Through the phone, Guan Xia could hear Meng Lan's heavy, almost labored breathing, as if she could already envision Meng Lan's face twisted with agitation.
Her mind racing, Guan Xia deliberately sharpened her tone slightly, trying to calm Meng Lan down. She didn’t want an argument—people in extreme emotions often say things that hurt both themselves and others, things they can’t take back. She preferred calm conversations, the kind that actually solved problems.
Keeping her own emotions in check, Guan Xia spoke as evenly as possible: "Meng Lan, from a responsibility standpoint, every pair of parents should, in theory, raise their child properly after bringing them into this world. Morally speaking, they’re supposed to be the two people who love their child the most. But before they’re parents, they’re human beings first. They can’t be controlled, and we can’t control them. The only thing we can control is ourselves. If they don’t love us, then we have to love ourselves even more. We can treat ourselves like our own child—slowly, carefully, raising ourselves all over again. As long as we love ourselves, then we become the ones who love ourselves the most in this world. Whether anyone else loves us or not stops mattering. So, Meng Lan..."
Guan Xia made sure her tone was earnest, sincere. She wasn’t just spouting empty words of comfort—she truly believed this.
The reason she kept responding to Meng Lan wasn’t because she was particularly kind or endlessly patient. It was because she understood her. Before her transmigration, she had been the same.
She had once envied why other people’s parents were so loving, why those children could act spoiled and willful without consequence. Back then, she naively believed parents were supposed to love their children unconditionally. She had tried everything—being obedient, reaching out, even ingratiating herself—but nothing changed. The parents who were supposed to love her still looked at her with indifference, even blaming her for causing trouble in their new families. She was supposed to stay quietly in that old house, content with the alimony they sent, and never disturb them.
It took Guan Xia years to accept the truth: no one in this world is obligated to love anyone else—except yourself.
During those restless nights, she found solace in painting. As her skills improved, she finally made peace with herself.
And because of that, after arriving in this world, she could move forward without hesitation. She loved herself, so she was her own foundation. She firmly believed her life would only get better.
Guan Xia desperately wanted to share this hard-earned wisdom with Meng Lan. But before she could finish, Meng Lan cut her off with a few short, bitter laughs.
They sounded more like sneers than laughter. Meng Lan’s voice grew sharper: "Guan Xia, sometimes I really envy you. And sometimes, I hate you for it. Why is it that even though we both grew up in the orphanage, you’re always so calm? You always know exactly where you’re going, and nothing—whether people are kind or cruel to you—seems to shake you. I wish I could be like that. I wish I didn’t care about anything except working toward my future. But my heart won’t listen. My mind won’t either. They keep spinning out of control, always chasing after some ‘truth,’ always drowning in resentment. I don’t want to keep asking myself ‘why me?’ I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to hurt. But I can’t stop."
Meng Lan sniffled, then let out another hollow laugh. "Call me vicious if you want. Say I’m cruel. But when I helped you look for your parents, part of me did it out of spite. I wanted to see if you’d still be so unshaken after learning the truth about your past. So, I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m telling you anyway. I know you’ll want to hit me, so go ahead. I’ll be waiting."
For a split second, Guan Xia almost hung up. Not because she was afraid of some so-called truth about her origins, but because Meng Lan was clearly not in a good place. From their earlier conversation, Guan Xia could tell Meng Lan wasn’t as malicious as she claimed—otherwise, she wouldn’t have avoided contacting her for so long to preserve her peace. Guan Xia was just worried Meng Lan would say something she didn’t mean in this state.
But in the end, she stayed on the line, listening as Meng Lan continued mockingly: "You have no idea how much you look like your sister. The same eyes, nearly identical bone structure. But her smile is so much brighter than yours. And her eyes—so stupidly clear, it’s nauseating. Funny, isn’t it? Your parents were high school sweethearts who threw tantrums and threatened suicide just to have you. But less than two months after you were born, they decided you were too much of a burden, that you’d ruin their lives. So they tossed you into a trash bin like it was nothing. And then? A few years after college, they got back together, got married, and had another kid—completely forgetting you ever existed. Like they just assumed you were dead."
Meng Lan let out a cold laugh. "Doesn’t that sound absurd to you, Guan Xia? Doesn’t it make you furious? They just whimsically decided your entire existence—and your erasure. When I was secretly following them, I almost exposed you several times. I wanted to see that picture-perfect family of theirs crumble. But then I thought… people like that don’t deserve to be your family. You’re too good for them. Their existence is a stain on you. Of course, if you want me to ruin their lives now, I’d be happy to. What do you say? You’re successful now—might as well have some fun with it. Don’t you want to see them groveling, begging for your forgiveness?" Her voice was light, dripping with malice.
Guan Xia listened attentively but remained calm. There were things that could make her anxious, but when it came to parents, ever since making peace with herself, the word barely stirred her emotions.
