◎What's Your Name?◎
Anyone close to Annie knew that due to her poor health since childhood, she rarely went out and hardly spoke. The time friends could spend with her was already limited, and even when they met, she often remained in her own world, barely sensitive to her surroundings. Later, her condition worsened for a period, making it even harder for childhood friends to see her—until a few years ago when her health improved.
After recovering, Annie became much more easygoing than before. She could communicate and interact freely, even embracing a carefree attitude. She never let her blindness make her emotionally fragile. Coming from a wealthy family, she had no financial worries and didn’t need to work. Her only small hobby was singing—perhaps because she couldn’t see, her other talents stood out even more.
Her voice was beautiful, and her musical sense was exceptional. Everyone agreed she should have been a singer.
But to say her temper had improved wasn’t entirely accurate. A better way to put it was that she had become someone who could engage with others, and her personality had grown more distinct.
She never treated her blindness as a big deal, demanding that everyone treat her like a normal person—if anything, she was even wilder than most. Bars and underground bands were her regular haunts. If someone crossed her, she would retaliate a hundredfold. No one could expect her to follow the rules; she might just emerge from the shadows to beat you up without anyone noticing.
So, her friends couldn’t help but admire her a little.
As for birthday gifts, everyone had learned their lesson early on.
Back when she was still a withdrawn child, her family would use her birthday as an excuse to maintain business connections. But who could have guessed that from her very first birthday, she would cry uncontrollably and run a high fever on that day, leaving everyone helpless?
It wasn’t until she grew older and could speak that she explicitly told her family she hated birthdays. At first, they didn’t take it seriously, showering her with expensive gifts—short of plucking a star from the sky for her. But she refused them all, throwing some away, burning others, and at her worst, locking herself in her room for the entire day.
Though raised abroad, her family had roots in China. Some elders wondered if there was some supernatural "element" at play and even invited masters from China to divine the cause.
The masters said she was tainted by bloodshed and owed a debt—this was her destined trial. Only when the person she had wronged appeared would the curse lift.
These explanations sounded mystical, but given Annie’s poor health, her family stopped pressing the issue. From then on, they never held birthday parties for her or even mentioned the day.
As her childhood friends grew up, they followed the adults’ lead and never sought her out on her birthday. In recent years, after her health improved, they’d occasionally meet for a meal—nothing more.
But what was she saying now?
Not only had she mentioned her birthday, but she was also demanding a gift from someone she’d just met!
Le Qing was utterly baffled. Wasn’t she supposed to despise birthdays?
And now, crammed in an elevator about to reach the restaurant, where was she supposed to find a gift?
With a ding, the elevator doors opened, and Le Qing’s eyes widened slightly, as if she’d been granted a reprieve.
Chelles stepped in to defuse the tension, ushering everyone out. "We’re here! Let’s go, let’s go."
But while everyone else exited, Annie remained standing in front of Le Qing, unmoving. Xuxu lingered curiously at the elevator entrance. "Auntie, aren’t you coming?"
Le Qing’s face flushed. She’d been dragged to this birthday gathering but now had nothing to offer.
She had nothing of value on her—just a bracelet Yu Shuqi had given her before. She couldn’t casually hand over some priceless trinket like the others might.
Softly, she said, "I’ll go buy something. Is there anything you like?"
Good-natured laughter drifted from outside the elevator. Ivy held the door open. "Annie, you’re scaring my god-sister."
"God-sister?" Annie withdrew her gaze, tapping her cane as she stepped out. Turning back, she smiled lightly. "Consider the gift an IOU. Come on."
Le Qing hesitated. She’d much rather stay in the elevator and ride back down.
But as if sensing her thoughts, Annie stopped at the elevator entrance, extending her cane. "Do you need it to guide you?"
Seeing no other choice, Le Qing stepped out.
This restaurant was different from the buffet downstairs—it was mostly reserved for private events. Aside from a few staff, there were no outsiders. Everyone acted as if they were at home, lounging on sofas or uncorking bottles of wine. Ivy, meanwhile, fetched some pre-prepared desserts for her child, explaining things the little one found curious.
