◎Mature Love Doesn't Rely on Physical Affection (Part 2)◎
To the surprise of everyone in the Jiang family, none of the dreaded scenarios came to pass. No one expected Annie to hold no grudge against Jiang Hechang, the one who caused all the trouble.
Even Le Qing was taken aback. She thought that if she had gone through such experiences, she would have harbored at least some resentment.
On the way to the Jiang family's dinner, the two children rode in the same car as their great-grandfather and grandfather to chat. Originally, Le Qing had planned to drive Annie herself, but Jiang Suizhi insisted on joining them, saying that after a long day, it wouldn’t be safe for her to drive alone for three hours.
In the end, he ended up doing all the driving, so Le Qing moved to the back seat to talk with Annie.
Hearing her doubts, Annie smiled. "Holding onto grudges is exhausting. If I really had to dwell on them..."
She turned to look out the window, but all she saw was darkness.
If you truly love someone, the greatest regret is not being able to see them one last time.
"We couldn’t even die together," she said.
Le Qing rarely saw Annie express such raw, heavy emotions. Even when she met the two children, her heartache and guilt hadn’t made her seem as lonely as she did now.
Someone like Annie would love with her whole heart if she ever loved someone.
"It’s still early," Annie suddenly said. "I want to visit his grave. Maybe something will come back to me."
What weighed on her most was that Jiang Yan was gone, yet she still couldn’t remember anything about their past.
Detouring to the cemetery on the way back to the Jiang family home was convenient.
After guiding Annie to Jiang Yan’s grave, Le Qing stepped back, watching the usually proud and carefree woman stand there alone. Suddenly, she felt that keeping Jiang Yan’s story from her might not have been the right decision.
"I think she has the right to know," she murmured. "Like she said, the regret is not being able to die together. Even if your brother never came back, at least Annie would know he was always there. She wouldn’t have any more regrets."
At this, Le Qing grew curious. "Your brother didn’t lose his memories, did he?"
Jiang Suizhi didn’t think so.
After all, this was a man who meddled in everything—even his meals and his search for a wife.
But he had never heard him mention anything about Annie.
Jiang Yan was the type to share only good news, never letting anyone see his burdens.
"No," he answered.
Le Qing: "Then he could help Annie recover her memories."
At first, Jiang Suizhi agreed with Le Qing’s suggestion, but hearing this, something felt off.
If Jiang Yan was already talkative, wouldn’t he spend every day reminiscing about his sweet past with his wife?
Tch.
But then again, it might not be so bad. Maybe he could even learn a thing or two.
Le Qing grew more excited as she spoke, her eyes brightening. "Do you think my sister ever told your brother about me and her?"
Perhaps they could even piece together the missing fragments of everyone’s memories.
Seeing the rare spark of hope in her eyes, Jiang Suizhi felt his reservations—about anything—melt away.
He wanted to see her like this forever.
Meanwhile, standing before the grave, Annie felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness in the darkness. The cold touch of the tombstone sent her mood plummeting.
She took out the photo Jiang Yan’s father had given her and gently traced the characters of Jiang Yan’s name engraved on the stone.
Slowly, she reconstructed the man in her mind, sketching his outline.
There had once been someone by her side—someone who never seemed to lose his temper, no matter how coldly she treated him. He would always persist, greeting her with a smile.
In a dark, deserted alley, she picked up her fallen bag while the man stood there, his face bruised from fighting off thugs for her.
Yet he still smiled warmly.
"Now can I know your name?"
After a long pause, she heard her own voice—resigned but amused. "Annie."
The man’s smile deepened. "That’s really cool."
"You’ve probably heard it many times, but we should properly exchange names now." He extended a slender hand. "I’m Jiang Yan."
His hand was much warmer than hers, which was always cold. The memory lingered.
Unconsciously, Annie raised her own hand, but now only the evening breeze brushed her fingertips. It had been so long since she’d felt that warmth.
"Jiang Yan."
She whispered his name—perfectly pronounced in Chinese, a language she had never spoken so fluently before.
"Jiang Yan, stop following me. You don’t want to mess with me."
"Jiang Yan, do you have nothing better to do?"
