The office fell back into a heavy silence. Sheng Guangwen remained still for a long time. Sunlight streamed through the window behind him, casting his face into deep shadow while a halo of gold traced the silhouette of his body.
A single tear hit the paper, blooming into a damp stain. Then, he began to laugh—a sound that shook away the layers of dust and bitterness that had settled in his chest for years.
It was as if two hearts, which had fallen silent fifteen years ago, only began to beat again today.
Sheng Guangwen’s tears seemed unstoppable. For years, the crushing weight of guilt toward both Manwen and Panchun had paralyzed him. Looking into Ning Panchun’s lifeless eyes, he could only desperately numb himself by showering her with material wealth, hoping to mask the hollow silence in her gaze.
He leaned back, covering his eyes with one hand as the past flashed before him like a spinning lantern.
He remembered Zhao Manwen’s indignant and sorrowful departure. He remembered Ning Panchun shifting from desperate explanations to a deathly stillness, leaving only silent tears. Even after their marriage, Panchun had remained dignified and gentle; she understood his suffering and would quietly comfort him, whispering, “Everything will pass. We’ll get through this.”
They were like two blocks of ice huddling together for warmth, only succeeding in making each other colder. Guangwen had even hated himself for not being able to fall in love with her; perhaps then, he could have treated this innocent, pitiful woman with more sincerity.
But whenever he thought of the person truly in his heart, guilt flooded him like a rising tide. He viewed himself as the villain of this tragedy—powerless to help the lover who left in pain, and perpetually indebted to the gentle, virtuous partner by his side. Two such wonderful women deserved to spend their lives with someone who truly loved them.
A mistaken marriage had trapped four young lives.
“And after my mom left, did she find that Alpha?” Sheng Mian asked, her heart aching. Four people had wasted fifteen years atoning for a cosmic joke.
“Your mother.” Zhao Manwen began to choke up, brushing away her tears. “There was an issue with her flight. The entire plane crashed into the sea.”
A drop of liquid landed on Sheng Mian’s hand. It was her own tear.
Out of love for her child, Ning Panchun had endured fifteen years of malicious gossip. The life she was supposed to start in her twenties had reached its final curtain call prematurely.
How much excitement, freedom, and courage must she have felt as she bid farewell to the mistakes of the past only to be buried in the ocean, never to see the light of day again?
“Sheng Guangwen found me two months after their divorce. Perhaps inspired by your mother, he realized half his life had already been squandered. At the time, I was a divorcee raising the twelve-year-old Yichen. It wasn’t until a month later that we heard the news about your mother. You used to think Guangwen and I had a long-term affair that drove her to her death, that’s why you were so biased against us.”
Sheng Mian felt an overwhelming pang of sympathy for this biological mother she never knew. Had the three months she spent “missing” actually been spent working to save up for travel and living expenses?
“Did you ever try to tell me this before?” Sheng Mian asked, using a tissue to wipe Zhao Manwen’s tears.
“We never really had the chance to sit down like this. Before I knew the truth, I harbored my own resentment toward your mother. That’s why I accepted everything you did to me, I saw it as punishment for my own past malice. Your mother was truly a brave, gentle woman who loved you very much.” Zhao Manwen sobbed, clutching Sheng Mian’s hand.
A moment later, Zhao Manwen was pulled into a small but warm embrace.
The breeze ruffled the green-patterned curtains, making the papers on the desk rustle. On one sheet, the first line was visible: “Sheng Mian, Hello!”
A slender, pale hand closed the notebook. ‘I hope Sheng Mian understands us when she sees this,’ she thought, tucking the notebook into a drawer.
As night fell, Zhao Manwen lay on the bed reading. She looked at Sheng Guangwen as he emerged from the bathroom and said, “I told Mianmian about her mother today.”
Guangwen paused. “Why the sudden mention? How did she react?”
Zhao Manwen’s gaze grew soft and distant. “She said she felt sorry for us. She said none of us were at fault.”
This was not the answer he expected. He sighed. “The girl has changed. Her personality is nothing like before. I just wonder once her memory returns, will she go back to blaming us?”
Zhao Manwen patted his hand gently. “Mianmian is a good girl. She’ll understand. Let’s sleep.”
The next morning, Zhao Manwen’s eyes were swollen. Sheng Yichen knew that look well; his mother’s eyes always looked like that after she had been crying.
“What happened, Mom?” Yichen’s tone was sharp and serious.
Zhao Manwen just kept insisting she was fine.
Yichen slipped away to question the nanny and learned that Sheng Mian had been in his mother’s room the night before. A surge of anger and a sense of betrayal washed over him. He stormed toward Sheng Mian’s room.
I knew it! The memory loss, the kindness—it was all an act!
Sheng Mian was startled by the door swinging open. “What are you doing? You scared me!”
Yichen’s eyes were red with fury as he confronted her. “You went to Mom’s room last night?”
Sheng Mian nodded, confused.
“What did you say to her? Why are her eyes so swollen this morning!” Yichen clenched his fists. He thought she had really changed; he thought their relationship was finally mending. Why did she have to start mistreating his mother again?
He hated that he had actually started to like her. He had even fantasized about them living together as a real family.
“I didn’t say anything bad. Ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”
Yichen let out a cynical laugh. His mother always covered for Sheng Mian because she didn’t want him to worry. Asking her would change nothing.
He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “I told you before: if you trouble my mother again, I won’t let it slide.”
“What is all this shouting about?” Zhao Manwen hurried in, finding her son glaring down at Sheng Mian in a rage.
She pulled him away and scolded him, “Why are you losing your temper with your sister!”