Though it was Annie’s birthday, no one seemed to revolve around her. They all went about their own business, treating it like any other casual get-together.
Annie sat alone on a single-seater sofa, seemingly lost in thought.
After a moment’s hesitation, Le Qing walked over and sat beside her.
Noticing the movement, Annie tilted her head slightly. "Did I scare you earlier?"
There was something Le Qing had been curious about. "How did you know it was me?"
"They never approach me so cautiously," Annie chuckled. "You’re the only exception here."
Le Qing felt like she’d been dancing on the edge of a minefield. "Sorry, I came on short notice. I’ll bring a proper gift next time."
"No need. I really don’t accept gifts." Annie’s smile deepened. "But if you insist, there’s one thing I’d like right now—and you can give it."
"What is it?"
"Your face." Annie, who had been lounging lazily, leaned forward slightly, as if studying her features. "I’ve touched photos before. Now I want to feel the real thing."
Some people relied on touch to perceive others’ appearances, and Le Qing saw no issue with it.
She shifted closer. "Okay."
Annie’s hand rose slowly toward her face—though it veered slightly off course.
Without thinking, Le Qing grasped her wrist, guiding it to her cheek.
But Annie suddenly froze.
"What’s wrong?" Le Qing asked.
Annie tilted her head. "Your heartbeat is racing."
Heartbeat?
Le Qing instinctively glanced down. She hadn’t even noticed—how did Annie know?
She was a little nervous, sure, since this was her first time doing something like this, but not that nervous.
Before she could voice her confusion, Annie suddenly laughed softly. "Wait, no—that’s my heartbeat."
This time, Annie didn’t hesitate. Her fingertips gently brushed against Le Qing’s brow.
Her hands were cold, yet their touch was strikingly vivid, moving slowly and meticulously as if tracing every contour of bone beneath the skin.
Le Qing didn’t dare move a muscle.
"I’ve imagined it," Annie said.
"Imagined what?"
"Imagined you’d look exactly like this."
She had run her fingers over those photos countless times, yet something always felt missing—until now, when she could finally feel the warmth of Le Qing’s skin, solid and real.
Annie herself didn’t understand why she was so fixated on the warmth of another person. The moment she touched Le Qing, her eyes had prickled with unshed tears.
For the first time, she felt a pang of regret over her blindness—because she couldn’t see Le Qing’s face, couldn’t do more than conjure a vague image in her mind.
She withdrew her hand quickly. "I’ve received the gift. I like it very much."
Le Qing’s emotions were tangled. She’d never met anyone as peculiar as Annie—so unpredictable that Le Qing couldn’t anticipate her next move, leaving her perpetually off-balance.
Lost in thought, she was startled when Annie suddenly asked, "When’s your birthday?"
Le Qing blurted out without thinking, "I don’t remember."
The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Who forgets their own birthday? At the very least, she could’ve checked the original owner’s ID.
But the tension of the day had drained her, leaving no room for careful lies.
It was strange. Though Annie couldn’t see, Le Qing always felt as if those hidden eyes saw straight through her.
She wet her lips, scrambling for an excuse. "What I meant was—"
Annie chuckled softly, cutting her off. "You don’t celebrate yours either. Just like me."
Le Qing didn’t know Annie’s reasons, but she knew her own.
Growing up in an orphanage, birthdays were meaningless. The director threw a collective celebration for all the children on the same day every year, but Le Qing knew—that wasn’t her birthday.
Her birth had been neither wanted nor cherished. Even the date on her ID was fabricated.
No origin, no destination.
She was little more than drifting duckweed.
For years, she’d despised the idea of birthdays, never celebrating, never acknowledging.
Yet here was someone who shared that aversion—perhaps even more fiercely than she did.
"Happy doesn’t have to be reserved for birthdays," Le Qing said gently. "I hope you’re happy every day."
