◎Do You Really Like the Name Le Qing?◎
At this moment, in Shuo City, China.
Old Ou had practically driven all over Shuo City but still couldn’t locate the orphanage Mr. Jiang had mentioned. He finally said, "Sir, why don’t you just ask Young Master Jiang directly? This search isn’t getting us anywhere."
Jiang Hechang knew all too well that if his son found out he was questioning Le Qing’s identity before uncovering anything concrete, the already fragile family harmony would plunge back into icy tension.
Frowning, he ordered, "Keep driving forward."
Seeing Mr. Jiang’s stubborn insistence, Old Ou had no choice but to comply.
However, he soon overheard Mr. Jiang making a phone call.
"Director Qin, it’s been a while," Jiang Hechang exchanged pleasantries before cutting to the chase. "Nothing urgent. Just an old man with too much time on his hands. I heard about Sunshine Orphanage in Shuo City and wanted to see if there’s any way I could help."
"Disbanded?"
Director Qin replied from the other end, "That was over a decade ago. The director retired early due to poor health, and with no one to take over, the remaining children were transferred to orphanages in other cities. Naturally, it dissolved."
"Do you still have any registration records from that orphanage?"
Director Qin sounded puzzled. "Why do you need them?"
"An old friend is trying to locate a child from back then but has hit a dead end."
"We do have records. Which child are you looking for? Let me check."
Jiang Hechang asked, "Was there one named Le Qing?"
Director Qin paused for half a second. "Le Qing?"
His tone suggested he recognized the name.
"If we’re talking about Sunshine Orphanage, there was indeed a child named Le Qing," Director Qin said. "But you won’t be able to find her."
Jiang Hechang tensed. "What do you mean?"
"She’s dead. Passed away at a young age." Director Qin sighed. "I remember this clearly because a child’s death in an orphanage was a major incident. That girl was exceptionally pretty too—the director mentioned many families wanted to adopt her, but she refused every time."
This was an outcome Jiang Hechang had never anticipated. His heart lurched. "Dead? How?"
"An accidental fall."
Jiang Hechang pressed, "No chance of saving her?"
"How could there be? She was gone before reaching the hospital." Director Qin exhaled heavily. "The director fell ill and retired soon after, weighed down by the guilt."
The situation had grown even more perplexing. Jiang Hechang couldn’t piece together any coherent explanation. "So, there’s no record of a child named Le Qing being adopted from your institution?"
"None," Director Qin confirmed without hesitation.
Yet the records Jiang Hechang had dug up clearly stated that "Le Qing" came from this very orphanage.
After a moment’s thought, Jiang Hechang sent Director Qin a magazine photo of Le Qing he’d found online. "Does this person resemble the child you mentioned?"
A decade-old memory of an unformed child’s face—Director Qin was about to dismiss it as wishful thinking, but the image gave him pause. "The resemblance is uncanny, especially around the mouth. If I didn’t know that child had died, I’d say this was her grown up."
That child’s striking beauty had been unforgettable.
Jiang Hechang then pulled up an older investigation photo of Le Qing. "What about this one?"
"Not as close. Maybe a faint similarity in expression, but the facial features match the first photo better."
"You’re saying these two aren’t the same person?"
Director Qin chuckled. "Anyone can see they’re not the same person. What’s going on with you?"
"Nothing." Jiang Hechang pressed on, "Did that child have any siblings? An older sister, perhaps?"
"Of course not. Orphaned children don’t have siblings. What kind of family abandons their kids years apart?"
A storm of suspicion brewed in Jiang Hechang’s mind. The current Le Qing was only 24, but the one he’d investigated years ago was already 22. A changed ID was plausible, but a changed face? Impossible.
If the current Le Qing was the real one, then the "Le Qing" he’d met four years ago must have been an imposter she’d hired.
Meaning the one who went abroad was the fake, while the real Le Qing had been hiding in China under a false name.
But that didn’t add up either—Jiang Yan had indeed tracked her down abroad, and the woman with him was unmistakably the same one Jiang Hechang had met.
Now beyond cautious, Jiang Hechang ordered Old Ou to return to Beicheng immediately.
"Straight home, sir?"
Jiang Hechang snapped, "To Mingzhang Garden."
He’d long known where the couple lived. With Le Qing still overseas, gathering DNA samples from her or the child’s belongings would be easy—especially since the old man visited Mingzhang Garden daily.
Simultaneously, he left a message for his son abroad. Jiang Suizhi likely had more detailed records on Le Qing.
Little did he know how tormented his son currently was. After a sleepless night haunted by the psychologist’s words, Jiang Suizhi arrived at the meeting with an aura darker than a vengeful ghost.
When Jiang Hechang’s message came through, Jiang Suizhi reacted like a triggered nerve—these days, even the name "Le Qing" set him off. He immediately called back. "Why do you need her records?"
