By the end of Guan Xia's conversation with Mother Chen, a young staff member hurried over. He looked somewhat familiar, but Guan Xia couldn’t recall his name. After a brief greeting, he enthusiastically took the gifts they had brought for the children.
He then offered to give them a tour of the orphanage, but the group declined, preferring to look around on their own.
After bidding farewell to Mother Chen and watching her disappear down the path with a child in her arms, Pang Le leaned closer to Guan Xia and asked quietly, "What were you two talking about? You didn’t look too good."
Meeting Pang Le’s concerned gaze, Guan Xia hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest. "Mother Chen told me some things about Meng Lan," she murmured.
Guan Xia recounted everything without holding back, and Pang Le frowned, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "I know this might sound like I’m stirring trouble, but something about Meng Lan feels off. Think about it—after reuniting with her family, so many big things happened. Based on what you’ve said before, she’s someone who loves to share everything. Logically, shouldn’t she have reached out to you, of all people? You’re the only one who knows her whole story. If she wanted understanding or someone to relate to, you’d be the obvious choice. The fact that she suddenly went silent makes me think there’s something she can’t tell you, something she’s afraid you’d figure out if she kept in touch. That’s why she cut contact completely."
Guan Xia listened, torn between finding Pang Le’s reasoning sound and feeling it didn’t quite hold up. Maybe it was because she was too close to the situation, but the more she thought about it, the more tangled her thoughts became. Finally, she shook her head. "Well, her assistant is here now. She might ignore my calls, but she can’t ignore her assistant’s. I’ll ask directly. If she still refuses to talk to me, then I’ll let it go. We were good friends, but that doesn’t mean the bond lasts forever. Life is like a train—people get on and off. If she chose to step off, I can’t force her to stay."
Guan Xia cherished everyone who had been part of her life, but there was a condition—they had to value her feelings and reciprocate her efforts.
Knowing Guan Xia’s temperament, Pang Le didn’t press further, simply giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
As the host, Guan Xia couldn’t leave Xu Nian and the others unattended. After checking in with them, the group headed toward the training center, with Guan Xia providing commentary along the way.
It had been years since she left the orphanage, and the place had flourished thanks to the success of its former residents. Even Guan Xia found herself marveling at the changes.
Apart from the slightly worn-out dormitory, many facilities were new—smooth, wide pathways, well-trimmed lawns, and a once-barren little park now bursting with vibrant flowers. The freshly painted gazebo made it easy to imagine children gathering there after school, studying or playing in the evenings.
As they passed the basketball court and rubberized track, the training center was still some distance away, but they could vaguely make out a small patch of land behind it.
Pang Le’s curiosity flared. "What’s that? It looks like farmland," she said, squinting.
Guan Xia took a closer look and smiled. "It’s a vegetable garden. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, always the same size. Before college, I’d help out every few days—picking vegetables when I was little, then watering, weeding, and even fertilizing when I got older."
It sounded like hard work, but with so many children in the orphanage, tasks were divided, making the daily chores manageable. Looking back, Guan Xia actually remembered it as a peaceful time—no need to think, just focus on the task at hand. Some of the livelier kids would chat while working, and Meng Lan often used those moments to share stories from her day.
The thought of Meng Lan dampened Guan Xia’s mood again, but luckily, they arrived at the training center, and she quickly shook off the gloom, leading the way inside.
The building hadn’t been there two years ago, so even while walking, Guan Xia found herself studying the surroundings. When they reached the second floor, her steps slowed as she noticed the portraits lining the hallway walls.
She had expected them to feature historical figures, like in schools, but instead, they showcased individuals who had contributed significantly to the orphanage’s development, as well as former residents who had achieved remarkable success. Guan Xia easily spotted Wu Yang, the "President Wu" Mother Chen had often mentioned.
His appearance didn’t stand out—a man in his forties with a round face, regular features, and clear, kind eyes. His gentle smile made him seem more like a teacher than a businessman, at least to Guan Xia, who admitted her impression might be stereotypical.
As she read the list of his accomplishments and contributions beneath the portrait, Pang Le called out, "Guan Xia, come here! There’s a portrait of you too!"
Surprised, Guan Xia hurried over and indeed found her own image—a photo taken two years ago in front of the dormitory at Mother Chen’s request. She looked relaxed and happy, likely because she had just earned a substantial sum, finally breaking free from poverty.
