"Mom?"
The spot on her wrist where the bracelet encircled it burned as if scorched by fire. Le Qing hastily withdrew her hand, feeling as though Jiang Suizhi's touch still lingered on the inner side of her wrist. Did this man have no sense of boundaries at all?
She shot him a glare.
But the man acted as if nothing had happened, completely unbothered. "This was a gift from a friend. Can't you accept it?"
What a clever excuse—"as a friend." It left Le Qing at a loss.
She could never refuse a friend.
However, Jiang Suizhi knew he was pushing his luck and decided to back off. "Are you going back?"
"Of course," Le Qing replied, clutching her milk cup for a sense of security, just in case he made another sudden move. "I only came out for work, not to emigrate."
Even if she were asked to stay away from the two children, she would still be living in the country.
At the thought, a smile crept into her eyes.
Jiang Suizhi noticed immediately. "You're smiling."
"So what?" Le Qing half-covered her face, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "This is ridiculous, Jiang Suizhi."
"..."
All it took was one night to ruin Jiang Suizhi's impeccable reputation.
But seeing Le Qing laugh so heartily made it seem like no big deal.
"Don’t tell Jiang Hechang," he grumbled, his expression sour. "Or anyone else in the Jiang family."
Otherwise, he’d be mocked for the rest of his life—no chance of redemption.
He might not care about saving face in front of his wife, but in front of those pretentious relatives? Absolutely necessary.
After this incident, Jiang Suizhi resolved to establish a new family rule upon returning home: everyone must speak their mind, especially when it came to important matters.
No more repeats of Jiang Yan’s situation—or tonight’s mess.
Mention of the Jiang family dimmed Le Qing’s smile. She wasn’t very familiar with Jiang Suizhi’s father, but their brief interaction had given her the impression that he wasn’t unreasonable. Still, the fact remained that he had once paid off the mother of his children to leave.
She wasn’t sure if her relationship with the children would face restrictions in the future.
"Your dad…" she hesitated. "Does he mind my background?"
Jiang Suizhi finished the last of his soup, wiped his mouth leisurely with a napkin, and scoffed. "He has no right to mind."
"?"
"Because of Jiang Yan’s mess, he’s already been nailed to the Jiang family’s wall of shame," Jiang Suizhi said. "But there’s one thing I still need to clarify. You said the twins’ mother is the woman upstairs?"
Before coming to find Le Qing, he’d had Lin Shengxi dig up all available information on Annie.
The woman had grown up in the UK, didn’t speak Chinese, and seemed entirely unrelated to the children.
"Unless something unexpected comes up, yes," Le Qing nodded. "But right now, both of us have forgotten a lot—especially her."
Her memories before the age of five were hazy, but everything after that remained clear.
As for Annie, she likely remembered nothing at all.
Le Qing lowered her voice. "That’s why she’s coming back to China with me. Maybe everything will come back to her."
"What are you worried about?"
As if pricked by a needle, Le Qing widened her eyes. "Me?"
"Haven’t you noticed?" Jiang Suizhi leaned forward slightly, pointing at her face. "When you’re uneasy, you curl into yourself."
Not exactly curling up—more like activating a defense mechanism.
It was the same detached demeanor she used to wear, as if nothing mattered.
Le Qing fell silent before retorting, "Are you a doctor now? Diagnosing people like that."
He really knew how to analyze others.
"Not a bad thing," Jiang Suizhi said. "As a friend, I should be able to talk to you about this."
He understood that in Le Qing’s heart, Annie might be more trustworthy. But if this was something she could discuss with Annie, she wouldn’t be reacting like this.
"Does it involve her?" Jiang Suizhi paused. "If what you say is true—that she was Jiang Yan’s girlfriend—then don’t I also have the right to know?"
That made sense.
"I’m not worried," Le Qing admitted her concern. "But I think the truth will be harder for her to accept than for me."
"Why?"
"Because I can’t think of any reason why someone would live under another person’s name," Le Qing hesitated. "Or why she feels so much guilt toward me."
Could it be that her supposed death at age five was somehow tied to Annie, leaving her with lingering remorse?
Jiang Suizhi understood now—she feared that uncovering the truth would only hurt Annie more.
"Jiang Yan once told me the woman he loved was confident and bold. Someone like that wouldn’t regret her mistakes, no matter what," Jiang Suizhi stood and moved closer to her, sitting just a bit nearer. "So no matter what happened in the past, I think she’d want to know. Running away solves nothing."
That was exactly why Le Qing hadn’t stopped her.
No matter what had happened, she could never blame Annie. That woman was supposed to be her sister—family.
The only one left for her.
If she was uneasy, Annie probably was too. It was better to talk it out.
"I’m going upstairs," she said abruptly, quickly gathering the empty bowls Jiang Suizhi had finished. "You should rest early. The same room as last time."
Who knew that trying to comfort her would drive her away instead?
Jiang Suizhi felt utterly defeated. He’d hoped to keep talking a little longer.
"Oh," Le Qing turned back after a few steps. "When are you leaving?"
Jiang Suizhi: "?"
