mischievous, he deliberately said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow at her.

Qiao Qi: “?”

Liang Yan, unable to hold back a laugh, curved his lips, shifted his weight onto his left foot, and leaned toward Qiao Qi without a word.

Pretending to whisper something to her, he let his breath brush against her ear.

“Let’s step outside.”

Qiao Qi snapped back to reality, nearly clapping her hands over her ears and stepping back.

Her eyes seemed to mist over with a faint pink haze; when she blinked, ripples stirred at the bottom of her gaze.

Circle after circle, like the unmistakable stirrings of a young girl’s heart she couldn’t quite hide.

Whatever teasing remark Liang Yan had originally planned died in his throat.

Just then, the doctor said they needed to set Liang Xumo’s bone. Liang Xumo had never liked others seeing her look vulnerable, and Liang Yan knew this, so he casually hooked Qiao Qi’s finger again.

He’d originally been the peacock showing off his feathers, trying to charm someone else — only to end up completely disarmed by a single glance from the other party instead.

His heart went soft right along with it.

And yet, the other party showed no intention of flirting back.

Sigh.

Pathetic.

Liang Yan turned first, “Let’s step outside.”

Qiao Qi went, “Hm?” “Aren’t you…”

“My sister doesn’t like it.” Liang Yan said, pulling open the door and walking out.

Only then did Qiao Qi follow him out.

The two of them stood outside the room; with their polished looks and striking features, they drew quite a few glances from passersby.

But perhaps because there weren’t many young people around, no one recognized who they were.

Liang Yan stretched his long legs out, sitting on a nearby bench, looking up at Qiao Qi, who stood somewhat stiffly and awkwardly nearby. He couldn’t help teasing, lips curving, “Playing door guardian?”

Qiao Qi ignored him.

Having passed that earlier delicate moment, she didn’t feel like pressing him further about how exactly he’d guessed, or why he kept touching her like that.

If he acted all innocent and turned it around on her, it would only make her look like she had ulterior motives.

“I remember Maiya’s here too, right?” Liang Yan asked.

Qiao Qi nodded.

“Should we go visit her later?” Liang Yan said, standing up. “Actually, why don’t we go now — bring her over, maybe my sister could also—”

Before he finished, Liang Yan suddenly remembered the unpleasant incident from before.

He paused, cutting himself off.

This was awkward not just for Liang Yan, but for Qiao Qi too. Only she didn’t know the reason behind it, and worried that if she brought it up, he might think she knew the reason but just hadn’t told him — so she explained instead, “I never got a reason out of her, she doesn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to push.”

Liang Yan gave a noncommittal “Oh.”

But Qiao Qi was, in fact, quite curious about the matter, so she asked, “Maybe… you could find time to ask her…”

The rest went unsaid, but understood.

Liang Yan smiled bitterly, “My sister’s situation might not be any better than Maiya’s.”

Qiao Qi paused.

Even now, she still didn’t fully understand Liang Xumo’s situation.

But — could it really be worse than Maiya’s?

It didn’t seem like it, on the surface.

“I’ll tell you when there’s a chance,” Liang Yan said.

Qiao Qi didn’t ask him why he wanted to tell her.

Nor did she ask when that “chance” might be.

—

Once Liang Xumo had been settled into her hospital room, Liang Yan sat by the bed and asked, “So what exactly happened? How did you twist it that badly?”

Qiao Qi had, of course, gone to check on Maiya since she was at the hospital anyway.

With Qiao Qi no longer nearby, Liang Xumo, remembering the comments she’d seen during the livestream, along with Liang Yan’s behavior throughout the broadcast, distractedly tugged at her lips and said, “My heel got caught in the office chair’s caster wheel.”

Liang Yan had never expected such a mundane cause; Liang Xumo’s ankle really had been twisted quite severely.

He frowned, complaining, “You’re a grown woman, can’t you be more careful?”

“I know, nag.” Liang Xumo said, then, seemingly casually, asked, “Why did you come with Qiao Qi? Doesn’t she have work to do?”

“I’d been drinking, couldn’t drive.” Liang Yan said.

“Still, you shouldn’t have troubled her over that,” Liang Xumo said, sounding genuinely concerned for Qiao Qi’s sake, “Don’t you have an assistant? You shouldn’t keep bothering her like this — she’s a single woman, after all, and with how much buzz you two are getting right now, what if it causes her some kind of trouble?”

“She’s not exactly single, though,” Liang Yan muttered under his breath.

Liang Xumo didn’t quite catch that, but her own words reminded her of something else, and she asked Liang Yan, “By the way, how are things going with your girlfriend? I watched the livestream just now — you and Qiao Qi’s shippers seem to be quite a lot, huh.”