Guan Xia rarely took photos or looked in mirrors, so seeing herself now felt surreal.
Her appearance in this world was nothing like her past life. Back then, she had been petite but carried herself with a commanding presence—wearing heels, she could easily project an aura of someone 175 cm tall. She had loved her sharp phoenix eyes and angular face, which made her look intimidating when she frowned.
Here, though she was five centimeters taller, her features were delicate and gentle, almost too soft—like someone easy to push around. Every time she saw herself, it felt off, making her miss her old self.
But Guan Xia wasn’t one to dwell on the past. To avoid nostalgia, she deliberately ignored her current appearance. Now, staring at the portrait, her expression remained calm, but inwardly, she couldn’t help but grimace. Too harmless, she thought. I much preferred my old sharp edges.
Guan Xia realized she was once again reminiscing about the face from the past and immediately averted her gaze. Then, she noticed the portraits lining the hallway—many outstanding individuals who had grown up in the orphanage. There were professors from prestigious universities, authors whose books she had purchased, familiar actors, and even police officers, doctors, and soldiers.
Pang Le couldn’t help but marvel as they walked along, "No wonder your orphanage is so well-run. Look at all the talented people it’s nurtured."
Now, Guan Xia understood the purpose of displaying these portraits—to inspire every child in the orphanage. Even without parents by their side, they could still have a brilliant future.
After viewing the hallway gallery, Guan Xia suddenly remembered she still had business to attend to. Fortunately, Meng Lan’s assistant hadn’t left yet. Pushing open the door to the grand auditorium, which was typically used for performances, Guan Xia immediately spotted the young woman surrounded by children and staff.
Guan Xia waited patiently until most of the children had dispersed, leaving only the staff standing at a polite distance. Seizing the moment, she approached and extended her hand warmly. "Hello, I’m Guan Xia, a childhood friend of Meng Lan’s."
The young woman didn’t seem surprised by Guan Xia’s appearance. Instead, she studied her curiously for a moment before smiling and shaking her hand. "Hello, I’m Yan Fei, Assistant to CEO Meng Lan. I recognize you—your portrait hangs in the hallway. No wonder you and Meng Lan became friends. Both of you are exceptional."
Catching the implication in her words, Guan Xia felt a slight easing of the tension in her chest. After their handshake, she ventured cautiously, "You don’t seem surprised that I sought you out. Does that mean Meng Lan mentioned me to you?"
Yan Fei chuckled, answering with surprising candor. "Yes. Before coming here, though Meng Lan hesitated, she still instructed me that if someone named Guan Xia approached me, I could answer any questions I knew the answers to."
Guan Xia was genuinely taken aback. After a pause, she tested the waters further. "What if I wanted to contact her?"
Without hesitation, Yan Fei pulled out her phone. "Please wait a moment. I’ll call Meng Lan now to see if she’s willing to speak with you."
As Yan Fei stepped aside to make the call, Guan Xia waited anxiously. Pang Le murmured quietly, "Seems Meng Lan still cares about you. But something feels off—her behavior seems contradictory. I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to this."
Absentmindedly, Pang Le patted Guan Xia’s shoulder in a comforting gesture.
To Guan Xia, every second dragged like an eternity, but in reality, barely two minutes passed before Yan Fei returned, holding out her phone. "Meng Lan just finished a meeting. She has fifteen minutes before the next one. You can talk now."
Guan Xia hesitated, suddenly finding the situation absurd. For a fleeting moment, she didn’t even want to take the call. But in the end, her desire for answers won out.
Taking the phone, her emotions in turmoil, she managed to speak calmly. "Meng Lan?"
The familiar voice on the other end was far more animated than hers, as if waiting eagerly for this call. "Guan Xia? The last time I heard your voice was years ago. I’ve missed it so much. How have you been? I saw your comic series concluded—readers loved it! Congratulations on fulfilling your dream. Did you buy your own place yet? Listen, you can skip everything else, but having a home of your own is non-negotiable."
What baffled Guan Xia was how Meng Lan spoke as if they’d never lost touch, chattering affectionately, offering advice left and right, as though worried Guan Xia couldn’t take care of herself.