"The misunderstanding’s cleared up," she looked at him, puzzled. "Don’t you have work?"
"...I do."
Jiang Suizhi clutched his head and throat, feigning weakness. "But humans get sick. Life happens."
Le Qing: "I made enough noodles for two."
You didn’t even leave a drop of soup.
Old sayings claimed that a good appetite meant recovery was near.
If he had the energy for romance, he had the energy for work. Le Qing wouldn’t tolerate anything interfering with responsibilities.
"Jiang Suizhi," she frowned. "If I’m disrupting your normal routine, then maybe you shouldn’t pursue me."
Jiang Suizhi stood frozen in place, dumbfounded.
What just happened?
Had the progress bar suddenly reset?
He just wanted to see her!
This was his first time in love—his first crush!
Was it so wrong to be a little lovesick?
Why was she treating him like one of the kids?
For the first time, Jiang Suizhi truly understood how cruel he’d been when he’d forced the twins to overcome their aversion to kindergarten.
Now he felt the same reluctance—the dread of going to work.
But under Le Qing’s increasingly disapproving gaze, he swallowed his protests. "I’ll go back tomorrow."
Only then did Le Qing seem satisfied, turning to head upstairs.
With the room given to Jiang Suizhi, she’d have to share a bed with Annie.
Maybe because she’d slept beside the twins so often, Le Qing no longer felt as resistant to close contact as before.
She pushed the door open cautiously and found the lights still on in the room. Annie wasn’t asleep but was instead watching videos on her phone.
They were the short clips the kids had posted online. Those two seemed to have relapsed into their internet addiction, posting dozens of videos a day—so many that it was impossible to keep up. They practically documented every moment of their daily lives in segments.
"I haven’t checked in a few days either," Le Qing walked over. "How far along are you?"
"You let them go to the company for work," Annie set her phone down, naturally making space for her with practiced ease. "You two finished talking?"
Le Qing paused for a moment. "Yeah."
"You must like him," Annie said.
Le Qing explained, "We were friends before this."
"But you’ve also said you have a hard time saying no to friends."
Le Qing lifted the blanket and lay down, staring at the ceiling. She nodded, then shook her head. "But it’s different from romantic feelings."
"That’s a relief," Annie sighed. "I thought he might sweet-talk you into leaving."
The words made Le Qing’s face flush. No matter what, she was a grown woman in her twenties—how could she be swayed by a few honeyed words?
Annie added, "Putting aside his brain, I admire his approach."
"What?"
"Doing everything possible for the person he loves," Annie’s tone held a note of approval. "That’s how it should be. Love is only love when it’s felt."
Le Qing blinked.
She wanted to say she hadn’t just felt it—she’d been forced to hear it over and over again.
The intensity in his gaze was palpable, especially after he found out she wasn’t his brother’s girlfriend. There was no restraint left in him.
Only then did Le Qing realize how reserved Jiang Suizhi had been before.
She burrowed deeper into the blanket, unwilling to dwell on him any longer, and deliberately said, "He even wants to be the kids’ stepdad."
"..." Annie fell silent for a few seconds before replying, "Never mind. Can’t put that aside after all."
Le Qing stifled a laugh, glancing at the still-playing videos on the phone. "After we return to China, do you want to see them? If you don’t want to go to the Jiang family’s place, we could probably bring them out."
Listening to the children’s innocent, youthful voices from the phone, Annie closed her eyes. "I’ve never been a mother."
She couldn’t recall the months of pregnancy, nor did she have any memories of raising them.
She worried that even if she met the children, she wouldn’t be able to give them the unconditional love of a mother.
If that were the case, maybe it was better not to see them yet.
That was why she kept listening to the recordings of their voices, over and over.
But their voices still felt unfamiliar to her.
Le Qing asked, "Do you want to see them?"
The room fell quiet for a few seconds before Annie let out a resigned sigh. "Of course."
Ever since learning she might have two children, even if she hadn’t shown it outwardly to avoid worrying others, she had been thinking about them constantly—while also fearing she couldn’t give them the love they deserved.
Children weren’t like her sister. Her sister was an adult, with shared memories between them.
But with the children, everything was blank.
She couldn’t fill in those gaps.
"Then let’s meet them," Le Qing said softly. "When I first came here, I was always overthinking things too. Even the smallest kindness from the kids made me anxious, afraid I’d grow too attached to ever let go. But this situation made me realize that once you accept something, it’s hard to walk away."
Even knowing she wasn’t their real aunt, she couldn’t bring herself to cut ties completely.
This time had been a fluke—but who could say when the next unexpected event would happen?
With her wavering heart steadied by the reassurance, Annie smiled. "Alright. Let’s meet them."
Here they were, two grown women in their twenties, lying side by side—yet it almost felt like they were kids again, squeezed onto the same tiny bed.
Exhausted from taking care of both Annie and Jiang Suizhi all day, Le Qing quickly drifted off to sleep.
Only Annie remained awake, idly patting the blanket.
Faintly, she remembered how, many years ago, it had been Le Qing gently patting her blanket instead. "Don’t be scared, sis. From now on, we’ll be together. I’ll sing you to sleep."