“What, is the company planning to push you two in that direction?” Liang Xumo asked.

“No.” Liang Yan said.

Given his current standing in the entertainment industry, the company wouldn’t dare meddle in his affairs without permission.

Liang Xumo said “Oh,” then glanced up and happened to catch sight of a figure by the door.

— It was Qiao Qi.

Liang Xumo, without missing a beat, lowered her eyes, pretending she’d seen nothing, and continued chatting with Liang Yan.

“It’s good that there’s nothing going on. After all, you do have a girlfriend — if you’re going to genuinely ship a real-life couple online, you should be considerate of the other person’s feelings too.”

“By the way, have you two met in person yet?” Liang Xumo suddenly asked.

Liang Yan answered honestly, “Not yet.”

“Still haven’t met?” Liang Xumo teased deliberately. “Aren’t you being a little slow about this?”

Liang Yan said nothing.

Liang Xumo glanced at the doorway again, saw the figure was still there, and continued, “What, don’t you like her anymore?”

“I do!” Liang Yan quickly denied.

“Then what’s your relationship with Qiao Qi right now?” Liang Xumo asked.

Liang Yan’s thoughts drifted for a moment; he said nothing.

Liang Xumo hadn’t expected Liang Yan to hesitate. Thinking of Qiao Qi standing right there at the door, and of Qiao Qi’s identity, she unconsciously gripped the blanket tighter.

After a moment, she smiled and asked, as though making idle conversation, “What’s wrong? Are you hesitating over something?”

Liang Xumo feigned annoyance, “That’s not good, you know. It’s not fair to either of these two girls.”

Several seconds passed before Liang Yan finally said, with a flat tone, “I know. Qiao Qi and I…”

He paused, and instead of telling Liang Xumo the truth, deflected, “We’re just former coworkers. What else could we be?”

“Then hurry up and meet your girlfriend in person. If you really think she’s the one, bring her home soon to meet Mom and Dad, understand?” Liang Xumo said.

Liang Yan again said nothing.

Liang Yan was always so noncommittal like this; Liang Xumo grew a little anxious, not realizing her own questioning had grown a bit too insistent.

“What now?”

Liang Yan hesitated. He honestly wasn’t sure how to read Qiao Qi’s attitude toward him, or her feelings about this whole “online relationship” situation.

Liang Xumo was a woman, after all — surely women understood how other women thought?

So after mulling it over, Liang Yan decided to ask Liang Xumo directly.

He pulled a chair over and sat by the bed, elbow resting on the nightstand, one hand propping up his elegantly made-up face.

The setting sun poured red light through the window, striking his face directly, making his already striking, eye-catching features even more arresting.

Watching him, whatever hesitation had remained in Liang Xumo’s heart vanished instantly.

She didn’t want Qiao Qi and Liang Yan to be together, regardless of the reason.

She knew she shouldn’t feel this way, but she couldn’t help it.

She couldn’t control it.

So she smiled at Liang Yan, “What do you want to ask? You look so conflicted — is it about your girlfriend?”

I… guess so?

Liang Yan lowered the hand propping up his face, unconsciously twisting the corner of the blanket on the bed with his fingers.

His inner conflict laid completely bare.

Liang Xumo sharply noticed this detail; her heart seemed to twist along with that small corner of blanket in Liang Yan’s fingers. She asked again, “What’s really going on? Just tell me?”

Liang Yan looked up and asked, “Would you fall for someone you’d only ever chatted with, but never actually met?”

Liang Xumo froze for a moment, then remembered Liang Yan and his girlfriend had never met in person; she said, somewhat exasperated, “What’s gotten into you?”

Liang Yan wasn’t embarrassed to ask again, “Would you, though?”

Liang Xumo reached out and patted Liang Yan’s head, “Of course I would. Feelings aren’t built on meeting in person — they’re built on the care and effort put in day after day. Even without meeting, that time and effort you’ve invested is real.”

“What’s this about? Our little Young Master Liang, lacking confidence for once?” Liang Xumo said with a laugh. “Aren’t you supposed to be a top idol with over a hundred million fans?”

Liang Yan, uncharacteristically bashful, pushed Liang Xumo’s hand away and pressed his lips together, saying nothing.

Liang Xumo, having momentarily forgotten Qiao Qi’s presence, found Liang Yan’s innocent reaction even more amusing and endearing.

She laughed to herself for a good while, laughing until Liang Yan’s ears turned a faint, embarrassed shade of red. Seeing this only made Liang Xumo laugh harder; Liang Yan, flustered and annoyed, stood up to leave.

