While waiting for the coordination of surveillance footage by the Daqu County Criminal Investigation Team, Guan Xia didn’t idle around. She went with Pang Le to visit the orphanage.
Since plans often change unexpectedly, Guan Xia didn’t have time to prepare much. She hastily bought some children’s books and toys. When Pang Le drove the rented car into the orphanage’s parking lot, they unexpectedly ran into a few members of the Second Division.
Xu Nian and the others were unloading items from the trunk. Wang Yu took a moment to greet Guan Xia, “Good afternoon, Guan Xia! Surprised to see us?”
Guan Xia was indeed surprised. She glanced at Wang Yu, then at Xu Nian, and asked, “What are you all doing here?”
She had always disliked troubling others, so she had kept this visit quiet. She had left early in the morning, precisely to avoid Xu Nian and the others feeling obliged to join her out of courtesy. If not for Pang Le’s prior mention—and the fact that they shared a room—she wouldn’t have even told Pang Le.
Yet, despite her secrecy, Xu Nian and the others had still come.
After setting down a visibly heavy cardboard box, Xu Nian finally spoke, “Actually, we’d discussed coming here before we even arrived in Quming City.”
“After all, this is the place that raised you,” Wang Yu added with a smile. “We were curious about what kind of outstanding orphanage could nurture someone as remarkable as you.”
“Exactly,” Jiang Yingyao chimed in. “So don’t feel burdened. We came partly for you, but not entirely. We also came out of our own kindness. Honestly, I really like kids.”
Jiang Yingyao gazed fondly at the children playing in the distance, his expression revealing genuine affection. His eagerness to interact with them was almost palpable.
Guan Xia felt a mix of emotions and instinctively looked at Pang Le.
Pang Le, however, startled as if she’d been caught red-handed. “Don’t look at me like that!” she blurted, taking a step back. “You know I’d never spill anything. I had no idea they were coming—I swear!”
Guan Xia, still processing her feelings, couldn’t help but laugh at Pang Le’s reaction. “What kind of person do you think I am?” she said, amused. “I didn’t even say anything yet. Why are you so nervous?”
Pang Le relaxed and grinned. “I’m not nervous! I just didn’t want you to misunderstand. I hate arguing—it’s exhausting. I’d rather fight, but I can’t exactly fight you.”
After rambling a bit, Pang Le abruptly changed the subject. “By the way, this orphanage is way nicer than I imagined. What’s that building over there? It looks like an auditorium.”
She scanned the area and quickly focused on a two-story circular structure.
Guan Xia followed her gaze and thought for a moment. “That must be the training center Mother Chen mentioned. It was built just a couple of years ago. Usually, it’s where kids take extracurricular classes. During holidays or when officials visit, they hold performances there. It wasn’t here the last time I visited.”
“Wow,” Pang Le said, impressed. “Quming City has developed this much in just two years? They allocated funds for a whole training center?”
Quming City, like Yongquan City, was part of Dingyuan Province, but due to its geographical limitations, it had lagged in development. Its population was small, and it had only gotten its first subway line the year before last.
Guan Xia shook her head. “It wasn’t funded by the city. Mother Chen told me it was donated by a former orphan who made his fortune from scratch. He didn’t just fund the training center—he also renovated the basketball court, soccer field, and running track. When I was a kid, he even sponsored art lessons and other talents for children here.”
“So it’s like paying it forward?” Pang Le mused. “Just like how you now send money back every month after making it as a comic artist.”
Guan Xia smiled and nodded, watching the children darting around under the trees. She’d heard the staff say many times that the orphanage’s growth wasn’t just due to government support. Many former orphans, now adults, contributed however they could—some donating large sums for buildings, others smaller amounts for books and stationery.
While they talked, the group finished unloading the car. Guan Xia wondered why no staff had greeted them yet—until she spotted a familiar figure hurrying toward them, carrying a little girl.
She recognized Mother Chen immediately. Two years hadn’t changed her much—she was still plump, warm-smiling, and her eyes sparkled at the sight of them.
Despite the heat, Mother Chen ran over, waving from afar. “Guan Xia, you’re back!”
Guan Xia rushed to meet her and, noticing her sweat-drenched face, instinctively took the child from her arms. “Mother Chen, I’m home.”
Mother Chen hugged her tightly, then pulled her into the shade, reaching for the child again. Her eyes gleamed as she studied Guan Xia. “You’ve lost weight, but you’re paler and prettier now. Still, don’t overdo it—health comes first. Girls are beautiful at any size. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
This was her usual refrain during calls, as if fearing Guan Xia would starve herself.