Jiang Hechang’s temper flared. Every conversation with his son felt like facing an enemy.
This time, he’d prove just how justified his actions were.
"I’ll apologize to her properly once you’re back," Jiang Hechang sidestepped, not revealing his investigation. "I need to understand her life these past years, unless you’d rather I remain an outsider in your eyes."
A twisted part of Jiang Suizhi actually agreed—the more Jiang Hechang knew, the fewer "complications" might arise later.
He was about to forward some of his own "background checks" when another message popped up:
"After all, she’s practically your sister-in-law now."
Jiang Suizhi: "..."
His eyelid twitched violently, lips pressed into a taut line.
If you can’t speak properly, don’t speak at all. If you can’t type, go play with a senior phone!
Beside him, Secretary Chen shuddered. The boss had been in a foul mood since morning, berating defiant shareholders and executives into stunned silence during the meeting.
Now his expression turned glacial, jaw clenched as he stabbed at his phone with undue force. Everything was progressing smoothly—why did he seem even angrier?
Secretary Chen couldn’t possibly know the boss’s fury had nothing to do with work.
"Be precise," Jiang Suizhi said icily. "Ex-sister-in-law."
Jiang Hechang: "?"
Since when did this brat learn to talk back?
"Mr. Jiang, let me take you to the hotel to rest," Secretary Chen suggested nervously, more concerned about becoming collateral damage to his sleep-deprived, inexplicably frustrated boss than actual hospitality.
Jiang Suizhi frowned. "No need."
"But the next meeting is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon."
Tomorrow afternoon?
Jiang Suizhi glanced at the time and the weather outside before suddenly remarking, "Spring has arrived."
Secretary Chen: "?"
"...I suppose so?"
"The weather is nice," Jiang Suizhi added.
Secretary Chen silently observed the gloomy, wind-chilled sky. Even if it were spring, it was still freezing—how was this "nice weather"?
"Perfect for a late-night snack," Jiang Suizhi mused to himself before asking, "Any recommendations?"
Secretary Chen: "..."
Did he look like someone who indulged in late-night snacks abroad? Every time he accompanied a boss on a trip, they were too busy to even catch their breath—forget late-night snacks, having three proper meals a day was already a luxury.
Besides, it was only 4 PM!
Who in the world ate late-night snacks at 4 PM?!
But as an overworked employee under his boss’s command, he knew that if the boss demanded a late-night snack right now, he’d have to conjure one up in the car. Drawing from years of experience in the secretaries' group chat—where they exchanged tips on handling domineering CEOs—Secretary Chen had a sudden epiphany.
It was 4 PM here, but in London, it would be the perfect time for a late-night snack!
"London!" Secretary Chen declared firmly. "I’ve done my research—their late-night snacks are excellent."
"Mm." Jiang Suizhi’s tone was indifferent. "Let’s go to London, then."
Secretary Chen thought to himself: If you hadn’t answered so quickly, I might’ve actually believed you were that calm about it.
Good. Now he could hold his head high in the secretaries' group chat again.
Because his domineering CEO was also a stubborn tsundere—one who self-soothed and made excuses for himself.
Hah. "Spring has arrived."
More like the CEO disease flaring up.
"Should we also check if Miss Le Qing is available? She’s in London too," Secretary Chen said flatly. "Models have tight schedules—appointments need to be made in advance."
Jiang Suizhi gave him a strange look. "Who said I was going to see her?"
"?"
Sir, would you like to review your own words for inconsistencies?
Adjusting his glasses, Jiang Suizhi leisurely flipped through the corporate executive documents in his hands. "You were the one who said London’s cuisine is good."
"..."
Tomorrow, I’m definitely voting for my boss in the secretaries' group chat’s "Most Domineering CEO" rankings.
But this time, Secretary Chen had misunderstood Jiang Suizhi. The CEO truly had no intention of dining with Le Qing.
At most, he just wanted to catch a distant glimpse of her.
That was all.
A few seconds later, Jiang Suizhi suddenly frowned again. "Let’s return to the hotel first."
He needed to change his outfit.
Jiang Suizhi had meticulously planned his itinerary and justified his actions—except for one oversight: the "exception" he hadn’t bothered to investigate.
Because Le Qing had just finished her photoshoot when Annie unexpectedly showed up and whisked her away.
Annie’s security was far tighter than the protection Jiang Suizhi had arranged for Le Qing, making it impossible for his people to get close. They could only discreetly report the situation to their employer.
Jiang Suizhi, still en route, frowned upon receiving the news.
It wasn’t Annie’s influence that bothered him—it was how quickly Le Qing had lowered her guard around someone she’d just met.
After all, it had taken him considerable effort to earn her trust. He’d practically laid himself bare before her just to be considered a friend.
