It was a collection of meticulously hand-drawn jewellery designs—each piece so detailed, colourfull, so masterfully rendered, that they seemed to leap off the page. The lines were delicate yet confident, and each stroke carried with it a passion and precision that spoke of years of devotion.
The designs were like nothing she had seen before. They were far ahead of their time—timeless, elegant, and breathtaking.
Her fingers paused on the first design, every small detail was noted, including the material used to make the parts.
The first design was a pair of phoenix wing earrings, crafted in graceful arcs of platinum and ruby inlay. The wings flared outward like they were about to take flight, with each feather individually shaded and meticulously placed. Tiny dangling diamonds formed the tail, catching the light with imagined brilliance.
On the next page was a necklace inspired by the four seasons. A choker of white gold held four jadestone pendants—emerald for spring, iced for winter, yellow for summer, and lavender for autumn—each encased in delicate vines of precious metal. The centerpiece was a snowflake-shaped diamond brooch that could be detached and worn separately.
Another sketch displayed an elaborate bridal headpiece inspired by traditional Han-style crowns, reimagined with a modern twist. Interwoven chains of gold and silk, delicate peony motifs, and dangling pearls created a harmony of tradition and elegance. Hidden clasps made it transformable into a tiara or a necklace—ingenious and enchanting.
Further along, she discovered a jade cuff bracelet with an ethereal, almost mythical design. Carved dragon motifs spiraled around the bangle, their eyes set with blood-red rubies. The interplay of matte jade and polished obsidian gave it an ancient, powerful aura—as if it belonged to royalty of a forgotten dynasty.
Li Ziqing's hands trembled slightly as she turned the pages, each design more breathtaking than the last. It wasn't just art—it was craftsmanship, imagination, and soul woven together.
"Uncle…" she whispered, finally breaking the silence. "These are… divine. How could you keep something like this hidden for so long?"
Li Jianping looked away, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "I didn't think anyone would be interested. It's just a hobby, really."
"This is not a hobby," she said, her tone firm. "This is genius."
For a moment, the room fell into a tranquil silence, broken only by the soft rustle of pages turning and the quiet breath of wonder. Li Ziqing's fingers gently traced over the delicate pencil strokes and fine ink lines. The beauty of the designs left her momentarily speechless.
When she finally looked up, her eyes shimmered with pride and admiration—but the sight that greeted her made her smile fade. Tears were silently falling down Li Jianping's cheeks.
She immediately frowned and asked with concern, "Uncle, what's wrong?"
Li Jianping glanced at her, his voice unsteady. "A Qing… you don't think my interest is disgraceful, do you?"
Her expression softened at once, and she reached out to clasp his hand. "Uncle, why would you even think that? Your passion isn't disgraceful—it's a gift. Do you know how rare it is to be able to imagine and create such breathtaking designs? It's something to be celebrated."
He exhaled shakily and wiped the tears from his eyes, laughing bitterly. "Maybe… but your grandmother didn't see it that way. When I was in middle school, I was doing well academically. But one day, she found my sketchbook. She tore it apart in front of me and told me never to reveal that side of myself again. She said it would bring shame to the Li family. That men should either run businesses or become government officials. Designing jewelry—she said that was something only women should do."
Hearing this, Li Ziqing's expression darkened. Her hands balled into fists. "Utter nonsense," she snapped. "What does gender have to do with art or creativity? Design is about talent, imagination, and soul. And you have all three, Uncle. Don't let her words weigh you down."
She softened again and leaned forward with a warm smile. "Besides, now that we have money, we can open a store and workshop for you. You'll have your own studio, and the whole world will get to see your talent. Who knows—you might even make so much money that I'll end up living off you someday."
Li Jianping let out a heartfelt laugh, the heaviness in his chest slowly dissolving. Then, as if remembering something, he glanced over to the corner of the living room, where several raw stones sat untouched in a basket.
"A Qing," he asked suddenly, still smiling, "do you really think all five stones contain jade?"
She looked over and nodded with confidence. "Yes, I do. But let's not cut them just yet. It's better to let the storm from today settle down. If needed, we can buy our own tools and cut them ourselves later."
Just then, a thought struck Li Ziqing. She quickly reached into her canvas bag and, discreetly took out the envelope containing Property deeds and keys of Jiangshan road's store front. Without saying a word, she placed it gently on the table in front of Li Jianping.
She than told him everything, well except it was a gift from system. Infact she didn't say how she got the storefront. Just the fact that it used to be a high end restaurant and it's a diamond location property on Jiangshan road.