Annie turned her head toward her, then burst into laughter.
"People tell me that all the time—to be happy," Annie said, amusement thick in her voice, yet somehow hollow beneath.
"I’ve tried every method to find it," she continued. "But only once did I truly feel what happiness might taste like. Want to know when that was?"
Le Qing obliged. "When?"
"The day I heard a name I didn’t recognize," Annie said. "A person I’d never met, a name I’d never heard. But my heart raced just like now. I knew then—this person had to be special. I wanted to know her."
She didn’t say the name, but Le Qing already knew.
Unease prickled under her skin as she searched Annie’s face, wishing she could see past those dark glasses.
"Had you really never heard it before?" Le Qing asked, voice tight.
Annie’s reply was smooth. "If I had, I wouldn’t have had to wait this long to meet you."
The answer did nothing to soothe Le Qing’s nerves. She still didn’t know if Annie had once known the original owner of this body.
So far, no one had questioned her borrowed identity, but the fear of exposure was a taut wire in her chest, ready to snap any moment.
"What’re you two talking about?" Chelles interrupted, pushing a cart of liquor. "The chef’s still prepping dinner. Care for a drink?"
Annie leaned back. "Sure."
Chelles perched on the armrest beside Le Qing, grinning. "Annie’s got a killer talent for mixology. Let her show off for you."
Mixology?
Le Qing blinked. "That’s impressive."
Annie tilted forward slightly. "What’s your preference?"
Curious, Le Qing mirrored her movement. "I don’t drink much. Something light—I’ve got work tomorrow."
Annie extended a hand, and Chelles passed her a clean glass without a word.
Her fingers were elegant, nails neatly trimmed, devoid of adornment.
The glass spun once in her grasp before landing with a soft clink on the table.
"Is it because Le Qing’s here?" Chelles teased. "You’re in a better mood than usual. Actually cooperative?"
Annie’s retort was lazy. "What do you think?"
Chelles gasped dramatically, pointing at Le Qing. "It is because of you! She usually can’t be bothered to lift a finger, but today she’s mixing drinks without being asked. You’re closer to her than Lvy is—might as well dethrone Lvy."
Annie clicked her tongue. "The liquor."
Chelles dropped the teasing and handed her a bottle. "What’ll it be?"
Now Le Qing understood—Annie mixed by feel, with Chelles as her guide. Their tacit understanding was seamless. Every pour was precise, every measurement instinctive. Bottles and glasses obeyed her like trained pets.
Not a drop spilled. Not a measure short.
She nudged the finished drink toward Le Qing with an empty bottle. "Try it."
One sip, and Le Qing’s eyes lit up.
She’d always avoided alcohol, disliking its bite, drinking only when social obligations demanded.
But Annie’s creation was different—subtle, smooth, laced with the bright sweetness of fruit.
"It’s delicious," she murmured, surprised.
Annie turned toward her, a smile blooming.
"Make me one too!" Chelles protested.
Perhaps Annie truly was in high spirits—she obliged, though the bottles she reached for now were decidedly stronger.
Chelles noticed immediately. "Why do I get the hard stuff? Trying to get me drunk?"
Annie didn’t pause. "You asked."
"But Le Qing’s is practically juice!"
Annie’s response was breezy. "You’re different."
"How? Am I not as pretty?"
Annie didn’t miss a beat. "Obviously."
Chelles: "..."
Le Qing: "..."
He was about to combust.
"No way." Chelles fumed with anger. "Make her the same drink. After all these years, I’m the one who’s been your friend."
Annie paused mid-motion, handing over the finished cocktail with a faint smirk. "She’s a kid. Are you?"
A kid?
Le Qing froze, clutching the glass, then pointed at herself hesitantly. "Me?"
Sure, her grandpa calling her a kid was one thing, but what right did Annie have to say that?
"Are you not?" Annie’s tone was airy.
Le Qing cleared her throat. "I’m 24."
"Oh." Annie smiled. "Is that supposed to be old?"
24 wasn’t old?
