◎Sorry, It's Okay (Part 2)◎
Le Qing saw the name of the recipient.
Aside from the surname, the person was called Le Yang.
"Director Qin found the head of Sunshine Orphanage," Jiang Suizhi said. "According to her account, the child—during the ambulance ride after the fall—expressed that if they didn’t survive, their heart could be donated to their adopted older sister."
This outcome didn’t surprise Le Qing.
She had seen the heart rate monitor on Annie’s wrist. It seemed that even after getting a second chance at life, Annie’s health wasn’t entirely stable.
If she and Annie had really been that close back then, and if she’d known Annie was sick, it made sense that she might have made such a choice in her final moments.
So, under those circumstances, it wasn’t impossible that Annie had later taken her name to live on.
But when she saw Jiang Suizhi’s expression, her instincts told her it wasn’t that simple. "There’s more, isn’t there?"
Jiang Suizhi glanced at the kitchen door, ensuring it was still closed, before straightening slightly. "Something doesn’t add up."
He was inherently suspicious—especially after what happened with Jiang Yan—and had a habit of assuming the worst in every situation.
And in truth, Le Qing’s case didn’t hold up under scrutiny.
"Heart transplants require HLA matching, which takes at least 2-3 hours. The headmistress said your heart stopped during the ambulance ride. Even if your fall was accidental, the timeline from matching to extraction doesn’t align. Not to mention, your name was on the records."
"There are too many coincidences here. A child wouldn’t know about organ donation unless someone suggested it to them—and unless preparations had already been made. Only then could the donation happen so quickly, and only then would the recipient just happen to be someone you knew."
Le Qing understood. When there were too many coincidences, they ceased to be coincidences.
"My sister wouldn’t do something like that."
"If our suspicions are correct, she might not have known either." Jiang Suizhi frowned. "The only one who knew… was that it was your heart."
That was why she had changed her name, living all these years under Le Qing’s identity.
Jiang Suizhi had looked into it. There were no adoption records for Le Qing from that year. But if he searched for Le Yang, there was indeed a girl three years older than Le Qing who had been adopted by a well-off family.
However, within a few years, that couple had committed suicide after their business failed. The girl who had taken the name Le Qing—originally Le Yang—had narrowly survived her parents’ hands.
This was why his father’s investigation had concluded that Le Qing was also an orphan.
Given the family’s financial situation at the time of adoption, and given the bond between her and little Le Qing, there was no way that couple wouldn’t have known about the younger girl.
Jiang Suizhi’s voice was low. "The headmistress said the couple originally wanted to adopt you. But you refused to go and insisted they take your sister instead—because you thought she was at the age where she needed to start school, while you could wait a few more years."
Le Qing bit her lip.
That was absolutely something she would do, even now.
But Jiang Suizhi was fixated on more than just that. The couple’s financial situation would have allowed them to strike a discreet deal with the headmistress—to arrange the matching in advance.
And then, at some point, they could have staged an accident leading to a child’s death.
An orphan’s death would attract no scrutiny. No one would mourn for her.
Even the sister who received her heart might have believed it was just an accident.
Le Qing had clearly considered this possibility too. She was silent for a long time before finally whispering, "Whether it’s true or not… don’t tell her."
Now she finally understood why Annie had never celebrated her birthday—why she hated it. Why that fortune teller had vaguely said she owed a debt.
But none of this was Annie’s fault.
Annie didn’t live with regrets. Neither would she.
"I’ll go see her," Le Qing said.
The best-case scenario was that it had all been an accident.
The worst-case scenario… well, she would be the only one who needed to know.
To uncover the truth, all she had to do was meet the headmistress.
With that, Le Qing turned to grab a small plate, intending to pick out the cookies and bring them to Annie and the children.
But the moment she moved, a strong grip yanked her back.
This time, Jiang Suizhi’s hold on her wrist was frighteningly tight. His other hand pressed against her shoulder.
"Get ready," he said.
Before Le Qing could react, the hand on her shoulder turned her face toward him. Jiang Suizhi gently brushed his thumb against her cheek and murmured, "This time, I’m really going to act shamelessly."
