Qihai City, East Ring Mountain District, Qihua Garden.
This mountainside residential complex had been positioned by Qihai City’s real estate developers as a mid-to-high-end neighborhood.
Why mid-to-high-end? Because rather than touting its expansive mountain views, fresh air, and top-notch security, it was far more honest to just point to the 26,000-yuan-per-square-meter price tag.
Price was always more real than any tangible perks!
Across all of Qihai City, that figure was more than enough to justify the upscale label.
And Chi Yuliang’s home was right here.
No wonder she was always so grateful for her current life… This was one big reason.
It made perfect sense.
Years ago, a poor little girl from the orphanage—someone who woke up every day to mud walls and tiled roofs—had suddenly been whisked away to a spacious house with mountains visible the moment she looked up. And then she was told this was her new home.
The shock of that moment still lingered vividly in her memory.
Such a massive change would have gone to most kids’ heads, leaving them floating on cloud nine.
But not Chi Yuliang.
Far from it. She understood full well that her adoptive parents had given her this life, so she had to repay their expectations with hard work and effort.
And so, Chi Yuliang had gotten into Capital University.
Talk about making them proud—and putting the entire neighborhood in the spotlight!
As a result, Qihua Garden had earned a nickname in the owners’ group chat: Top Scholar Mansion.
We’ve got a citywide Gaokao top scorer right here!
Chi Yuliang probably had no idea, but the neighborhood’s property prices had ticked up even higher over the past couple of years—and her sky-high Gaokao score was undoubtedly a key factor.
~~~
Right now, though, this former Gaokao top scorer showed zero awareness of her status.
Chi Yuliang had gotten up early, originally planning to preview the research topics and papers her graduate advisor had assigned ahead of time.
But after a full morning on the task, her progress stood at…
—”Create new document.”
She hadn’t even typed in the paper’s title yet!
Chi Yuliang blinked her big, dark eyes at the blank screen, then shook her head with a wry smile.
It had been years since she’d been this unproductive with her studies.
Truly unworthy of her.
But what could she do about it?
With a clack, the girl shut her laptop—the umpteenth time that morning she’d grabbed her phone instead, pulling up the photo album glowing on the screen.
It was a recent selfie.
The background showed the artificial lake at Ye Family Manor. In the foreground were Ye Zhibai and Chi Yuliang, shoulders pressed together, both facing the camera.
Chi Yuliang smiled softly at the lens, while Ye Zhibai’s brows were pinched tight—that was her trying (and failing) to smile, only to get frustrated and furrow her brow instead. Utterly adorable.
Since Chi Yuliang had taken the selfie herself, she couldn’t capture the full landscape. It was just their faces and a slice of the stunning scenery behind them.
But that was plenty!
Because Little Bai was prettier than any view.
At home, Chi Yuliang wore pajamas.
Light, breezy silk for the summer, trimmed with lotus-flower lace. As strands of her long purple hair brushed the fabric, they made a pleasant rustling sound.
She’d picked a stretchy style on purpose—otherwise, it pinched uncomfortably at the chest.
Chi Yuliang cradled her phone in both hands, zooming in and out obsessively. This was the only photo in her album marked as a favorite, and before she knew it, her whole upper body had slumped across the desk.
Her chest pressed against the wooden surface, the relaxed sensation drawing a soft sigh from her lips. Her long, slender, shapely legs—even with bare feet—twitched in response.
If Ye Zhibai saw her like this, she’d be floored.
The poised, flawless Sister Liang, humming a little tune over a single photo, lazing about with all the sloth of… well, Ye Zhibai herself!
Still not satisfied, Chi Yuliang scooped up her phone and slid off her swivel chair. Momentum carried her backward onto the bed.
Thud!
The mattress springs launched her whole body bouncing back and forth a few times.
That delightful “boing-boing” symphony mingled with the girlish fragrance unique to her room, now laced with a hint of milky sweetness.
She propped the phone against the bedrail at an angle so it would display sideways on its own, then groped along memory for the big white pillow at the headboard and hugged it close.
Curling up her arms and legs, her dreamlike purple hair spilling freely down her back, she turned into a massive “dumpling” rolling end over end across the bed!
“Little Bai… still so cute… Sister’s so happy… Wonder if she liked that scarf…”
It had been years—many, many years—since Chi Yuliang had acted this childish.
She was even surprised at her own lapse.
But her heart was just so full of joy!
At first, simply knowing Little Bai was alive had been surprise enough. But just the other day, Little Bai had even made time to have dinner with her!
As her big sister, Chi Yuliang couldn’t have been more gratified!
Knock, knock.
“Yuliang.”
And there was more—Little Bai finally had a family that loved and cared for her. Her little sister really, truly cherished her. Though… was the concern a tad excessive?
“Yuliang?”
Well, excessive concern wasn’t so bad. At least this way, Little Bai wouldn’t get hurt. That put her mind at ease. She—
“Yuliang, are you in there? Time for lunch.”
Click.
The sound of her bedroom door opening. Huh?
Chi Yuliang’s rolling came to an abrupt halt.
The big pillow at her chest was finally spared any further strain.
She stared blankly toward the doorway, her gaze frozen.
There stood a middle-aged woman with short black hair, staring back in equal shock and surprise.