Liang Xumo called after him, “Liang Yan, whether it’s an online relationship or a real-life one, once you’ve committed to it, once you’ve taken on the role of boyfriend, you need to fulfill that responsibility — you can’t waver back and forth, understand?”

Only then did Liang Yan realize Liang Xumo might have misunderstood something, but explaining would be too much trouble, so he didn’t bother — he simply smiled and said, “Got it.”

Liang Xumo glanced toward the doorway again, catching sight of Qiao Qi’s figure, and couldn’t resist probing once more, “Even if you genuinely have other feelings developing, you need to end things properly with your current relationship first, understand?”

Liang Yan, exasperated, only said, “Understood. It’s not ending.”

There was only one girlfriend. Ending things with whom, exactly?

His phone?

Or that unlucky group of fans still whipping his corpse on Weibo?

Liang Xumo, having gotten the answer she wanted, quietly let out a breath of relief, a smile slowly spreading across her lips.

No matter what.

As long as it wasn’t Qiao Qi, it was fine.

Any other girl, marrying into the Liang family, she’d treat just as warmly as she treated Liang Yan.

Because they were family.

—

Outside the hospital room door, Qiao Qi hadn’t said a word the whole time; she knew this wasn’t exactly the right thing to do — whether or not it had started intentionally, she had, in fact, been eavesdropping on this sibling conversation.

Maiya stood beside her too, head lowered the entire time; Qiao Qi glanced over and could easily see her pouting so hard her lip looked like it could hang a kettle.

She could tell Maiya didn’t want to come visit Liang Xumo, but when Qiao Qi had suggested it, Maiya had nodded in agreement anyway.

Reluctantly.

Probably out of consideration for Liang Yan.

Having just committed the act of eavesdropping with a child in tow, Qiao Qi suddenly felt a little embarrassed; she rubbed her nose and, guiltily, lowered her voice to call out, “Maiya.”

Maiya looked up, looking utterly innocent, “I won’t say anything. I didn’t hear anything, and I didn’t understand it anyway.”

Seeing the child being so thoughtful and considerate on her behalf, Qiao Qi’s heart softened; she crouched down to be at eye level with Maiya.

She asked, quite seriously, “Maiya, do you not like Sister Liang?”

Maiya nodded firmly.

Though she’d never explained why, she’d never bothered hiding her dislike of Liang Xumo either.

After all, she was just a child.

Even if she tried to hide it, her emotions would inevitably show through.

Qiao Qi was genuinely puzzled — as far as she remembered, Maiya and Liang Xumo had no connection whatsoever. How could a child inexplicably dislike such a gentle, warm older sister figure?

She’d meant to take this opportunity to properly ask, but realizing she herself was currently a party to eavesdropping, she said, a little awkwardly, “Alright, then.”

“Let me ask you one more time — do you want to go in and see Sister Liang, or go back to your own room?”

Maiya’s little face was written all over with distress.

Qiao Qi couldn’t bear to make her struggle like this either, and sighed first, “Alright then, let’s head back for now. We can come see her again some other time.”

Maiya immediately reached out her thin little arms and wrapped them around Qiao Qi, burying her face in Qiao Qi’s neck, murmuring a soft “okay.”

Qiao Qi’s heart ached with tenderness; she scooped Maiya up and turned to leave.

But she hadn’t gone more than a few steps when she heard Liang Yan’s voice behind her. Qiao Qi stopped and turned around.

Liang Yan had already caught up, striding over on his long legs.

A few passersby recognized Liang Yan and Qiao Qi at this point, and some even pulled out their phones to take pictures; Liang Yan politely stopped them.

Fortunately, they were all reasonably sensible passersby and fans, and after Liang Yan’s polite request, they stopped taking photos.

Besides, this was a hospital — everyone around was either a patient or a patient’s family member, hardly the type to have spare attention for celebrities.

Seeing this, Qiao Qi and Liang Yan both relaxed considerably. Liang Yan greeted Maiya first, then turned to ask Qiao Qi, “Why aren’t you going in?”

Hearing this, Maiya stopped paying Liang Yan any attention, instead hugging Qiao Qi’s neck even tighter.

Qiao Qi noticed and patted Maiya’s back soothingly, saying, “Maiya’s not feeling great, so we won’t bother her — we’ll come back another time.”

Liang Yan reached out and ruffled Maiya’s hair, “I’ll walk you over.”

Qiao Qi, thinking back on his conversation with Liang Xumo, felt a complicated tangle of emotions.