Without giving her a chance to respond, he leaned down and pressed a soft, warm kiss to her forehead.
Le Qing froze, her entire body stiff as if struck by lightning. For a long moment, she had no idea what to do or say.
The warmth on her forehead vanished as quickly as it came. The grip on her wrist and shoulder loosened at the same time, leaving her wondering if it had all been a hallucination.
"You—"
"Sorry." Jiang Suizhi had clearly decided to act first and apologize later. He held out his hand in front of her. "Hit me."
Le Qing’s thoughts scattered. Her expression was blank. "…What?"
Hit him?
"I couldn’t hold back." Jiang Suizhi’s hand rested on the counter, veins standing out against his skin. His other hand trembled slightly at his side, though his voice was steady.
"Le Qing." He smiled—but unlike his usual careless grin, this time his gaze was deeper than ever. "My heart aches for you."
Even he found this feeling hard to understand.
He had never pitied himself.
But seeing Le Qing standing there, facing a past that might hold something unbearably cruel—yet still determined to keep it to herself—made his chest tighten with pain.
Fear and heartache, tangled together.
Le Qing wiped her forehead, as if trying to erase the lingering sensation. She hurriedly turned away. "I need to pack the cookies."
"Not going to hit me?" Jiang Suizhi was well aware of her skills.
Le Qing glanced at his still-trembling hand. "I’m afraid you wouldn’t survive it."
A flimsy excuse.
Jiang Suizhi wanted to laugh but couldn’t. Instead of leaving as she’d suggested, he helped her transfer the cookies into a jar. "I’ll go with you."
Not a question. A statement.
As if he’d already decided this long before bringing it up.
Le Qing paused briefly before giving a quiet "Mm."
In the past, she had always done everything alone. But maybe… it was okay to have someone with her this time.
It occurred to her then—every time she’d needed to do something, if Jiang Suizhi wasn’t there, Lin Shengxi was.
Whether it was to protect the children or to protect her, he had always been nearby.
This feeling—of knowing she could turn around and find someone there—made her feel inexplicably safe.
-
The next morning, before leaving for the show’s recording, Le Qing woke up early to prepare. After arranging everything with Sister Wang, she knocked on Annie’s door.
Recently, Little Le Jia had switched to a new storytelling companion, so Annie mostly slept with them now.
"I have something to attend to and might not be back until tomorrow," Le Qing said. "Don’t worry about me."
Annie, still drowsy, half-sat up while holding the child. "Where are you going?"
Seeing her ready to tag along, Le Qing hesitated before answering, "Going out with Jiang Suizhi."
As expected, Annie froze for a few seconds before flopping back onto the bed lazily. "Fine, but no staying out overnight."
As if she hadn’t been the one peeking at their kiss behind the door the other day.
"We’ll see," Le Qing replied vaguely. "I’ll try to come back as soon as possible."
Annie waved a hand dismissively from the bed, and only then did Le Qing leave with peace of mind.
Jiang Suizhi was already waiting in the elevator lobby. He watched as she carefully closed the door, clearly trying not to wake anyone.
Observing her demeanor, she didn’t seem as downcast as he’d imagined.
She must have mentally prepared herself already.
Thankfully, Jiang Suizhi had taken the initiative yesterday—otherwise, he might have been swiftly outmaneuvered the moment he tried to comfort her.
But then again, a beating in exchange for some closeness…
Most people might not find that acceptable, but for him, wasn’t it just a double benefit?
The CEO had already set the tone for his future life.
Le Qing pressed the elevator button and noticed him still lost in thought, a faint smirk on his lips—one that suggested he was about to turn into a complete rogue. Her forehead burned with embarrassment.
Next time, if this man dared to touch or kiss her without permission…
She’d break one of his arms.
Stepping into the elevator, she deliberately said, "Are you waiting for the next one?"
Jiang Suizhi curved his lips slightly and followed her inside, amused as she resumed her usual habit of "facing the wall."
Still, now wasn’t the best time to tease her—she was as sensitive as a coiled spring.