Then how old are you?!
"Exactly, she’s 24," Chelles said, giving Annie a look like she’d lost her mind. "She’s even the aunt of two kids, and you’re calling her a child."
"Is that so." Annie’s smile faded slightly as she idly rearranged the bottles on the table. "Doesn’t matter. I still think she’s a kid."
Le Qing’s face warmed, so she quickly deflected Chelles’ brewing irritation. "I have work tomorrow—can’t drink too much."
Sure enough, his attention shifted. He downed the drink Annie had passed him in one go. "I actually wanted to book you for a shoot earlier, but I figured you’d be on a long holiday for your New Year. Didn’t expect you to be so diligent. If you’re free, we can schedule something."
"Sure," Le Qing said with a laugh. "But let’s keep business separate—payment’s non-negotiable."
Chelles roared with laughter. "No mercy, huh?"
Le Qing joked, "What can I say? Got two little ones to feed."
"No problem. Between us, I’ll pay you more, not less. Consider it milk money for the kids!"
Le Qing nodded. "Might have to push it a bit later though. I promised them I’d be back for the weekend. We can set something up for after that."
"Deal."
Annie, who’d been silent until now, poured herself a drink and sipped slowly. At this, she finally spoke up. "Who takes care of the kids?"
"We have a nanny, and their great-grandfather visits often," Le Qing explained. "They’re usually at kindergarten."
Annie gave a small nod, finished her drink, then stood and walked out, leaning on her cane.
Chelles, seemingly used to this, wheeled his drink cart away to mingle, knowing Le Qing couldn’t stay long. Left alone, Le Qing considered finding Xuxu to snap a few photos or videos for the kids back home.
But the moment she stood, a loud splash came from the pool.
Her heart lurched—wasn’t that the direction Annie had gone?
Without thinking, Le Qing sprinted over and saw a head bobbing in the water. Instinct took over—she jumped in, grabbing the person’s hand the second she recognized them.
"Annie, hold on tight!"
A firm grip locked around her wrist as Le Qing pulled Annie close, half-dragging her toward the edge.
Just as her hand touched the poolside, she was about to tell Annie to climb out first when a confused voice rang from above. "What are you two doing?"
The commotion had drawn a crowd. Everyone stared as Annie clung to Le Qing, whose clothes and shoes were still on, her face tense with worry.
"Help," Le Qing gasped. "Annie fell in."
Silence.
Only little Xuxu stretched out his tiny arms, eager to assist his "aunt."
"She… fell in?" Chelles nudged the kid back, doubling over with laughter as he pointed at the neatly folded clothes by the pool. "She went in on purpose."
Le Qing finally noticed Annie’s discarded shoes and jacket.
She froze. Then, faint tremors shook the shoulders pressed against her.
Annie, who’d been still until now, slid off her and effortlessly found the edge, sitting down. Her sunglasses were gone, revealing pale, unfocused eyes fixed on Le Qing.
No light in them, yet they seemed to sparkle with amusement.
"So adorable," Annie murmured.
Relieved she was unharmed, Le Qing hauled herself out. "I thought you’d slipped."
"She loves this kind of thrill—sometimes braver than the rest of us," Lvy cut in, handing them towels from a waiter. She shot Annie a scolding look. "Couldn’t you have explained? What if she catches a cold? She’s got work tomorrow."
Annie unfolded her towel. "Forgot."
Le Qing moved to dry her own hair, but before she could lift a hand, Annie draped the towel over her head.
"Sorry," Annie said softly, her tone uncharacteristically earnest. "I really did forget. Didn’t expect you to come."
When she’d heard her name, Annie thought she’d imagined it—until a hand seized hers.
She hadn’t lied to Le Qing. Hearing her name brought a joy she’d never known, yet touching her stirred an ache she couldn’t shake. So when Le Qing had pulled her close, her mind had gone blank, leaving no room for explanations.
By the time she’d snapped out of it, everyone had arrived—and selfishly, she’d wanted to stay pressed against Le Qing, feeling her heartbeat like it was her own.