The resentment and confusion Guan Xia had carried for years softened slightly under Meng Lan’s relentless warmth—but only slightly. When Meng Lan finally paused, Guan Xia asked evenly, "All these years, why didn’t you reply to my messages or answer my calls? I believe you had a reason, so I’m listening. Explain."
Meng Lan seemed to choke on her words, falling silent for a long moment before admitting sheepishly, "I... did something I shouldn’t have. You know me—if we kept in touch, I wouldn’t have been able to keep it from you. But I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or disrupt your life, so I cut off contact."
Guan Xia let out a cold laugh, her mind racing. What could Meng Lan have done to betray her?
Before meeting Pang Le, Guan Xia had been too busy for many friends—Meng Lan was practically her only one. There was no one for Meng Lan to badmouth behind her back. Romance was out of the question—she’d been too focused on work to even meet men. Was it about her comics? Had Meng Lan been jealous of her success, leaving negative reviews or reporting her work?
Just as Guan Xia’s thoughts spiraled, Meng Lan cleared her throat awkwardly. "So... you know how I found my birth parents? I was so happy that I put myself in your shoes. I thought if you found yours, you’d be happy too. So... I went looking for your birth parents without asking you."
Guan Xia: "..."
This was the last thing she’d expected. Yet, upon reflection, it infuriated her. She hated when people made decisions "for her own good" without consulting her.
Taking deep breaths to keep her temper in check, Guan Xia asked as calmly as she could, "And? Did you confirm they’re really my parents? You didn’t tell them about me, did you?"
A second later, relief washed over her. If Meng Lan had revealed her existence, she wouldn’t have been able to peacefully finish her comic series or buy and decorate her home.
Sure enough, Meng Lan rushed to clarify, "No, no! After investigating, I realized you wouldn’t want to meet them, so I just observed for a while and left. Never spoke a word to them. As for confirmation... I had your hair."
Guan Xia: "..."
Her expression twisted in disbelief. After all their years together, not only had Meng Lan searched for her own parents—she’d taken it upon herself to hunt for Guan Xia’s, even secretly keeping strands of her hair.
Struggling to contain herself, Guan Xia finally snapped, her voice sharp. "What were you thinking? This is beyond unreasonable. How could you do something like this without my consent? You were right—this does affect our friendship. If you weren’t on the other end of this call, Meng Lan, I swear I’d punch you."
Meng Lan's tone grew increasingly guilty as she said, "That's why I didn't dare contact you—I was afraid you'd scold me. But honestly, aren’t you even a little curious? What kind of people were your parents? Were you abducted or abandoned? Why were you taken, or why were you cast aside? Don’t you want to know?"
Guan Xia's emotions stirred, but remembering Meng Lan’s earlier words, she kept her expression blank and replied, "I’m 25 now. I have my own career, my own life. Those 'whys' don’t matter to me anymore. They’d only make things worse, not better. So no, I’m not curious."
Meng Lan was momentarily silenced by Guan Xia’s response. Just as Guan Xia thought the conversation was over, Meng Lan suddenly asked in a hoarse voice, "But don’t you feel resentful, Guan Xia? They brought you into this world—how could they just discard you like that? You’re a person, not some pet. If they gave you life, they should have raised you properly, not left you on the streets to live or die. Have you ever thought about what might’ve happened if no one had found you and taken you to the orphanage? You could’ve ended up in a filthy dumpster before you even had a chance to open your eyes and see how beautiful this world is. What right did they have to take that from you? They had no right—none! They were the ones who should’ve loved you the most!"
Meng Lan’s voice rose with agitation, startling Guan Xia and sending an inexplicable pang through her chest. Even if she’d been slow to notice before, she could tell now—Meng Lan wasn’t just upset. This was something deeper, something raw and bitter, as if she’d been pushed to the edge.
Guan Xia had seen Meng Lan’s anger before, but it had always been tangled with longing, a desperate ache for the love of parents she’d never known. This fury, though—this was different. It was darker, heavier.
Suddenly, Mother Chen’s words about Meng Lan’s past and Pang Le’s analysis flashed through Guan Xia’s mind. She wasn’t just suspicious anymore; she was certain. Whatever had happened after Meng Lan found her birth parents—it hadn’t been simple. It couldn’t have been.