He’d have to pick another moment.
"Have you decided what to do?" he asked, diverting her attention.
At this, Le Qing grew serious. "Yes."
She’d made up her mind yesterday.
Jiang Suizhi nodded. "It should be a sure success."
"Obviously," Le Qing said calmly. "The only one connected to me is my sister, not anyone else. I don’t take losses from outsiders."
In other words, she considered him an "insider."
Jiang Suizhi, thoroughly pleased, set off with his wife to back her up.
Several hours later, they arrived in Shuo City.
Liao Ming, the director of Sunshine Orphanage, had been informed by Director Qin that someone was coming to see him. An uneasy feeling had settled in his chest.
Lately, too many people had sought him out, all asking about the past. Though he’d repeated the same story thousands of times, he still couldn’t sleep at night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the serene expression of the little girl lying motionless on the ground.
Truthfully, in all his years at the orphanage, he’d encountered all kinds of children—plenty of well-behaved ones—but he’d never met a child like Le Qing back then.
Even in the face of death, she hadn’t shown a trace of fear. She didn’t cry or fuss, lying as quiet and still as a beautiful doll. She’d even endured the pain without shedding a tear as she signed the donation form—the only words she knew how to write.
Even now, years later, the memory of little Le Qing’s expression sent a chill down his spine. It was why he’d eventually left the orphanage and retired to a quiet life.
Just as he was lost in thought, Director Qin’s voice rang out from the courtyard. "Director Liao, the guests are here!"
Liao Ming jolted to his feet, pacing nervously around the coffee table before calling back, "Coming!"
"After leaving the orphanage, Director Liao returned to his hometown to grow flowers and live out his retirement," Director Qin explained as he led Le Qing and Jiang Suizhi through the small hedge-lined path. "The incident back then affected him deeply. He’ll be overjoyed to see you."
He glanced at Le Qing’s face, certain she was the grown-up version of that child.
Yet it still felt unbelievable—after all, he’d personally watched Liao Ming carry the child’s ashes.
"So… you didn’t die back then?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Le Qing noticed a man stepping out of the house. She smiled faintly. "Hard to say."
"Ah! Director Liao!" Director Qin waved enthusiastically. "Look who’s here!"
Liao Ming, seeing the courtyard suddenly crowded with people, was momentarily stunned. Apart from Director Qin, whom he recognized, the others seemed to be bodyguards. At the forefront stood a tall, imposing man and a slender woman with long hair.
"Who—" The rest of his words died in his throat as the woman turned, revealing her face.
His first thought wasn’t how beautiful she was, but how strikingly similar she looked to the face that haunted his nightmares—even now, all grown up.
"Director Liao," Le Qing said softly as she approached him. She lifted her gaze slightly and spoke in a quiet, steady voice. "Long time no see."
Those words alone made Liao Ming’s legs give out. He nearly collapsed, saved only by Director Qin’s quick reflexes. "What’s wrong?"
But Liao Ming was beyond answering. His eyes were glazed over, fixed unwaveringly on Le Qing’s face. "You…"
"Le Qing," she replied. "I’m Le Qing. Don’t you remember me?"
"How… how can you be Le Qing?" Liao Ming shook his head. "Le Qing was cremated."
He’d personally arranged for her body to be sent in.
The urn was still here!
With that thought, Liao Ming rushed to the corner of the yard, grabbed a shovel, and began frantically digging up his flowerbed, ignoring the bewildered onlookers.
Director Qin moved to stop him, but Jiang Suizhi’s sharp glance froze him in place.
Director Qin had known Jiang Hechang for years and was well aware of his two sons—the elder one and the younger one, whose ruthless methods had forced their father out of the company.
Faced with Jiang Suizhi’s silent warning, he instinctively backed off.
Le Qing had a sinking feeling. Her eyes remained fixed on Liao Ming’s frantic digging until he unearthed a small clay pot with a child’s photograph pasted on it.
The moment she saw the picture, her mind went blank.
It was as if a drill was boring into her skull, sending waves of dizziness crashing over her.
