Jiang Yining accepted the transfer almost instantly.
When she opened her contact list and saw the name “Mom” sitting there beside Auntie Chen, a quiet warmth spread through her chest.
Before she could even process it, a bright red packet popped up on the screen.
5,000 yuan.
Her fingers moved faster than her thoughts. She tapped to receive it, then quickly sent back a playful sticker of a girl kneeling in exaggerated gratitude.
“Thank you, dearest Mom! Love you, muah!”
On the other end, Mother Jiang watched the message and shook her head with a helpless smile. Her eyes, however, grew warm.
On impulse, she tapped the video call button.
She wanted to see her daughter.
Even if it was only through a screen.
Just as Jiang Yining was about to press “Accept,” the phone froze.
The screen hung for a second.
Then it went completely black.
It had crashed.
She stared at it in disbelief, then tapped the useless device in frustration.
“Seriously? Now of all times… just wait, the first thing I’m doing when Mom gets here is replacing you.”
Meanwhile, Mother Jiang looked at the “No Answer” notification.
A tiny sliver of doubt crept back in.
It all felt too perfect.
Too unreal.
But the thought of seeing her daughter in person the next day quickly pushed that doubt aside.
She set her phone down and, for the first time in eight years, fell into a peaceful, expectant sleep.
…
The next morning.
H City Airport.
Mother Jiang pulled her small suitcase behind her as she walked quickly out of the arrivals hall.
She waved down a taxi.
“Driver, 369 Guangming Road, please.”
Not far behind her, Father Jiang, wearing a cap and a mask, slipped into another car.
“Follow that taxi,” he said quietly. “Don’t lose it.”
The cars moved through the busy city streets.
As they got closer, Mother Jiang’s heartbeat quickened. Her palms grew damp.
Half an hour later, the taxi stopped on a quiet street corner.
“We’re here. 369 Guangming Road, Lemon Whisper Florals,” the driver said, gesturing ahead.
Mother Jiang paid and stepped out.
She stood on the sidewalk, her eyes searching anxiously.
Sunlight bathed the street in a warm glow.
And there it was.
A small flower shop on the corner.
The wooden sign read clearly: Lemon Whisper Florals.
The door was closed.
A small wooden sign hung in the window.
Closed for Three Days.
Her heart tightened.
This was it.
Her Ningning was here.
A sudden wave of nervousness washed over her, like returning home after a long absence.
Her fingers trembled as she took out her phone and dialed.
The moment the call connected, she held her breath and looked up toward the second floor.
“Mom, I’m here!”
A clear, bright voice rang out.
Full of joy.
Full of longing.
Mother Jiang’s head snapped up.
The small attic window had been pushed open.
A girl leaned out, waving excitedly.
She wore soft apricot colored loungewear. Sunlight poured over her, outlining her figure in a gentle glow.
That face.
Fair skin.
A delicate nose.
And those eyes, clear and bright, slightly downturned at the corners.
If this wasn’t her Ningning…
Then who was?
The childish softness of youth was gone, replaced by a quiet maturity, a strength shaped by years of independence.
But the soul in those eyes.
The warmth in that smile.
It was unmistakable.
Something etched deep into her bones.
Something no imitation could ever replicate.
“Ningning… my Ningning…”
Mother Jiang broke down instantly.
Tears blurred her vision as she looked up, unwilling to blink, as if afraid the image would disappear.
She drank in the sight of her daughter, trying to make up for eight lost years in a single moment.
From above, Jiang Yining saw it too.
The tears in her mother’s eyes, shimmering in the sunlight like shattered glass.
And the streaks of silver in her hair.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Those strands were the mark of eight years of grief.
Eight years of longing.
Just as mother and daughter were locked in that silent, tearful gaze—
A figure suddenly rushed out from behind a nearby tree.
Like a man struck by lightning.
It was Father Jiang.
He tore off his mask, his face filled with shock and disbelief.
He pointed at the girl in the window, his voice hoarse as he demanded,
“Who is she? Ahui, what is going on? Who is this girl? Tell me, did someone find her on purpose to… to…”
The words caught in his throat.
He couldn’t say it.
Couldn’t bring himself to say “made her look like Ningning.”
The thought alone was too cruel.
Too unbearable.
He was terrified.
Terrified that this was some elaborate scam, preying on his wife’s fragile heart.
Mother Jiang startled at his sudden appearance, but when she saw the pain and suspicion in his eyes, she turned sharply.
She stepped forward, spreading her arms as if shielding the flower shop behind her.
“Old Jiang, what are you saying?”
Her voice trembled with emotion.
“This is Ningning! Our daughter is back! Look carefully, she is Ningning!”
“Absurd!”
Father Jiang’s voice rose sharply.
Grief and anger stripped away his restraint.
“Ningning has been gone for eight years! Ahui, wake up. This is impossible. This has to be a scam!”
Upstairs, Jiang Yining watched her parents argue.
Hearing her father’s voice, filled with pain, suspicion, and fear—
Felt like a knife twisting deep in her heart.