"Jiang Yan, has anyone ever told you how annoying you are?"
"Jiang Yan, come listen to me sing tomorrow."
"Jiang Yan, you win."
The name "Jiang Yan" flooded her once-empty memories, filling the gaps. Hazy recollections surfaced, and his figure and smile gradually took shape.
Annie’s hand rested lightly on the photo as she chuckled. "Jiang Yan, huh?"
Her laughter blurred into tears.
In her memory, the man sat on the back of her motorcycle. She turned to fasten his helmet and tapped it lightly. "Jiang Yan, are you scared?"
Back then, she had raced on a winding mountain road for prize money, betting that every rider had to carry a passenger.
The challenge wasn’t just the rider’s skill and courage—it was also about the person on the back.
Jiang Yan had rushed over after work, still in his pristine blue suit and gold-rimmed glasses, standing out among the colorful riders. The crowd had stared.
And so had she, watching from afar.
She watched as he strode over, swung his long leg over the seat, and wordlessly settled behind her.
A woman in red leather and a man in a blue suit—the contrast was striking, drawing even louder cheers.
Amid the deafening noise, Annie said nothing. Instead, she turned and placed a helmet on his head, asking if he was afraid.
She heard Jiang Yan’s amused reply: "Afraid of what? If we die, we die together."
She remembered laughing.
That mountain road had felt like the longest and shortest ride of her life. She could still feel his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as they crossed the finish line. Her bike skidded to a stop.
Beside her ear, Jiang Yan’s voice, laced with laughter: "You won."
Annie laughed too before turning to remove his helmet. Her eyes met his behind the glasses, and after a few seconds, she took those off as well.
As she leaned in to kiss him, she heard herself say: "You won too, Jiang Yan."
Under the glow of headlights and the roar of the crowd, they had pledged their love.
And until the very end, she never regretted it.
Le Qing watched from a distance for a long time. When she saw Annie lower her head, she grew worried and approached. "Sis."
"Mm." Annie responded, standing up and carefully putting away the photo. "Let's go."
Hearing her perfectly enunciated Mandarin, Le Qing's eyes widened in surprise.
So Brother-in-law could even cure rare and complicated illnesses!
She asked excitedly, "Have you remembered everything?"
"Most of it."
At the very least, she had recalled everything related to Jiang Yan.
Le Qing felt both happy and a little down—happy that her sister’s memories weren’t completely blank anymore, but disappointed that despite standing right in front of her, they still hadn’t fully pieced together their shared past.
Was it because she didn’t have a tombstone?
At that moment, Le Qing suddenly thought of something important.
Uncle Jiang had once mentioned that the Le Qing from the orphanage had died at the age of five. So, what had happened to her remains and funeral arrangements?
If she could see them, maybe everything would come back to her.
Uncle Jiang might know more about this. She could ask him when they got back.
On the way back, no longer needing to struggle with English, Le Qing asked enthusiastically, "So how did you and Brother Jiang Yan meet?"
Up front, Jiang Suizhi, who was dutifully driving, felt his teeth ache from how sour the conversation was making him.
They’d never even met face-to-face, yet she called him "Brother Jiang Yan" just from seeing his memorial photo. Meanwhile, she still addressed him as "Jiang Suizhi" every single time.
Was it because his name had three characters?
Hah. Not even worthy of a generic "Brother" title—Little Le Jia at least called him "Brother Jiang."
Annie thought for a moment. "A scam."
A scam?
It was probably Jiang Yan who got scammed. The cars he drove never cost less than seven figures, so it wasn’t surprising if someone tried to pull a fast one on him.
But Jiang Yan usually just had his assistant call the police—except for that one time he met Annie.
After finishing her late-night gig, Annie was exhausted. Worried about accidents, she decided against riding her bike and tried to hail a cab instead.
But as she walked along the street, she accidentally stumbled and fell right in front of a parked car.
Jiang Yan, who had just wrapped up a business dinner, was waiting in the car for his driver to fetch him some hangover medicine.
When he saw a woman slowly picking herself up in front of his car, he sighed and stepped out to handle it himself.
Their first encounter was far from pleasant—Annie, wrongly accused, was furious. She slapped a ten-yuan bill onto his hood to express her anger.