Even now, the bracelet he’d given her had yet to see the light of day.
Yet here she was, in a foreign country, willingly leaving with a stranger without hesitation—no contingency plan, no hesitation.
Le Qing’s newfound ease in making friends filled Jiang Suizhi with an unfamiliar sense of crisis.
It was as if someone he’d never been able to hold onto was now soaring higher and higher, about to vanish beyond his reach.
The feeling was unbearable—agitating, yet something he had to suppress.
Because he knew full well that if Le Qing caught wind of his thoughts now, the consequences would be disastrous.
Secretary Chen felt like he was on an emotional rollercoaster alongside his boss. Cautiously, he asked, "So… are we still going?"
You’ve already changed your outfit—and into something so… peacock-like.
It was exactly like when his girlfriend put on full makeup and wore daily contacts, only to be told she couldn’t go out.
Realizing his emotions were showing, Jiang Suizhi adjusted his glasses. "Yes."
Meanwhile, on the other side, Le Qing hadn’t exactly been "taken" by Annie—she had been the one to initiate their meeting.
She hadn’t prepared a gift for Annie’s birthday, but since she’d already made the promise, she couldn’t just give her a casual touch. Besides, as Lvy had pointed out, whether she saw Annie as a younger or older sister, she wanted to give her something meaningful.
Time was tight, but after two days of deliberation, she’d finally settled on an idea.
The shop she had in mind was tucked away in a secluded alley, inaccessible by car. They had to walk the last stretch.
Le Qing hesitated before asking softly, "Should I hold your hand?"
Then, quieter still: "Or maybe just your sleeve?"
The street was safe—no cars, no hazards. Anyone familiar with Annie knew she never required special assistance. Yet when she heard Le Qing’s offer, she folded her cane without hesitation, extending her hand in complete trust. "Sure."
Unseen by Annie, Le Qing’s hand hovered at her side for a moment, brushing against her clothes as if steeling herself.
Just like the first time she’d held the twins—awkward and nervous—she was unfamiliar with the act of holding hands.
In her memories, no one had ever been this physically close to her.
Gently clasping Annie’s cool fingers, Le Qing focused entirely on the path ahead, warning her companion of every distant passerby.
Annie sensed her tension but couldn’t ease it—her own heart felt clenched, breathless, even timid.
Afraid Le Qing might let go.
Though she’d never seen a single image in her life, strange scenes flickered in her mind.
"I know this place—don’t be afraid."
She was holding someone’s hand.
How odd. The words were in Chinese—a language she didn’t speak—yet she understood them perfectly.
Behind her, a child’s unsteady footsteps followed resolutely. "With you here, I’m not scared."
"Really? Then I’ll sell you off!"
The child’s voice was innocent. "That’d be the same as now."
After all, neither of them had a home.
In the vision, she stopped, gripping the child’s hand tightly. "Even if we’re sold, we’ll go together—to the same place."
"Then I’m even less afraid!"
Hand in hand, the two children trudged up a narrow mountain path until they finally reached the summit.
"See? I didn’t lie—isn’t it beautiful?"
Golden sunlight bathed the mountaintop. Before them stretched an endless green field, dotted with running figures and kites of every color and shape soaring in the sky.
The child’s delighted voice rang out. "So close! It feels like we could touch them!"
"I always come here in spring," the version of myself in the memory said. "Seeing kites makes me so happy. I wish I could fly that far too."
A child's voice, innocent and naive, replied, "Do you need to take a plane?"
"And a spaceship," the memory-self added.
"Then wait for me to grow up, sis," the little child said. "When I'm older, I'll save lots and lots of money to buy you kites, planes, and spaceships. You’ll definitely fly far."
"But I’ll grow up first. When I have money, I’ll buy kites and bring you here every year to fly them."
"Then let’s pinky promise!"
The scene in her mind shattered with a sudden exclamation in reality.
"We’re here!" Le Qing said.
Annie snapped back to the present, her gaze still drifting as if searching for traces of those colors from her memories.
But it was futile. Only Le Qing’s voice in her ears reminded her that those were just illusions—and now, only Le Qing could fill the void left by that green figure.
Annie felt herself being led into a room filled with the faint scent of wood and paint.
"Where is this?" she asked.
"A handmade crafts shop," Le Qing replied, guiding her to a chair before sitting down herself. She pursed her lips slightly, looking a little awkward. "I wanted to make you a gift."
Handmade crafts were something Annie had always longed for yet felt out of reach. She didn’t even buy artwork.
But the person in front of her seemed unaware—or perhaps she had truly taken Lvy’s words to heart, treating Annie like any ordinary person who could appreciate art.
Annie didn’t consider herself particularly patient, but she found herself indulging this child in ways that even surprised her. She smiled. "Alright, what are we making?"