Raising her voice made her throat feel dry and itchy, and she broke into a fit of coughing. Yichen immediately patted her back to help her catch her breath, his anger half-dissipated, though he still remained stubborn. “Your eyes are red.
You were clearly crying last night, and she was in your room.”
“Mom, did she bully you again?” Yichen asked, trying to stand up for her.
“No! Mianmian and I were just talking.”
“Talking? How do you talk yourself into a crying fit?”
Sheng Mian was speechless with frustration. “We were just being emotional! You came in here to play the judge without even knowing the facts?”
Yichen’s face turned bright red as he realized he had been too impulsive. He couldn’t meet Sheng Mian’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered sheepishly. “I was just, I wasn’t thinking.”
He barely remembered how he got back to his room; his head felt heavy and swollen with embarrassment.
That evening, he knocked tentatively on her door and walked in carrying a plate of sliced fruit.
Sheng Mian glanced at him. Ah, the classic ‘peace offering.’ She looked back at her work, pretending she hadn’t seen him.
Sheng Yichen pulled a chair up to the bedside and held the fruit platter with both hands like a solemn offering. “Have some fruit. I washed and sliced everything myself.”
“Is it poisoned?” Sheng Mian poked at him, her tone intentionally sharp.
Yichen just gave a goofy, sheepish grin. Filled with apology, he speared a piece of fruit and held it up to her lips. “No poison, I promise. No poison.”
Sheng Mian continued scrolling through short videos and took a bite. It was perfectly sweet.
And so, it went—one feeding, the other eating. Every time Sheng Mian finished a piece, a new one was already waiting. Since Yichen was so determined to atone for his blunder, Sheng Mian decided to simply enjoy the service; opportunities like this didn’t come often.
Not only was he quick with the fork, but he even held out a tissue to catch the seeds before tossing them into the trash.
“I was reckless today,” Yichen muttered, his face clouded with regret. “I shouldn’t have misunderstood you without getting the facts straight.”
Looking at his remorseful expression, Sheng Mian realized she wasn’t actually angry anymore. “I know. You just care about your mom a lot.”
She looked him in the eye. “I can promise you this: as long as I don’t have my memories back, things in this house will stay peaceful.” Her tone then shifted slightly. “But once they do return, I can’t make any guarantees. Do you understand?”
Yichen looked at her. It was the same face he had known for years, but the personality was so vastly different that it gave him a jarring sense of cognitive dissonance.
Halfway through the platter, Sheng Mian was full. She shooed Yichen out and settled in to sleep.
Monday morning, the sports coordinator announced some exciting news: “Sports meet is this Thursday! Give me your names for the events you want to enter by Wednesday.”
A swarm of students immediately crowded around him.
Within a single class period, most of the slots were filled. Sheng Mian didn’t sign up for anything; she wasn’t exactly the athletic type.
“We still need one person for the Omega high jump and one more for the 400-meter relay,” the coordinator announced, circling the room like a salesman and cornering every Omega he could find.
“I’ll do the high jump.” Everyone turned to see Yi Chi timidly raising her hand.
The coordinator scribbled her name down instantly, terrified she might change her mind.
Sheng Mian was impressed. “Wow! You can do the high jump? That’s amazing!”
Yi Chi gave an embarrassed smile. “Not really, I just wanted to give it a try.”
“400-meter relay!” the coordinator bellowed, his eyes locking onto Sheng Mian. “Sheng Mian, how about the relay? You’ve got short legs, they’ll move faster!”
The classroom erupted in laughter, with Qin Heng laughing particularly loud.
Sheng Mian’s ears turned bright red. “My legs are not short!” At 160 cm, how short could they really be?
The coordinator walked over and leaned on her desk, his expression pitiful. “Please, Sheng Mian. Just sign up. There’s literally nobody else left.”
Sheng Mian looked torn. “But I’m not a fast runner.”
Hearing that, the coordinator knew he had a chance. “Speed doesn’t matter! We just need a body on the track.”
Sheng Mian hesitated but finally gave in. “Fine.”
The coordinator sprinted off to submit the form before she could retract.
Thursday morning arrived. Everyone’s backpacks were bursting with snacks and drinks. The class moved in a line, each student carrying their own chair to their designated area on the field.
The sun was out in full force. A few Alphas set up a canopy, providing an instant refuge from the heat. Someone had brought face paint, and several students were already decorated with colorful patterns. The middle school division next door was holding their sports meet simultaneously, and the combined noise of the two crowds was thunderous.
After enduring the tedious speeches from the school board, the games officially began. Sheng Mian pulled out several bags of snacks and began sharing them with her classmates.
“Yi Chi, is the high jump in the morning or the afternoon?”
“Afternoon.”
The loudspeaker crackled to life: “Will all Alphas for the 1000-meter run please report to the marshalling area.”
Qin Heng pinned on his race number. “I’m off. Get ready to witness my glory on the track.”
“Good luck!” Sheng Mian cheered.
Qin Heng was in the second heat. At the sound of the starter pistol, the Alphas shot off like arrows from a bow.
When Qin Heng neared their class section, Sheng Mian and Yi Chi stood up, holding hands and screaming at the top of their lungs: “Go Qin Heng! Go Qin Heng!”
Shen Zhilin sat up straighter to watch the race. She held a plastic noisemaker Sheng Mian had pressed into her hand earlier, subconsciously shaking it until it let out a series of sharp claps.
In the back row, a few Alphas unfurled a banner that read: “Qin Heng, Qin Heng, You Are Eternal.” They roared the slogan at the top of their voices.