"It’s fine," Le Qing said, cheeks warming as Annie gently towel-dried her hair. "I should’ve looked closer."
Annie’s clothes, glasses, cane—everything had been right there. She just hadn’t noticed.
"Got spare clothes?" Annie asked. "Go change."
"Yeah," Le Qing nodded. "In my room."
Annie bundled the towels around her and stood. "Let’s go. I’ll take you."
The others quickly passed Annie her jacket and cane.
The whole thing felt surreal to Le Qing. Shouldn’t she be the one helping Annie? Yet here she was, being looked after instead.
She pressed her lips together, draping her unused towel over Annie’s shoulders. "You’re wearing less than me."
Annie chuckled. "I’m tough."
Still, she didn’t shrug it off.
"What about your clothes?" Le Qing asked. "If you don’t mind, you could borrow mine. They’re all new."
Brother Jiang had recently gifted her a batch—stylish, high-quality pieces.
Without shoes, their heights were nearly matched, so the clothes should fit.
Truthfully, Annie could’ve just called the hotel for her usual brand’s delivery—she’d stripped down knowing fresh clothes were a phone call away.
But upon hearing Le Qing say this, she swallowed her words of explanation and raised an eyebrow instead. "Alright."
Back in the room, Le Qing eagerly pulled out the clothes to introduce the styles, hoping Annie would pick one. But the other woman seemed indifferent, simply gazing at her quietly. "You choose for me, and I’ll wear it."
There was no denying that Annie’s complete trust gave Le Qing a sense of confidence—of being needed.
She quickly picked out an outfit for Annie before heading to the bathroom to change.
Once inside, it suddenly occurred to Le Qing that from the moment she first met Sister Lvy to her initial encounter with Annie, she hadn’t felt the slightest bit of wariness.
Especially with Annie. She hadn’t even hesitated before accepting the drink Annie mixed for her—some of those cocktail names she’d never even heard of, let alone known whether they were strong or weak.
Yet she drank it without a second thought.
This wasn’t like her at all. Her upbringing had taught her to be cautious around strangers, let alone accept a drink from someone she’d just met in an unfamiliar setting.
But for some inexplicable reason, she felt completely at ease with Annie—trusting her, even feeling a belated fluster in her presence.
Was this the "strange kind of fate" Annie had mentioned?
By the time Le Qing finished changing and stepped out, Annie was already dressed.
When she saw the figure standing by the window, Le Qing froze for a moment.
Her clothes were simple in design, prioritizing comfort and elegance. On Annie, they softened the sharp edges of her usual intimidating aura.
Annie’s hair was down now, cascading over her shoulders, casting an approachable glow over her entire presence.
Hearing the movement, Annie turned and immediately locked eyes with Le Qing. "Ready?"
The moment their gazes met, Le Qing felt a tremor deep in her chest. She blinked, and vague memories seemed to stir—a face from the distant past overlapping with the one before her, so close yet so far.
A voice echoed in her mind, swirling just out of reach.
"I’ll beat up all the bad guys for you and become the strongest sister in the world."
"So call me 'sister.'"
"Once you call me sister, you can’t call anyone else that."
"Why?"
"Because sisters are family. I want to be family with you—just you and me, no one else."
Le Qing stood rooted in place, the scene before her flickering between clarity and haze. A child’s voice kept circling in her mind.
Someone stood before her, backlit, their hands covered in wounds, yet smiling as they asked, "What’s your name?"
"My name is Le Qing. What’s yours?"
"I… don’t have a name," the person replied.
"How can you not have a name? Without one, you wouldn’t know who you are. Who are you?"
"I’m your sister."
The voice in her head echoed relentlessly. Le Qing remained unresponsive until the figure by the window approached, lips moving as if calling her name.
"Le Qing."
She lifted her head slowly, the question slipping out instinctively. "What’s your name?"
The person before her paused under the light, backlit, seeming to smile. "Annie."