Guan Xia dodged her hands, adjusting the child in her arms for comfort. She studied Mother Chen fondly. “And you’re just as healthy and lovely as ever.”
Mother Chen beamed at the word “healthy,” her gaze overflowing with warmth.
After catching up, Guan Xia finally asked, “Where is everyone else? Uncle Chen, Aunt Liu, and the new staff from my last visit—why haven’t I seen any of them?”
“What a coincidence,” Mother Chen said. “Wu Yang—the one who funded the training center—sent his secretary today to donate for a new library and renovate the dormitories. Oh, and Meng Lan’s assistant came too, bringing gifts for the kids and offering personal sponsorships. The staff are swamped. They’d actually set someone aside to welcome you, but I missed you too much, so I volunteered.”
"Meng Lan?" Guan Xia froze upon hearing the name, but what surprised her even more was that Meng Lan hadn’t come herself—instead, she had sent an assistant.
The last time they had spoken, Meng Lan had just switched jobs to a major company, doubling her salary but drowning in work, facing fiercer competition than before. Yet in just a few years, she had already risen to a position where she had her own assistant.
Guan Xia felt both happy for her and strangely conflicted. They had once been so close, just like she and Pang Le were now. What could have happened to make Meng Lan suddenly cut off contact?
Guan Xia couldn’t make sense of it. She wanted to let go, but she couldn’t.
She tried to keep her expression calm, but Mother Chen, who had raised her for over a decade, saw right through her. Softly, Mother Chen reassured her, "Yes, it’s Meng Lan. That girl disappeared for years without a word. You’re not the only one worried—I was too. So when I found out the young woman was Meng Lan’s assistant, I made sure to ask about her."
Mother Chen sighed. "That child has had a hard time. The assistant said Meng Lan went through so much these past few years. First, there was an accident that nearly took her life. She and her older sister were fine, but her recently reunited birth parents and younger brother didn’t make it—a gas leak. Her sister was away on business and escaped the tragedy, but Meng Lan was there. Thankfully, she was stronger and managed to struggle to the door to call for help before collapsing right at the threshold. She barely survived. After that, the two sisters were buried in arranging funerals for the three family members and handling the estate. Her sister, decent enough, only took some money and property, leaving their parents’ business entirely to Meng Lan. That’s how she ended up with an assistant. These past two years, she’s been working day and night to take over the company. The assistant said Meng Lan really wanted to come herself, but an important meeting forced her to send someone else instead."
Guan Xia listened intently, but her mind was in a daze. So much had happened to Meng Lan during the years they’d lost touch. But why hadn’t she told her? Was it to spare her the worry? Or was she simply too busy? Or worse—had Guan Xia become insignificant to her now that she had family and a career of her own?
Guan Xia cycled through every possible explanation. One moment, she painted Meng Lan as heartless; the next, memories of their years together made her search for excuses. But no matter how she rationalized it, the urge to reach out grew stronger. Whatever the reason, she needed to hear it from Meng Lan herself—even if the truth was the worst-case scenario, that she no longer mattered to her.
With that resolve, Guan Xia looked intently at Mother Chen and asked, "Is Meng Lan’s assistant still here? I’d like to talk to her."
Mother Chen wasn’t surprised by the request. Taking the child from Guan Xia’s arms, she smiled. "Yes, she’s still at the training center. Right now, she’s helping Uncle Chen and Aunt Liu distribute gifts to the kids. It should be wrapping up soon, so you’ll have time for a quick chat. But hurry—Wu Yang’s assistant is in the director’s office, and once their meeting ends, Meng Lan’s assistant will be called in."
Guan Xia nodded and thanked Mother Chen sincerely.
With the child back in Mother Chen’s arms, Guan Xia finally got a clear look at her—a beautiful little girl, about five years old, with big round eyes that darted between Guan Xia and Mother Chen as they spoke. She was quiet but busy, and the sight made Guan Xia think of Meng Lan again.
Meng Lan had always been quiet too. She would sit silently beside others while they worked, testing the waters with a few words. If she got a response, she’d continue; if not, she’d simply stay there, companionably still.
Maybe that was why they had become friends. Guan Xia had always been the one to respond—no matter how busy she was, she’d spare a glance or a few words to show she was listening.
That’s why Guan Xia had never believed they could lose contact. She had always thought they’d stay friends forever. After all, she had never stopped responding.
