She was calm.
Unexpectedly calm.
There wasn’t a trace of shock at learning the truth. She looked like an outsider, indifferent and detached as she faced everything that had once happened.
“Little Ru?” Han Qishan murmured absentmindedly.
Han Shen’s eyes also showed worry.
Madam Shi looked at her daughter, and in a daze, as if realizing something, a deeper sorrow surged in her eyes—guilt and remorse threatening to drown her.
“Ah Zhi…” Qin Yuancheng spoke, his voice heavy with concern.
“It’s my fault… I’ve wronged Little Ru… it’s all my fault…”
“It’s not your fault. Little Ru wouldn’t blame you.”
“That’s right,” Madam Shi fixed her gaze, took a deep breath, “It wasn’t me who was wrong—it was him.”
Han Qishan staggered.
Just then, the silent Han Yunru suddenly raised her head.
“What’s the point?” she asked.
Everyone froze—including Jiang Da and Jiang Fuyue.
That cold, indifferent tone was worlds apart from her usual gentle self.
“After twenty years, what’s the point of saying all this now?” Han Yunru’s voice was rational, even more than they expected.
But beneath that calm lay a coldness as unyielding as ice.
“Little Ru, you…” Han Qishan trembled all over, “You didn’t lose your memory, did you?”
“I did. But I remembered again.”
Han Shen: “When?”
Han Yunru: “Half a year ago.”
“Then why didn’t you come ba—” …ck to find us?
He stopped halfway. The rest was too hard to say.
If, back then, Little Ru’s disappearance really was caused by Ji Lanyue and her daughter…
Then why should Little Ru return?
What right did this family have to welcome her back?
Han Shen felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head—freezing him to the bone.
“So,” he gritted his teeth, each word forced through clenched jaws, “What exactly happened back then? Why did Little Ru disappear?”
His father couldn’t be trusted—Han Qishan had been in the middle of it all, and had lied before.
His mother—Madam Shi—could only piece things together with conjecture, inevitably biased and incomplete.
So the one most qualified to speak was—
“I’ll tell it,” Han Yunru said, lips curving slightly.
The story was full of drama, like something straight out of a primetime soap opera.
Han Qishan and Shi Qingzhi had been childhood sweethearts. Naturally, they ended up together. In elite families like the Han and Shi clans, a marriage based on true affection was rare—like panning for gold in sand.
After they married, they indeed enjoyed a few sweet, loving years and had three sons and a daughter.
The Han family followed the traditional model: the man worked outside, the woman took care of the home.
Han Qishan was always busy with business, often away on trips that lasted weeks. Still, he called regularly to check on his wife and children.
Shi Qingzhi, born the beloved daughter of the Shi family, never had to worry about food or clothing. She grew up pampered, yet never spoiled. Her greatest passion was learning.
As a child, she studied music, dance, chess, table tennis, volleyball…
Even the massive pipe organ was something she could master with ease.
Her music teacher once said: “She alone is an entire orchestra.”
Once in primary school, Shi Qingzhi became obsessed—not with studying itself, but with perfect scores.
Yes, not learning—scores. She saw studying only as a means to reach those scores.
Any test paper that wasn’t perfect ended up in the trash.
In secondary school, she gained the nickname “Exam Goddess.” Word spread throughout the city’s elite circles.
Of course, some dismissed her: “It’s just middle school—how impressive can it be?”
But day by day, Shi Qingzhi kept proving herself.
She scored the highest in the city on the college entrance exam and was admitted to Q University’s business school.
After half a semester, she switched to the physics department, deciding there were too few exams and too many papers in business. There, she happily returned to collecting top marks.
Her research ability wasn’t the best in her department, but when it came to exams—no one could beat her.
After undergrad, she was recommended straight into grad school, then on to her PhD.
Along the way, she married and had children.
To support the family, she gave up on starting her own business and stayed at Q University to teach, becoming the woman behind Han Qishan.
With such achievements and a family like this, calling Shi Qingzhi a “favored daughter of heaven” was no exaggeration.
Everyone thought her good fortune and wisdom would carry over into her marriage and last until old age.
But Han Qishan… turned out to be the variable.
Maybe their happy days had gotten dull. Maybe even the most beautiful person gets tiring.
Maybe it was just a moment of weakness? A drunken mistake?
Regardless—Han Qishan cheated.
And it happened while Shi Qingzhi was pregnant with Han Yunru.
The result? Han Yunru and the illegitimate daughter were born less than three months apart.
When Han Yunru grew up and fell in love with Qin Lin, the young heir of the Qin family, Shi Qingzhi finally discovered the affair.
That day, she had just finished teaching and, on a whim, opened their long-unused mailbox—only to find a set of disgusting photos.
At first, she didn’t even suspect her husband. She thought it might be blackmail or sabotage.
She had the photos tested—no Photoshop. Real photos. Real affair.
And the envelope had been in the box for half a year. If she hadn’t opened it, she’d still be in the dark.
Shi Qingzhi didn’t avoid confrontation. That night, she confronted Han Qishan.
The man panicked, dropped to his knees, and begged for forgiveness.
“I swear, it only happened twice. Once, I was drunk on a trip. The second time, I walked into the wrong hotel room. After that, I cut all ties with her. I haven’t contacted her in over ten years. I don’t know why she suddenly showed up now…”
Shi Qingzhi didn’t just believe his words. She investigated and found the woman had indeed disappeared for over ten years.
Plus, Han Qishan’s tearful apologies—the once-proud man now so pitiful—moved her.
In the end, she forgave him.
Not just because he begged, but because of the three sons and her daughter, who was about to get engaged.
A public scandal would only humiliate the Han family.
So she chose to stay.
Ji Lanyue had taken a big risk to scheme this whole thing, hoping Shi Qingzhi would divorce. But instead, Han Qishan became more cautious.
Furious, but unable to go against Han Qishan, Ji Lanyue directed her hate toward Shi Qingzhi.
Like a cockroach hiding in a damp corner, she watched Shi Qingzhi’s shining life with twisted envy.
If they divorced, that honor would be hers, right?
After all, she had given Han Qishan a daughter too…
Han Qishan loved Han Yunru so much—surely he’d love her daughter Xinxin just as much…
These delusions gnawed at Ji Lanyue until, finally, the day of Han Yunru’s engagement came. She saw her chance…
Han Shen: “What did that woman say to you?”
Han Yunru replied evenly: “She found me in the dressing room. She showed me a photo and said it was my real sister—Dad’s daughter. After Mom and Dad divorced, she and her daughter would move into the Han family. I’d have to call her Auntie. Or even better—Mom.”
After so many years, those words remained burned into Han Yunru’s memory.
What’s laughable is that when her memories returned, the first thing she recalled wasn’t anyone else—but Ji Lanyue’s smug face.
Back then, Han Yunru had grown up in a loving home, spoiled and adored. Her fiancé loved her deeply.
She’d never seen the filth of the world.
But Ji Lanyue laid it bare before her—disgusting and cruel. And in that moment, her world collapsed.
Ji Lanyue also said Han Qishan was in the garden chatting with Ji Xinxin. Father and daughter, all warm and close.
Han Yunru had rushed to the garden, wanting to confront her father on the spot.
But the garden was empty. No one was there.
She calmed herself and turned back to the dressing room to tell her mother everything. But the moment she turned—something struck the back of her head.
She remembered nothing after that.
When she awoke, she was in a cramped, suffocating van—about to be sold by human traffickers.
Han Qishan, hearing this, clutched his chest in agony. His breathing turned rough and erratic.
“Human… traffickers?”
