Chapter 95 Part 4

While Tang Lian admired the awards, Zhou Ru pulled out a few slim photo albums and spread them on the desk, calling her over.

Compared to the text-only certificates, photos of baby Nan Qi were far more captivating.

Tang Lian spun around at once, eyes on the first album Zhou Ru had opened by year.

On the inside cover was a message penned by Nan Father in black ink: “Like the moon’s constancy, like the sun’s rising.”

And after that came Nan Qi’s childhood photos.

The first photo caught Tang Lian off guard. She had expected to see pictures of Nan Qi as a newborn or maybe at her first birthday, or even as a toddler clutching a plush doll. Instead, there she was, already growing into a young girl. She wore a goose-yellow sundress and carried a little backpack shaped like a yellow duck. Her hair was woven into an intricate fishtail braid, adorned with colorful claw clips around the edges. The whole look made her seem like a sweet little custard bun—one bite and the filling would ooze sweetness.

Her hands were tightly clasped in those of Zhou Ru and Nan Father. A hint of seriousness and unease shadowed her young brow, as if some complicated event had stirred her emotions. Yet overall, her expression was relaxed and joyful, radiating endless cuteness and charm through the pages of the album.

So Nan Qi had been the sweet and adorable type as a child.

“Nan Qi is just too cute,” Tang Lian said. “She looks like one of those little princesses raised in a bubble of love, dressed up all pretty and perfect every day.”

Zhou Ru’s face lit up with agreement, though a flicker of guilt tinged her smile.

Nan Qi had always been an exceptionally beautiful and cute girl. She didn’t even need to try—just standing there was enough to draw every eye.

Back then, Zhou Ru and her husband had visited the orphanage, hoping to adopt a child who felt like the right fit. After expressing their interest, the caregiver led them to interact with the kids. The other children eagerly joined in, singing songs, playing games, and vying for attention. But Nan Qi stayed quietly off to the side, doing nothing at all. She approached adoption with a totally chill attitude, as if to say, “Here I am. Take a look. Your call.”

Out of the crowd, Zhou Ru’s gaze had locked onto Nan Qi first. In that single moment of eye contact, Nan Qi’s calm eyes held no spark of longing or hope—just serene detachment. And in Zhou Ru’s mind, a single thought crystallized.

She had to adopt Nan Qi. She would be her mother and give her a life filled with happiness, surrounded by love.

But she hadn’t stayed true to that promise.

Once they had two children, and with their biological son proving even more fragile, Zhou Ru had neglected the moody teenager Nan Qi was becoming. She poured all her energy into Nan Xi instead. By the time she realized her mistake, Nan Qi had passed through those sensitive teenage years on her own. She had grown independent, her personality quietly transforming into something distant and unyielding.

It was like a train that had started down the tracks, only to veer off course due to an accident. Getting back on the right path was nothing but a pipe dream—utterly impossible.

“Little Qi was especially cute back then,” Zhou Ru continued. “Every day, she’d run into our room to confess her love, declaring that Little Qi loved Mommy and Daddy most of all, and asking if we loved her the most too.”

Tang Lian slapped her thigh, utterly charmed. “Oh man, I never imagined she had a side like that.”

She kept flipping through the photos. As Zhou Ru explained, Nan Qi hated having her picture taken. Whenever she spotted a camera aimed her way, she’d get up and step out of frame until the coast was clear.

Tang Lian finished the albums, just as Zhou Ru had said. The most photos were from around age ten, and Nan Qi was always smiling in them—either beaming at the camera or pulling silly faces. But as she got older, the pictures dwindled sharply. The exaggerated expressions and playful engagement vanished. Her whole demeanor shifted to something aloof and cool, like the poised urban professional Nan Qi had become. In just a few minutes—far less time than it had taken to start—Tang Lian had seen every photo of Nan Qi still kept at home.

Curiosity piqued, she asked, “Why are there so few pictures after high school? And her vibe changed so much—from sweet little bean to icy mountain. What about even earlier ones from when she was smaller? Did you forget to bring those, Aunt Zhou?” Her eyes brimmed with genuine puzzlement.

The room fell silent the moment the words left her mouth, as if time itself had frozen.

Zhou Ru paused, her face growing heavy. After a long hesitation, she finally spoke. “Little Tang, has Nan Qi ever told you… that she’s adopted?”

Tang Lian froze in shock, shaking her head as she listened to the rest.

Zhou Ru didn’t spell everything out, but Tang Lian could piece it together with a moment’s thought.