Li Jianping's eyes widened in disbelief as he picked up the envelope and examined its contents. His lips parted, trying to form words, but no sound came. After a few seconds, he finally stammered, "A Qing… but—"
Before he could finish, Li Ziqing raised a hand and cut him off with a mischievous smile. "No buts, Uncle. As for how I got it… well, that's a little secret of mine. Didn't you say you wouldn't pry?"
She leaned down slightly, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Now, since you're so good at handling things, I'll leave it to you to explain everything to Mom tomorrow—the two hundred million yuan... and this storefront."
Without giving him a chance to argue further, she slung her canvas bag over her shoulder, turned on her heel, and ran toward her room, her soft laughter echoing behind her.
Li Jianping remained seated in the living room, frozen, the property deeds and keys still in his hands. His expression was a mixture of awe, confusion, and disbelief—as if he'd just witnessed a miracle but hadn't yet found the words for it.
---
The living room was steeped in a heavy silence.
Li Jianfang and Li Zian sat as if rooted in place, their expressions frozen in disbelief. The air was thick with emotion—shock, confusion, awe. No one could quite wrap their heads around what had just happened.
Just days ago, they were scrounging to make ends meet, worrying about a few hundred yuan. And now... two hundred million?
Two hundred million yuan.
It sounded like a number from someone else's life. A fantasy. A dream. A cruel joke, maybe—but the official bank receipt resting on the coffee table said otherwise.
Li Jianfang hadn't said a word since she saw it. She sat quietly, her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes unfocused as if staring through time. Then, without warning, she rose stiffly to her feet and walked toward her room without saying a single word.
Her door clicked shut behind her.
The quiet grew heavier.
Li Zian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and finally broke the silence. "I… I don't know what to say." His voice was soft, cautious. "But Uncle… A Qing… Mom's really upset. I could feel it."
Li Ziqing let out a frustrated sigh, leaned back against the sofa, and buried her face in her hands. "Uncle, why did you take my name?" Her voice was muffled but hurt. "You knew Mom wouldn't accept me going to the gambling street. Not even if I went there to cut diamonds from air."
Li Jianping remained silent. He didn't offer an excuse. He couldn't. The truth was, he had never been able to lie to his sister—not once in his entire life. She was stern, proud, unyielding—but she was also family, and lying to her always felt like a betrayal.
Without saying anything, he rose from the sofa, straightened his shoulders, and quietly walked toward his sister's room.
The tension in the room shifted.
Li Ziqing and Li Zian watched as the door opened and shut behind him, and both were left in the living room—one stunned, the other anxious—bracing for whatever came next.
----
As soon as Li Jianping stepped into the room, he quietly closed the door behind him.
The late morning light streamed through the sheer curtains, casting delicate patterns on the floor. Li Jianfang sat in a worn wooden chair near the window, her back straight, arms resting loosely on her lap, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the horizon. She didn't turn when her brother entered. Her profile, lit in soft light, was calm—but Li Jianping could read the pain behind that stillness all too well.
He said nothing.
He didn't need to. He had known her long enough to understand that this silence wasn't coldness—it was guilt. A deep, festering guilt she had carried on her shoulders for years, wrapped around her ribs like wire, tightening with every heartbeat. He had seen her break down in the middle of the night, crying silently so her children wouldn't hear. He had watched her carry burdens no one ever should—alone. Always alone.
The seconds passed, then minutes. Neither of them moved. Until finally, after what felt like a lifetime, she spoke.
"Xiao Ping?"
Her voice was soft, yet heavy with something ancient—grief, perhaps. Or regret.
Li Jianping took a quiet step forward. "I'm here, sis."
She didn't look at him right away. Her eyes lingered on the sky, as if trying to draw strength from the clouds.
"Tell me honestly," she said slowly, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "Did I fail… as a mother?"
Li Jianping's throat tightened. He had expected many things—but not that.
He clenched his fists and exhaled sharply, trying to steady the storm in his chest. "Why would you even say that?"
She finally turned to face him. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and when she blinked, they rolled silently down her cheeks.
"You know," she began, her voice cracking like old paper, "when a woman becomes a mother… it's like a rebirth. You begin to feel life inside you, bit by bit, and as it grows, you start to dream—not just for yourself, but for them. You imagine their first steps, their first words… their first day of school. You imagine the day they'll find their passion, their career, their partner in life. You imagine their joy, their struggles. Everything."
She smiled bitterly.
"I had those dreams too. I used to stay up at night, just imagining what kind of people my children would become. But reality didn't go the way I imagined."