She replied evenly, "No, I don’t. Their lives have nothing to do with me. I never craved their love, so whether they love me or not doesn’t matter. There are very few things I care about—but you’re one of them, Meng Lan. I’ve always considered us friends. Then and now. Because of circumstances, we missed out on years of each other’s lives. I’d like to make up for that. So, will you tell me what happened to you after we lost contact? And if you’re curious, I’ll share my side too—though mine’s pretty boring. You know how much of a homebody I’ve always been."
Guan Xia rambled on, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere with a sincere tone in hopes of fishing for answers.
Meng Lan remained silent for a long while before sighing and saying, "Actually, there’s a lot I’ve wanted to tell you, but so much has happened—it’s a long story. Let’s wait a few days. I’ll come to Yongquan City to see you. I still miss our time there when we were in school. I’ve always loved your campus—it’s so beautiful. We can sit in our old spot, chat, and enjoy the view."
Though she didn’t get the answers she wanted, at least there was a promise of another conversation. Guan Xia’s expression didn’t change, but inwardly, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Unless absolutely necessary, she didn’t want to lose this friend.
She quickly replied with an "Okay," and after settling on a time to meet, they hung up.
Handing the phone back to Yan Fei, who had discreetly stepped aside, Guan Xia smiled and thanked her before walking over to Pang Le, who had been watching her worriedly from the doorway.
Pang Le first studied her expression carefully before asking in a hushed voice, "How did it go? No fight, right? I thought I heard you say you wanted to hit Meng Lan. What did she do to you? If you’re serious about beating her up, do you need my help?"
Pang Le asked so earnestly that it seemed she’d set off immediately to rough Meng Lan up if Guan Xia gave the word.
Noticing from the corner of her eye that Xu Nian and the others were still admiring the paintings in the hallway, Guan Xia lowered her voice. "It wasn’t exactly a fight, just a disagreement. As for what she did to me…"
She hesitated briefly but decided not to hide it from Pang Le, whispering almost soundlessly, "Meng Lan did something shady behind my back—she tracked down my birth parents."
Pang Le gasped in shock, sucking in a sharp breath before finally saying, "That really is shady, no wonder you wanted to hit her. But this friend of yours…"
She rubbed her chin, searching for the right words before continuing, "Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of her. The way she’s acting now feels contradictory. If she went behind your back to find your birth parents, she must’ve intended to tell you, but instead, she cut off contact. It’s like she’s terrified of hurting you. Do you think she might be… you know, unwell? Not as an insult—I mean literally. Mentally, she might…"
Pang Le didn’t finish, instead tapping her temple with a pointed finger to imply the rest.
Guan Xia thought back to Meng Lan’s slightly erratic tone during their call and nodded hesitantly. "I did feel something was off. And I keep getting this gut feeling that there’s something strange about the way her birth parents and younger brother died. Like it might not have been an accident."
Pang Le blinked, then asked cautiously, "You mean… it could’ve been intentional?"
Guan Xia shook her head. "Hard to say right now. It’s just a hunch based on her behavior. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Anyway, she’s coming to see me in a few days. I’ll try to get more out of her then. If that doesn’t work, I’ll ask Sister Ji to look into it quietly."
"But what if it really wasn’t an accident?" Pang Le pressed. "And I swear I’m not trying to stir anything—it’s just that your instincts are usually spot-on. If she really did…"
The question weighed on Guan Xia too, and hearing it voiced aloud made her heart sink. Instead of answering directly, she said, "No matter who it is, if they broke the law, they should face justice."
Pang Le didn’t respond, only exhaled heavily and gave Guan Xia’s shoulder a reassuring pat.
After leaving the training center, Guan Xia took Pang Le and the others around to explore more of the area. She noticed even the small playground for children had expanded since her last visit, now much more entertaining.
Beyond the usual slides and sandpits, the playground had added tiny rocking horses and inflatable castles. Despite the harsh midday sun, kids were running in and out, their laughter ringing like wind chimes—infectious enough that even passersby like Guan Xia and her friends couldn’t help but smile and watch.
Standing under the shade of a tree, Guan Xia suddenly felt like she’d forgotten something. After a moment, it hit her, and she turned to Pang Le. "Why haven’t you asked me about what Meng Lan found out about my birth parents? Aren’t you curious at all?"
Pang Le kept her eyes on the playing children, answering without turning, "Of course I’m curious. But it’s your private business. And I know you—if you wanted to tell me, you would. So I’m just waiting."
"What if I never tell you?" Guan Xia teased.
Only then did Pang Le look at her, meeting her gaze with certainty. "You will. You even told me about Meng Lan. Something as trivial as your birth background? No way you’d keep that from me."
She said it so matter-of-factly that Guan Xia couldn’t help but laugh. The way people connected was truly strange—she and Meng Lan had grown up together, knowing each other yet not fully understanding one another, while Pang Le, whom she’d only known for a little over two years, matched her in almost every way beyond just values.
It just proved what she’d always believed: You have to love yourself first, and then the right people—the ones who truly fit—will come to love you too.