After a brief hesitation, Chi Yuliang calmly released the pillow.
She gracefully swung her legs around, sat primly on the edge of the bed, cleared her throat twice, and pretended nothing had happened.
“Ahem… Mom, I must’ve dozed off. Sorry, I didn’t hear the knock.”
“You silly girl… Studying too hard again, huh? I heard you talking yesterday about cramming that paper today. Sigh… Yuliang, don’t push yourself. Look at you, rolling around on the bed from the stress… Ahem, never mind. Just take it easy, pace yourself. If you can’t finish, talk to your advisor—they’ll understand.”
“…”
Mama, thank you for understanding.
But this well-meaning misunderstanding made Chi Yuliang feel deeply ashamed!
Sorry… I still haven’t even figured out a title for the paper.
This kind-faced woman, who took good care of herself and showed hardly any wrinkles at nearly fifty, was Chi Yuliang’s adoptive mother, Fang Wenyuan.
Chi Yuliang knew it was about time for lunch, so her mom had come to fetch her.
She smoothed out the wrinkles in her pajamas from all the rolling, ran a hand through her hair, and got ready to head to the living room. She didn’t want to dawdle—Dad would be home from work soon, and they couldn’t throw off his afternoon schedule.
But as Chi Yuliang stood, she noticed her mom lingering in the doorway without moving.
And her expression was off—unnatural, eyes darting left and right.
As if she had something awkward to say and was wrestling with whether to spit it out.
Chi Yuliang, ever perceptive, picked up on it right away.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“Yuliang… It’s… Sigh, come on, lunch can wait. Sit down—Mom has something to tell you.”
“What’s going on…? You’re being so formal.”
Chi Yuliang fetched a chair for Fang Wenyuan and helped her sit.
Then she perched on the bed’s edge, facing her.
Chi Yuliang waited patiently, without a word.
If Mom had something important to say, she wouldn’t interrupt beforehand.
After an agonizing stretch, Fang Wenyuan’s brows knitted tight, her eyes brimming with regret.
Finally, she spoke.
“Yuliang… I’ve been mulling this over and over, and I still think… you need to know. Your dad is torn up about it too—he doesn’t dare tell you, scared it’ll hurt your feelings. But if he won’t say it, I can’t stay silent either.”
“Mom, take your time. I’m listening—no rush.” Chi Yuliang soothed her gently.
Fang Wenyuan clasped her hands in her lap and slowly bowed her head.
She looked for all the world like she was the one confessing a fault.
“Sweetie… Your dad and I have always wanted you to cut ties with the orphanage, to hang out with kids from better families who know more of the world. It’d broaden your horizons. Sigh… We know you have ties there, but as parents, of course we want you to excel. And now you do—you’ve made us so proud, everyone envies our family, your achievements. We’re thrilled for you… but we also feel so guilty.”
“Mom, I’ve told you before, don’t blame yourselves. I get it—you were doing it for my own good, and I understand. But… you’re being awfully serious. This can’t just be rehashing old ground, right? What happened? Tell me—don’t keep it bottled up.”
“This… Yuliang, let’s get one thing straight first. I can tell you, but please don’t get too upset after you hear it… Sigh, who am I kidding? How could you not be sad? Mama just hopes you’ll look forward and not let the past keep holding you back.”
Though Chi Yuliang had no idea what was coming, she nodded vigorously all the same.
What on earth is going on…? Why does Mama seem so downhearted today? She’s usually so cheerful and upbeat.
Fang Wenyuan paused deliberately, giving Chi Yuliang a moment to brace herself mentally.
This news was just too heavy—too heavy.
Then, she gently placed her palm over the back of Chi Yuliang’s hand.
Forget foster mother and daughter for a moment; this was nothing but pure maternal love and concern.
Mama knew she might break down in tears, but… she hoped her daughter would lean on the family and not let the grief overwhelm her.
“The thing is… yesterday, the director at the orphanage called your dad. She let us know that the kid you were so close to back in the orphanage days—the one you got along with so well—passed away in a car accident. That child had made it to university, which wasn’t easy at all, and the orphanage only found out a few days ago. The director said… she felt it was her duty to inform you. Yuliang… listen to me, you…”
Fang Wenyuan had been about to keep consoling her.
But then she realized her daughter wasn’t crying at all!
Chi Yuliang blinked rapidly.
So that’s what this is about!
Holy cow… Mom, if only you knew… I’ve already arranged the funeral, and you’re only telling me now!
Well… Chi Yuliang had just messaged Ye Zhibai at the time and gotten no reply, so she’d looked into it and found out ahead of everyone else.
Seeing Yuliang not shed a single tear only made Fang Wenyuan worry more!
“Y-Yuliang? If you’re hurting, don’t hold it in… Tell Mama. Back then… I wouldn’t let you send that kid anything, wouldn’t let you keep in touch. Now I realize that was a mistake… Let’s go find out more, visit the grave, lay some flowers—would that be okay?”
“Mama.”
“Hm?”
“It’s sad, no doubt about it. But we have to look forward, right?”
“…”
Staring into her daughter’s eyes—strong and resolute, without the slightest trace of confusion or hesitation—Fang Wenyuan found herself utterly bewildered for a moment.
Wait a second… who’s the one comforting whom here?!
