Chapter 004: You’ve Got the Wrong Person

Huai'an Hospital, Director's Office.

He Yunqing stood tall and silent by the window, his gaze fixed on the distant, withered phoenix tree.

"Last year it looked dead, but somehow this year it came back to life," said the hospital director, He Huaian, not looking up from the medical files he was perusing with his glasses on.

"For you, does it really matter if it's alive or dead?" He Yunqing mused.

He Huaian paused for a moment, finger lingering on the file, then continued reading as if nothing had happened. "You don't come to the hospital often."

"I'm in good health. Why should I come to the hospital?" He Yunqing replied coolly.

"So, do you plan to talk to me in this tone for the rest of your life?" He Huaian put down the file and looked up. "Yunqing, I admit, I wronged you and your mother back then..."

"Let’s not talk about the past," He Yunqing cut him off, his voice cold.

He hated hearing his mother’s name from He Huaian’s lips.

He Huaian sighed. "Very well. About that child you mentioned, I can help you apply for the Tianya Medical Assistance Fund. Strictly by age, he’s a year over the limit, but the foundation was established to help gravely ill children and adolescents from families in financial difficulty. Rules are rigid, but in principle, an exception isn’t out of the question."

He Yunqing gave a polite but distant nod.

"But who is this child, that you’d go out of your way for him?" He Huaian asked.

"A stranger," He Yunqing replied.

"Oh?" He Huaian looked at his son in surprise. "Since when do you take an interest in these matters? The night nurse said you were here last night with a young woman?"

At the mention of Jiang Yao, He Yunqing’s lashes lowered slightly, his clear eyes shadowed with unreadable emotion.

Last night, the look of terror in Jiang Yao’s eyes as she faced him—it was a look he had seen before.

Ten years ago, after a blow to the back of his head, his memory had become fragmented and vague. He only remembered that, ten years ago, someone once looked at him with that same desperate, helpless gaze.

That one look was enough. For ten years, every night in his dreams, endless guilt surged within him.

A person's memory can vanish, but the feeling of remorse remains, and that is the greatest torment of all.

He desperately wanted to reclaim those lost memories.

"If you like, bring her home sometime," He Huaian said, seeing his son silent. "It’s been a long time since you’ve joined us for dinner. Come back tonight. Uncle Jin and his family will be there too."

He Yunqing pulled himself back from his thoughts. "I have a dinner engagement tonight."

Turning back, he noticed that there was now someone sitting on the bench beneath the phoenix tree...

Jiang Yao had been chased out of the ward again.

Aunt Qin had thrown a stack of money in a brown envelope at her, scolding her in the same tone as years before, "Get out! Take your dirty money! We’d rather die than accept anything from you!"

She left, but she couldn’t truly walk away.

Upon her shoulders rested all the responsibilities left by someone who was already gone.

Aunt Qin’s hatred was understandable.

Jiang Yao sat on the bench, her back lightly leaning against the great tree, watching the golden leaves flutter and fall. She gently caressed the black wallet in her hands.

Once, Aunt Qin would smile at her, slip handmade piglet buns into her schoolbag, pat her head and praise her for being a good child.

Now, in Aunt Qin’s eyes, she was no longer that good child.

No, she was no longer a child at all.

Jiang Yao sniffed quietly—she could not cry.

Life was long, and there was much more she would have to face. How could she break down over something like this?

Her phone vibrated. It was Ye Yiyi calling.

Jiang Yao composed herself and answered as if nothing had happened. "What is it?"

"Yao, you have to save me," Ye Yiyi whined. "There’s a dinner party tonight, lots of directors and producers will be there. I wanted to try my luck, maybe get cast for a new role. But the makeup artist I booked ages ago just canceled on me. You know how hopeless I am with a makeup brush!"

Ye Yiyi, a beauty who could never master makeup.

Jiang Yao, an unwilling genius at it.

"Alright, where are you?" Jiang Yao glanced at the time—three in the afternoon.

"It’s too late, I have an audition! Let’s meet at the dinner venue. I’ll text you the time and place." Even through the phone, Ye Yiyi’s smile was radiant. "Love you!"

The call came in a whirlwind and ended just as swiftly.

A fine drizzle began to fall from the sky.

Jiang Yao had no umbrella.

She hung up, stepped onto the thin layer of fallen leaves, and walked back through the rain.

Perhaps she was lost in thought, for she didn’t even notice the cleaning lady pushing a trash cart until they gently bumped into each other.

"Sorry," Jiang Yao quickly apologized, reaching out to steady the woman.

The cleaning lady kept her head down, said nothing, nodded, and walked away.

Jiang Yao frowned, unable to shake the strange sense of familiarity the woman gave her.

It was as if she had seen her somewhere before, but she couldn’t recall where.

She gave her head a little shake, telling herself she was imagining things, and when she looked up, she saw He Yunqing standing quietly not far away.

He too had no umbrella, dressed in a crisp white shirt, tall and slender, melding with the swirling leaves and falling rain like a scene out of an old photograph.

His quiet demeanor appeared even colder and more distant in the rain.

Jiang Yao met his gaze. "What a coincidence."

"I have something to ask you," He Yunqing said calmly.

"What is it?"

Before she could finish, the cleaning lady, who had already walked some distance away, doubled back.

She approached Jiang Yao, her voice trembling as she asked softly, "Excuse me, is your surname Jiang?"

Jiang Yao’s body tensed involuntarily, a sour ache rising in her nose. Slowly, and most unwillingly, she turned to look at the cleaning lady.

The woman was about sixty, her back slightly hunched, her body frail, her cheeks sunken and marked by age spots. Yet it was clear that she had once been beautiful.

As Jiang Yao studied her, the woman was examining her in turn, eyes brimming with barely contained excitement.

"Are you Jiang Xiaoqing?" the woman pressed urgently when Jiang Yao didn’t answer.

Jiang Xiaoqing—a name no one had called her in a very, very long time.

Jiang Yao choked a little. "No, you’re mistaken. My name is Jiang Yao."