"Lvy said you love going out in spring," Le Qing explained as she sat down. "So I wanted to give you a spring-themed gift."
Actually, Lvy had also mentioned that despite Annie’s blindness, she especially loved sitting on the grass, "watching" people fly kites—though she never bought one or tried flying them herself. She just sat there, quietly observing.
Everyone found Annie’s habits a little strange.
Even Annie herself often couldn’t explain them. Aside from her inexplicable dislike for her birthday, she had always loved "watching" kites in the past.
It was odd, wasn’t it? She had never known what a kite looked like, yet she was so fixated on them.
And every time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the laughter, footsteps, or the unseen world around her felt so distant.
She had always felt like something crucial was missing from her life.
Until just now, she had finally reclaimed a piece of it.
"Is it a kite?" she suddenly asked.
Le Qing, who had been bending over a bamboo frame for the kite, looked up in surprise. "How did you know?"
"I guessed," Annie said softly, exhaling. "I’m looking forward to your gift."
"I consulted Chelles about the fabric," Le Qing said as she worked, keeping Annie company with conversation. "It’s specially treated so you can feel the patterns on it."
"And you?" Annie asked.
Le Qing paused. "Me?"
"If it turns out well, will you fly it with me?"
Le Qing froze.
The weather lately wasn’t ideal for kite-flying, and she was about to return to her home country soon.
But she still promised, "I’ll make time to come back. I can even bring my child along, and we’ll go together."
Annie raised a brow, amused. "That sounds like too much trouble."
Le Qing started, "Then I’ll—"
But her words were cut off by Annie’s next sentence.
"I’ll just go back with you."
"What?" Le Qing’s hands stilled abruptly. The bamboo strip she was holding snapped back, nicking her finger, but she barely noticed. She stared at Annie, stunned. "You mean… come for a visit?"
"I’m originally from China," Annie said. "What’s wrong with going home?"
"But didn’t you grow up here?"
"Yes, but I lost something. I can only find it by going back." Annie’s pale, sightless eyes rested calmly on her. "I promised you."
Le Qing’s heart skipped a beat.
She couldn’t suppress the surge of joy inside her. She felt a little guilty—her first reaction wasn’t concern for Annie’s family but sheer delight at her choice.
The shop owner, passing by, couldn’t help but glance at the two strikingly beautiful women. Then she noticed one of them was bleeding. "Oh my, your hand is hurt!"
Annie frowned and immediately reached toward Le Qing.
But Le Qing, snapping back to reality, stopped her. "It’s nothing, just a small cut. I’ll wash it off. Stay here—there’s a lot of clutter around."
She hurried to the restroom, following the signs, and turned on the cold water to rinse her finger, hoping the chill would steady her thoughts.
Just as she finally calmed down enough to think clearly, a voice called out from beside her.
"Eve."
Assuming it was just someone passing by, Le Qing turned off the water and prepared to leave. But as she turned, the voice spoke again.
"Le Qing?"
She looked back to see a woman around her own age standing nearby. Le Qing’s brows furrowed slightly.
The woman wore a spaghetti-strap dress with a thin shawl draped over her shoulders—an outfit far too light for the weather. Her ears were adorned with multiple piercings, her makeup heavy, and her gaze carried a mix of scrutiny and disdain.
Someone who knew the original owner of this body?
Le Qing didn’t answer immediately, instead drying her hands while meeting the woman’s gaze evenly.
"I wasn’t wrong," the woman said, stepping closer with a sudden laugh. "It really is you. You’ve changed so much."
To avoid giving herself away, Le Qing took a step back and asked coolly, "Can I help you?"
The woman paused for a second, then scoffed, repeating her words mockingly. "Can I help you?"
She smirked. "Can’t I just say hi? It’s been years. How about grabbing a drink? I know a better place now—guaranteed to help you meet richer men."
"Sorry," Le Qing said, tossing the paper towel into the bin. "I’m busy. I don’t have time."
"Wait." The woman caught up, blocking her path. This time, her gaze darkened. "Your English is fluent now. Seems like that face has gotten you far."
Face?
Le Qing lowered her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Wearing designer clothes, carrying yourself differently—you’ve done your homework, huh?" The woman smirked. "You don’t even respond to ‘Eve’ anymore. Guess you’ve fully embraced this identity."
What did she mean by "this identity"? What identity?
Suppressing her unease, Le Qing remained silent, watching her carefully.
But the woman stared unblinkingly at her face. "So weird. Your face healed so naturally—it’s even prettier than before."
"But it can only fool that dying woman. How much did she pay you?" the woman asked curiously. "Enough to make you go through all this trouble—changing your face to look like this and even taking on a Chinese name. Do you really like the name Le Qing that much?"