Without thinking, she grabbed Jiang Suizhi’s arm for support.
He held her firmly, letting her lean against him. "Not feeling well?"
"Give me a second."
What had once been a joke at Jiang Yan’s grave now seemed eerily prophetic. The sight of that clay pot triggered a flood of memories—both recalled and forgotten—leaving her overwhelmed.
However, Liao Ming had already taken out the ceramic jar and walked up to the group. "This is Le Qing. You're not Le Qing. Who are you?"
Le Qing tightened her grip around Jiang Suizhi's thumb. The moment Liao Ming turned around, she had already composed her expression and replied calmly, "How do you know what's inside this jar is Le Qing?"
"I... I saw her being put in there!"
"But you didn’t witness the burning."
"How is that possible?" Liao Ming stared at her face, as if searching for any trace of deception.
Yet the moment his gaze met her eyes—those eerily calm, almost chilling pupils—his mind went blank.
The child had looked at him the exact same way before dying.
Identical.
This time, Liao Ming could no longer hold onto the jar. It slipped from his grasp, shattered against a rock, and revealed a small, unburned fragment of bone inside.
Le Qing felt as though a boulder had settled on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
But seeing Liao Ming's reaction, she knew her purpose for coming here had been fulfilled. She crouched down in front of him, where he had fallen alongside the broken jar. "Do you still remember what happened back then, Director Liao?"
Liao Ming shook his head reflexively, shouting, "I don’t remember!"
"But I do," Le Qing said softly. "I’ve remembered for years. Every day, I thought about that letter of intent with my name on it. If you truly didn’t remember, you wouldn’t have kept fake ashes for so long, would you?"
She watched as his eyes flickered with panic before going dull. In a whisper, she added, "I came today specifically to repay your kindness for collecting my remains back then."
Liao Ming’s eyes turned bloodshot, his face ashen as if his lifeline had been seized. He lunged to strangle her. "Shut up!"
His hand barely made it halfway before Jiang Suizhi kicked him straight into the pit he had dug himself.
His backside wedged firmly in the hole, unable to free himself.
Several bodyguards immediately surrounded him, pinning his shoulders down.
Director Qin was stunned. "What’s going on here?"
Weren’t they just here for a family visit?
"I think Director Liao knows better," Le Qing said with a faint smile. "Don’t you agree?"
"Blame that heartless couple!" Liao Ming, already worn thin by years of torment, couldn’t even think straight—let alone reason that a person couldn’t survive without a heart. Faced with Le Qing, he couldn’t withstand scrutiny. Covering his head, he refused to meet her eyes. "It was all their idea! They forced me to do it, paid me off! If not for them, they wouldn’t have suffered retribution!"
So it was true.
Le Qing slowly stood up, no longer wanting to press further.
But before she could turn away, a familiar voice, icy and sharp, came from behind her. "What idea?"
Le Qing stiffened, whirling around in shock.
Annie stood at the courtyard entrance, flanked by Uncle Jiang and Old Master Jiang.
For the first time, genuine panic flashed across Le Qing’s face. "Sis, why are you here?"
"An'an told me a story last night," Annie said, her unfocused gaze directed toward Le Qing. "She said Auntie was going to meet someone today."
Though blind, she had no shortage of eyes to see for her.
Le Qing had deliberately kept her in the dark, but Annie had her ways.
Coincidentally, the two elders had gone to see the child, so they came together.
Le Qing took a shaky step forward. "I—"
But Liao Ming, upon hearing Le Qing call out "Sis," grew even more agitated. "Your sister? It was her parents’ doing! They told me to take you for a compatibility test, told me to push you! If you want to blame anyone, blame her!"
"What did you say?" Annie stumbled forward with her cane, all her usual nonchalance gone. Her steps were frantic, and she tripped over the uneven ground of dirt and rocks. "What did you say?!"
Le Qing rushed to help her up. "Don’t listen to his nonsense."
"Who’s spouting nonsense?" Annie’s eyes were red, her grip on Le Qing’s wrist iron-tight. Her other hand brushed against the exposed bone fragment on the ground, and she trembled, voice breaking. "What is this? Even now, you’re hiding things from me. Why?"