Not a cent more. Any more would’ve been a loss.
Jiang Yan was so stunned by the audacity of someone "compensating" him with ten yuan that he stood frozen for several seconds—by the time he snapped out of it, she was already gone in a taxi.
Their next meeting happened when Jiang Yan visited a bar to discuss business with a partner. From the second floor, he immediately recognized the singer on stage.
Annie was impossible to miss in a crowd. Plenty of people came to that bar just for her.
And when she sang, she was nothing like the tired woman after work—she was effortlessly magnetic, radiating a lazy charm. That night, after her set, she strode over to a sleek motorcycle, put on her helmet, and roared off without a second glance.
From then on, Jiang Yan found excuses to conduct business at that bar, learning more about her bit by bit.
But they never actually interacted.
Annie was always in a hurry—arrive, sing, leave. No one ever got a chance to approach her.
Jiang Yan waited patiently until, one night, she didn’t leave immediately after singing. Instead, she sat at the bar and ordered a drink for herself.
Though she seemed carefree, Jiang Yan sensed a strange loneliness about her—one that drew him in. That was the first time he approached her, using the excuse of returning her ten yuan.
But Annie just glanced at him and ignored him like air.
Undeterred, Jiang Yan quietly sat beside her until she left.
They maintained this odd dynamic until one night, when he happened to see her being harassed by drunk thugs after work. That was when they finally spoke properly, and he learned her name.
"Annie?" Le Qing frowned. "Were you already called Annie back then?"
Why had Uncle Jiang said her name was Le Qing?
Annie’s brow furrowed slightly. "No."
"Only around Jiang Yan was I Annie."
She hadn’t wanted to use the name "Le Qing" for that unexpected chapter of her life. So the first time she told her bruised and battered savior her name—the moment she realized she’d fallen for him—she was Annie. The name she used when singing.
Le Qing nodded.
She wasn’t upset about her name being borrowed. If anything, she felt Annie had the harder burden—living out the life that the little girl who died too young never got to finish.
"Brother Jiang Yan…" Le Qing hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "He’s kind of like Little Le Jia’s system."
Annie, lost in memories, blinked. "What?"
"Jiang Suizhi said so." Le Qing pointed at the man driving.
The driver: "…"
Somehow, he still felt left out.
"Yeah," he admitted. "He confirmed it."
After a stunned pause, Annie suddenly laughed.
Honestly? She wasn’t surprised.
Le Qing quietly shared her and Jiang Suizhi’s plans, giving Annie a heads-up.
Contrary to expectations, Annie wasn’t as emotionally charged or fixated on whether Jiang Yan could truly come back to life.
She smiled faintly. "If you start with the best-case scenario, you’re just planting a landmine you know will explode someday. I can handle loss—but not the kind I see coming."
If she never let herself hope he might return, she could keep living when the end came.
But if she hoped, she’d have to endure losing Jiang Yan all over again—and that pain would haunt her forever.
She had two children now. A sister.
She wasn’t the same Annie who had nothing left to lose.
She was afraid she’d break.
"He probably thought the same."
That’s why he never planned to tell the kids who he really was. If Jiang Suizhi hadn’t recognized him, he might’ve taken that secret to the grave.
That man—sometimes he talked so much it was annoying.
But when it mattered, he never said what others didn’t want to hear.
"Will you tell him you know?" Le Qing asked.
Annie smirked. "I’ll tell him myself."
Le Qing touched her earlobe, not quite understanding these little games couples played.
But Annie and Jiang Yan seemed so in sync, so confident in each other.
Was this what love was?
Nothing like the guy driving up front, always itching for physical affection without any spiritual growth. Mature love didn’t need constant cuddling.
Le Qing felt enlightened.
By the time they returned to the Jiang residence, the two little ones were already half-asleep.
Each sat in their miniature Lamborghinis, parked on either side of the gate, eagerly waiting until they spotted Auntie’s car pulling in.
"Coming, coming!" Little Le Jia perked up, turned on the car lights, and made a U-turn. "Leading the way for Mom, Uncle, and Auntie!"
Grandpa had mentioned that Mom and Auntie were visiting their home for the first time, so they didn’t know the way and needed guidance.