Those words — she’d heard them, and couldn’t quite say whether they made her happy or unhappy.

And, she was starting to feel guilty too.

Truthfully, she always felt like Liang Yan was deceiving her.

But hadn’t she also failed to tell him the truth?

This feeling left her momentarily unsure how to face Liang Yan; it felt like even one glance from him made her feel guilty.

So she gently sidestepped his gaze, “No need, I can go up myself, you stay here and keep—”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Liang Yan reached out and forcibly took Maiya from her arms, not caring whether Maiya wanted this or not, and strode off toward the stairwell.

Qiao Qi: “…”

Fine.

Even though she hadn’t been honest with him, at least she wasn’t as overbearing as he was.

Hmph.

Still annoying, though.

Qiao Qi hurried to catch up, trying to snatch Maiya back from his arms, “Give her here!”

Liang Yan gave her an unbothered glance, easily sidestepping her attempt, then let a faint, barely-there smile touch his lips.

Qiao Qi glared, “You!”

Liang Yan arched an eyebrow, “What? Whose fault is it your arms aren’t long enough?”

…?

Qiao Qi switched targets, turning to Maiya, “You tell him — who do you want carrying you?”

Maiya, ever the shrewdest of children, bit her finger, glanced at Qiao Qi, then at Liang Yan, and finally said weakly, “I can walk down by myself.”

Qiao Qi: “…”

Liang Yan couldn’t help himself, but before he could laugh out loud, laughter had already sounded from behind them.

Qiao Qi and Liang Yan both turned to look, finding an elderly man in hospital pajamas, apparently out for an after-meal stroll, who had accidentally overheard their exchange.

The old man laughed and said, “Look how you’ve scared the poor child. Isn’t this basically the same as asking a kid whether they like their dad or their mom better?”

Qiao Qi said, “It’s not like that—”

Before she could finish, the elevator doors opened with a chime, the crowd dispersed, and the old man had vanished somewhere in the process.

Liang Yan stepped into the elevator first, then, holding Maiya’s hand, said with an air of complete naturalness:

“Maiya, tell Mommy to hurry up and get in.”

Qiao Qi: “…”

Maiya played along enthusiastically, “Mommy! Hurry up and come in!”

Given how strikingly good-looking this “father-daughter” pair was, and given that neither of them seemed particularly interested in keeping a low profile, they quickly drew quite a few curious glances.

Being called “Mommy” by Maiya sent a thin sheen of cold sweat across Qiao Qi’s back, her heart involuntarily racing.

And yet Liang Yan chose that exact moment to deliberately say to Maiya, “Hug Daddy’s neck tight.”

The words were meant for Maiya, but his eyes were fixed on Qiao Qi.

The man’s flirtatious eyes deliberately held back a smile, his lashes fluttering lightly, like an early spring breeze sweeping unexpectedly across the surface of Qiao Qi’s heart.

The once-calm surface, already unsettled, rippled outward, deeper waves beginning to surface beneath.

Qiao Qi suppressed the turmoil rising within her, a faint pink flush unconsciously creeping up her ears.

She pretended to glare angrily at Liang Yan, looking for all the world like an indignant little rabbit baring its front teeth.

Fierce-looking, in theory.

Utterly lacking in any actual intimidation.

If anything, it only made his heart itch with fondness.

Liang Yan’s lips curved upward, staring straight at Qiao Qi, “Not getting in?”

He added, deliberately, to Maiya, “Look, Mommy’s throwing a tantrum at me again.”

Qiao Qi: “…”

Before anyone else could throw them any more curious glances, Qiao Qi lowered her head and strode into the elevator on her long legs, deliberately stepping on Liang Yan’s foot on the way in.

Caught off guard, Liang Yan sucked in a sharp breath, then turned to tell Maiya, “This is called domestic abuse.”

“…” Qiao Qi silently turned, giving Liang Yan a flat, expressionless look, gritting out through her teeth, “Shut up.”

Liang Yan, grinning, went right on educating Maiya, “This is called flirting through bickering.”

Qiao Qi: “…”

Fine.

She’d shut up.

Author’s Note: Thanks to manfeishi for the lurking bomb, ahhhhh Xuan17 mines, Xiaoyang and Shashaha10 mines, one apple and one sneaky fox 5 mines, Gloria 2 mines, Curly-bang shaocha, Daxia, Fanxi’s big cat, Karener, Qishu 1 mine each!

Thanks to all the above sponsors!

Touched — I’m so unworthy, and yet I still have sponsors.

As for the sister — I know what everyone’s thinking, but some things… still need to be written.

Besides, isn’t she basically playing wingman really well?[doge]