The bomb that had been ticking in Le Qing’s heart for days finally detonated.
She pulled Annie into an embrace, murmuring soothingly, "Because none of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong."
"You don’t remember," she whispered. "But you’re the one who saved my life."
In the memories that had resurfaced, she had pieced it together.
Back when she was still the outcast child in the orphanage, shunned by the others whenever they played outside, Liao Ming, as the director, had always turned a blind eye. So when she was left outside with a high fever, it was Annie—then a fellow wanderer—who found her.
It was Annie who used the money she’d earned from collecting bottles and begging to take her for an injection.
And it was Annie who later stood up for her every time she was bullied, vowing to be her sister, to become family.
She saved every scrap of food to share with Annie, and eventually, Annie brought her back to the orphanage, promising they’d be adopted together.
With Annie’s protection, no other child dared bully her when prospective parents came looking.
But Le Qing knew she was still young, while Annie was already at the age for school. The family only wanted one child, so she insisted Annie go first.
"I’m pretty," she assured her. "I’ll get adopted soon too."
"But you have to go first. Once you learn a lot, you can teach me everything."
Only then would they be separated.
Yet even after parting, Annie, now in a better life, would often return with new clothes and treats.
Then one day, Annie stopped coming.
Le Qing never doubted her. She waited patiently, certain her sister wouldn’t abandon her. They had a promise, after all—she’d even made a kite out of colored paper from the orphanage, eager to give it to Annie when she returned.
But as she skipped downstairs with the handmade kite, Liao Ming, who had been waiting, pushed her down the steps.
The orphanage stairs weren’t high, so she didn’t lose consciousness—just lay there in pain.
She watched as the director descended, crouching beside her. "Your sister is sick. She won’t be coming back. If you could help her, would you?"
The little girl nodded weakly.
Liao Ming smiled. "Good child. Then you’d give her your heart too, wouldn’t you?"
Her heart?
Wouldn’t that mean she’d die?
At that age, Le Qing already understood the terror of death, because she was on the brink of it herself.
No one came to her aid—only the head of the orphanage sat beside her, holding a piece of paper, watching as she writhed in pain, watching as her consciousness slowly slipped away.
"The heart must be extracted within five minutes after death," the head said. "Be a good girl and hold on a little longer."
Then she placed the paper beside Le Qing. "You know how to write your name, don’t you? Sign here. You and your sister were so close—you’d want to help her, wouldn’t you?"
Le Qing knew that if she didn’t sign, she wouldn’t survive either—the head hadn’t called an ambulance.
But if she signed, she could still save her sister.
So while she still had a shred of awareness left, she nodded.
The head guided her trembling hand to write the name she had barely had the chance to pen in her short life.
Later, she finally heard the wail of an ambulance—but she knew it wasn’t coming for her.
She lay there quietly, clutching the kite she never got to fly, waiting for the ambulance to come and take her life.
A life that should have vanished from this world long ago.
"Jie," Le Qing snapped back to the present, wiping the tears from Annie’s face, though they kept falling no matter how hard she tried. "Don’t cry."
Her voice was soft. "I’m still here. And you’ve lived so many years for me—I know that."
But Annie only gripped her arm tighter, fingers digging deep as if she could bury herself in Le Qing’s flesh, her sobs too overwhelming for words.
The little sister she had sworn to protect had ended up being the one to shield her, letting her live on in guilt and shame.
"I’m sorry," Annie gasped, barely able to breathe. "I’m so sorry."
Le Qing stayed silent for a long moment before swallowing back her own tears. "It’s okay."
She repeated it like a mantra. "It’s okay."
It’s okay.
Surviving was enough.
"How could it be okay?"
Jiang Suizhi turned his cold gaze to Liao Ming, who sat slumped on the floor, and crouched down. "Are you telling me that someone with a heart transplant—who stayed up every night singing in bars, drinking, street racing—somehow managed to give birth without complications?"
Le Qing’s expression froze.