“Nan Xi was your biological son, conceived after you adopted Nan Qi. They’re not blood siblings. That’s why Nan Qi grew so insecure and fragile as a kid—because you and Uncle didn’t keep your promise to always care for her and look after her. She was already ten by then, old enough to think and remember. She wasn’t some little kid who’d forget a bad day after a piece of candy. She remembered every serious word you said. That’s why she kept asking, over and over, reminding you of your vow! Every day, she poured out her heart, saying she loved you most of all. But you… you stopped loving Nan Qi the most!”

Her voice rang out strong and clear, like a sword thrust into the earth, kicking up a cloud of dust as the shockwave rippled outward.

If she could, Tang Lian would hop into a time machine, scoop up that little Nan Qi who waited alone at school after her mom forgot pickup time—stuck there until the rain stopped, the last one to leave—and hold her tight.

She’d tell her not to be scared. Tang Lian was here to get her now. All her light was still ahead. Don’t let the present weigh her down.

Under Tang Lian’s pointed questions, Zhou Ru had no urge to argue back.

She only murmured softly, “I really do regret it…”

Neither she nor her husband had been good parents. If only… if another couple had adopted Nan Qi instead, Little Qi might have had a much happier life.

“But luckily, Little Qi got fortunate,” Zhou Ru added. “She met friends like you and Ranran who truly cherish her. It’s helped her feel less alone.”

Tang Lian’s teeth ached at the words. She didn’t want her name lumped together with Bo Ranying’s. She wanted to be right next to Nan Qi—in name and in person.

“Oh, right—I have some high school video tapes of Little Qi. Want to see?” Zhou Ru suddenly remembered. She rummaged around and pulled out a long-idle camcorder. After charging and powering it on, she navigated to the videos inside.

Of course Tang Lian wanted to watch.

She hovered by the camcorder, waiting for it to charge and boot up. She confirmed the videos were intact and playable. Her luck was holding strong.

Zhou Ru played the opening seconds. The fuzzy start jogged her memory of when and what it was. A video this memorable deserved a big screen, not the tiny camcorder display—that would just ruin the experience.

She transferred it to the TV and played it through the larger display.

Why not get the whole family to watch? It could be a nice trip down memory lane.

The pixel quality from back then wasn’t great, and Zhou Ru’s hand wasn’t steady. The screen shook for a dozen seconds before settling. Red LED text faded in on the makeshift curtain. Squinting, you could make out the words.

Dai City No.1 Middle School’s Seventh Art Festival…

The host announced: “Please welcome Nan Qi and Bo Ranying from Class 8, Grade 1 High School, performing ‘Jade Gives Birth to Smoke.'”

That year, the domestic guofeng girl group Seven Petals was still hugely popular. Their songs played everywhere—on campus radios, in street shops, their familiar melodies drifting through the air.

When Nan Qi and Bo Ranying headed out on weekends, Bo Ranying’s earbuds would always be tuned to Seven Petals tracks. She’d share one earbud with Nan Qi, and whatever she played, Nan Qi listened to.

That was how Nan Qi had discovered the group—through Bo Ranying.

Sometimes Bo Ranying went out without earbuds and would hum along naturally while chatting with Nan Qi. Hearing it enough, Nan Qi memorized the lyrics. One day, without thinking, she picked up right after Bo Ranying finished a line, singing a full verse. When she stopped, she met Bo Ranying’s wide-eyed admiration.

“Little Qi, your voice is incredible! Don’t tell me you’re some fugitive member of Seven Petals?”

Nan Qi’s cheeks warmed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not!” Bo Ranying pressed on. “Sign up with me for this year’s art festival. We’ll do ‘Jade Gives Birth to Smoke’—you sing, I dance. I have a feeling it’ll be a total showstopper. The Qi-Cherry duo, unbeatable at No.1 Middle School!”

“I…” Nan Qi’s first instinct was to refuse. She figured Bo Ranying’s fondness for her added a filter, boosting her singing in her friend’s eyes.

Bo Ranying kept stoking the fire. “You’ve watched me dance from the audience so many times, but you’ve never seen me on stage. It’s a whole different vibe. Come on, wanna give it a shot?”

“Our class president gets stage fright at national competitions, speeches under the flag, or assemblies. Opening a new front is no big deal.”

“Come on, come on—I want to share a performance with Little Qi~”

Bo Ranying stared straight into her eyes, wheedling with all her charm. Before she could pull out every trick, Nan Qi had already surrendered.

No one knew how to win her over quite like Bo Ranying.