In the darkness, Annie smiled silently before finally falling asleep as well.
---
This time, Le Qing didn’t stay in England for long. The first reason was that her work was done. The second was that she needed to bring Annie back to China. And the third… was that she suspected Jiang Suizhi didn’t need sleep.
Every day after meetings, he still found time to drive to her filming locations, watching her more intently than the camera itself.
Left with no choice, Le Qing decided to make her escape first.
But this time, she’d learned her lesson. Before leaving, she called Jiang Suizhi to say she was wrapping up work early and taking Annie back to China—so he shouldn’t come looking for her.
On the other end of the line, Jiang Suizhi gave a few absentminded replies. It was hard to tell if he’d actually listened.
Annie didn’t own any property in China, so Le Qing had to take her back to the old apartment. "This place was bought with the kids’ child support. I’ll transfer it to your name in a few days."
Though she couldn’t see, Annie could smell the faint scent of flowers in the air—along with the milky sweetness of baby formula.
She raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I need a house?"
If not for wanting to come back with Le Qing, she wouldn’t have lacked for places to stay.
"Even if I remember everything later, I’d only buy you another one—not take this back," Annie ruffled her hair. "Don’t say things like that again."
Le Qing: "..."
All her friends, sisters, uncles, and grandpas kept offering her houses and cards.
She really didn’t fit in.
Since she couldn’t match their wealth, she’d have to make up for it with effort. Le Qing wheeled the suitcase into the room. "I’ll put your things in the master bedroom first."
The apartment was small, so they couldn’t bring many staff.
Annie’s overseas attendants couldn’t come due to the language barrier, so they’d planned to hire new ones after arriving.
As she groped her way toward Le Qing to help, the doorbell suddenly rang. She turned back to answer it.
Pressing the intercom, she asked, "Who is it?"
No answer.
Annie frowned.
Then, a little girl’s hushed voice came through. "Grandpa, crouch lower. You’re too tall—Auntie won’t be surprised if she sees you!"
"I’m already as short as I can get," an old man’s voice grumbled. "Any lower and I’ll have to crawl."
A little boy chimed in, resigned. "Then crawl, Grandpa."
The rustling at the door was anything but subtle.
Annie’s fingers trembled slightly on the handle, unsure whether to call Le Qing or just open the door herself.
Then the little girl’s puzzled voice piped up again. "Why isn’t Auntie opening the door? Was she just now going ‘whoosh whoosh’?"
Clearly, they hadn't been exposed to advanced English vocabulary yet in kindergarten.
"That's English—it means 'Who are you?'" the old man said. "Didn't your teacher teach you not to open the door when you don’t see anyone outside?"
"Oh, right." Little Le'an thought for a moment, then squeaked in a playful voice, "An'an is not An'an!"
Annie: "..."
This couldn’t possibly be her child, could it?
With a click, she opened the door and followed the sound, looking down—only to see darkness.
But suddenly, noise erupted around her.
Two small, soft hands wrapped around her legs: "Waaah!"
"Auntie, surprise! An'an is An'an!"
Annie’s heart fluttered slightly. In that instant, her entire body was enveloped in a warmth she had never felt before.
Feeling the little faces nuzzling against her legs, she used the gentlest voice she could muster: "I’m not your auntie."
The two children hugging her legs didn’t understand the words, but the voice sounded unfamiliar. They tilted their heads in confusion: "Huh?"
Jiang Hechang, who had just straightened up while holding his aching back, caught sight of the young woman’s face—and her sunglasses. His gaze froze for a split second before he blurted out, "Le..."
No, this wasn’t the Le Qing he had met before. Their features were different.
Yet, something about this woman’s style and presence gave him a fleeting sense of déjà vu.
Hearing his voice, Annie turned to look. Out of politeness, she removed her sunglasses, her light-colored eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you Jiang Yan’s father?"
The moment the keyword was triggered, Jiang Hechang broke out in goosebumps for no apparent reason. It felt like he was back in that private room, facing off against someone, mixed with an inexplicable guilt.
He wanted to run, but there was no escape.
Clearing his throat, he replied in English, "That’s what he calls me."
Annie nodded.
The siblings quickly realized they had hugged the wrong person and let go. An'an looked up curiously and asked, "Who’s the pretty lady?"
Annie parted her lips but couldn’t bring herself to explain her identity.
How could she say she might be their mother?
Though An'an didn’t understand English, the words "mom" and "dad" were familiar from the interactive learning devices and kindergarten lessons.
Staring into the pretty lady’s eyes, the word "Mom"—both familiar and strange—made her forget, for a moment, that she was supposed to hide the uniqueness of her eyes. She blinked slowly. "Mommy?"
Jiang Hechang: "???"
After a few seconds of stunned silence, his shocked and bewildered mind latched onto one crucial point: The banquet hadn’t been held yet! The apologies hadn’t been made!
He was going to be ostracized again!
His mouth moved faster than his brain: "But nowadays, they usually don’t call me 'Dad.'"
Yeah, they just called him by his name now.