Jiang Suizhi deliberately slowed the car to a crawl, following the two little ones at a snail’s pace as they led the way into the garage.
The Jiang family’s garage was massive, filled with all sorts of vehicles, but the most eye-catching was the row of tiny parking spots at the front—clearly modified from larger ones.
The two kids expertly parked their miniature sports cars neatly in their spots. Nearby stood an array of pint-sized cars—BMWs, Mercedes, Bentleys, and even some brands Le Qing couldn’t recognize. There was even a miniature excavator.
At such a young age, they already owned such an impressive "fortune."
Le Qing was amazed. It was clear how much fun the kids had been having during their time with the Jiang family.
After parking his little sports car, Little Le Jia even mimicked locking it before grabbing his sister’s hand and running over to Mom and Auntie. "Where did Mom and Auntie go?"
Annie replied, "We met a friend."
She crouched down, first scooping her daughter into one arm, gently stroking her cheek, and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.
Little Le Jia immediately widened his eyes and raised his hand. "I want a kiss too!"
"Exactly!" Jiang Yan’s voice echoed excitedly in his mind. "Make it two!"
"One is enough," Little Le Jia reasoned fairly. "One for Sister, one for Brother—that way, no one feels left out."
Jiang Yan: "..."
But what if he wanted one too?
He said, "Uncle also wants a kiss from Mom."
In Little Le Jia’s mind, kisses were a sign of affection. If System Uncle wanted a kiss from Mom, that meant he liked her!
"Does Uncle like Mom too?"
After a brief pause, System Uncle finally responded.
"Uncle loves Mom very much."
"But..." Little Le Jia hesitated. "Didn’t Uncle say you’re different from us? That you can’t be touched?"
He answered innocently, "Mom kissing Uncle wouldn’t do anything."
Jiang Yan: "..."
Since when did this little rascal stop being stubborn?
Was this really the time to apply logic?
He was about to counter his own past words when Annie beckoned to her son.
"Come here," Annie said.
The little boy eagerly approached, ready to bury himself in her arms like his sister, only for Mom to gently press a finger to his forehead.
His eyes sparkled. "Is Mom going to kiss me now?"
The answer came in the form of her soft lips brushing lightly against his forehead.
Just as Little Le Jia was about to hug her in satisfaction, he felt another kiss land in the same spot.
"Huh?" An'an pouted. "Why does Brother get two kisses?"
Annie smirked. "Because the second one isn’t for him."
Little Le Jia blinked. "Huh?"
It landed on his forehead… but wasn’t for him?
Who else could it be for?
Annie gently brushed her fingers over the spot she’d kissed. "It’s for someone Mom loves very much."
Both siblings immediately pointed at themselves in unison. "Me!"
But Little Le Jia noticed something else—after a brief silence, System Uncle in his mind suddenly let out a quiet, barely restrained chuckle.
"Uncle, why are you laughing?"
Much like his sister’s pride whenever she got a stamp from her kindergarten teacher, System Uncle’s voice carried a hint of smugness. "Laughing because Uncle’s love just came back to life."
Little Le Jia didn’t understand, but he was deeply impressed.
Meanwhile, An'an glanced at Uncle and Auntie standing behind Mom and found their expressions puzzling.
Why was Auntie grinning so widely?
And why did Uncle look… so disgusted?
Oh!
It must be because she hadn’t been Uncle’s "mouthpiece" today!
The little girl wrapped her arms around Mom’s neck and tilted her head back. "Uncle likes Auntie too! Uncle and Auntie should kiss!"
Le Qing, who had been happily shipping them: "?"
Jiang Suizhi, who had been stewing in jealousy just a second ago, raised an eyebrow and leaned in close to Le Qing’s ear, murmuring, "Can Uncle’s love come back to life too?"
Le Qing pushed his head back with her hand, studying him for a few seconds.
Her gaze seemed to weigh something seriously, and Jiang Suizhi’s heart clenched as his dark eyes locked onto her.
Then she sighed softly and said with utmost sincerity, "Jiang Suizhi, mature love doesn’t rely on physical affection."
Jiang Suizhi: "?"
Who the hell spouted that nonsense?