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"I lost my way the moment I found myself in the labor room… alone. That was the first time I failed. I was crying—not out of pain, but out of fear. I didn't know how to be a mother. I didn't know how to raise children, I couldn't even protect...." she abruptly stopped, her eyes turned red as the memories passed through her eyes.
She wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her blouse, her eyes distant again.
"After I recovered, I couldn't even figure out how to feed them properly. I was too busy falling apart over a man who never looked back. That was my second failure. And by the time I gathered the courage to stand back up… they were already walking, already growing, already learning how to live—without me."
Li Jianping's jaw clenched. He wanted to speak, to console her, but something about the weight in her voice held him still.
"And now," she continued softly, "my son works shifts in an internet café. He skipped two grades, not because he was chasing knowledge, but because he was chasing a paycheck, he wants to enter university as soon as possible. And my daughter… my little A Qing… learned to cook in secret. Helping me earn money. Encouraging me to open a business. It's as if they've taken the roles I was supposed to fill for them."
She inhaled deeply, her voice a mere breath. "Xiao Ping… sometimes I feel like I'm the biggest obstacle in their lives. Like I'm the stone that keeps them trapped underwater… never letting them surface."
That was enough.
Li Jianping moved forward suddenly, kneeling beside her chair and gripping her hand tightly. "Stop it," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Don't say things like that. You have no idea how much your children love you. You're their world, Jie. They would move mountains for you. And you think they see you as a burden?"
She didn't respond. She only looked at him with tired eyes.
Then, after a pause, she whispered, "Xiao Ping… do you think A Qing is becoming like him?"
His breath caught in his throat. His heart dropped.
She continued, her voice trembling, "The moment she talked about starting her own company, something inside me shifted. There's this ambition in her eyes now. A decisiveness. She's planning every move with such composure, such calculation… it scares me. What if… one day, she comes across him? Or worse, his family?"
Li Jianping stood slowly, his brows drawn tight, hands clenched at his sides. The rage he always kept buried surged to the surface.
Li Jianping's hands clenched into tight fists.
His voice was low but sharp, each word carrying the weight of years spent swallowing anger. "So you want her to stay hidden forever? To live in the shadows for the rest of her life? Struggle at the bottom, suffering, scraping by—just so she never crosses paths with that man?"
He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor with a jarring screech.
"Sis, his eldest son is only a month younger than A Qing and AnAn. Fourteen years—fourteen years—and not once has he come looking for the children. Not a single message, not even a word. If he never cared, then why do you still think about him? Why do you still let him rule your life like this?"
He paused, breathing heavily, his face flushed with frustration.
But before he could continue, his sister's voice cut through the air—sharp and brittle.
"I'm not thinking about him!" she snapped, standing up so suddenly that the chair beneath her teetered. "I'm thinking about my children!"
Her voice cracked, trembling with an emotion so raw it startled him into silence.
"You don't know what kind of family he comes from. You don't know what they're capable of." Her chest heaved with each breath, her eyes wide, haunted. "If A Qing ever becomes successful—if she ever attracts attention—do you know what those people will do to her?"
She staggered back a step, her knees threatening to buckle as memories came rushing back in brutal clarity. "You weren't there, Xiao Ping. You weren't in the hospital. You didn't see what I saw. You didn't live through it."
She was gasping now, her breathing shallow and fast. Sweat dotted her forehead, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her eyes were vacant, glassy—lost in another time, another place.
A bloodied photograph.
A small, severed finger placed in a red envelope.
A threat she could never forget.
A message that shattered the last remnants of her trust.
Li Jianping had turned his back by then, too consumed by his own fury to notice her slipping into a panic attack.
"That's exactly why I want A Qing to rise!" he said through clenched teeth. "That's why I want all of us—you, me, AnAn—to get stronger. If we continue hiding like this, we'll always be insects beneath their shoes. And the day we even bother them, they'll squash us like ants without hesitation."
His words echoed in the room like cracks of thunder.
And then, without looking back, he stormed out. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound shattering the fragile silence.
Li Jianfang stood frozen for a second—then collapsed to the floor.
Her body trembled violently, her arms wrapped around herself as if to hold herself together. A sob escaped her lips, and then another, and then they came in waves. Loud, broken, and unrelenting.
She pressed her palm against her mouth to stifle her cries, but it was no use. Years of fear, guilt, and shame came crashing down like a tidal wave.
"I couldn't protect him…" she whispered through her sobs. "You don't understand, Xiao Ping. You weren't there. I was alone… all alone…"
Her voice dissolved into a pitiful whisper.
"I begged them not to hurt him…"
Tears streamed down her face, pooling on the floor as she rocked back and forth, drowning in the torment she had buried for over a decade.