Today, the filming schedule required no scenes from "Qiao Fei." To keep the Qiao family from growing suspicious, Ye Xiaoxiao maintained her usual routine. As always, Qiao's third brother personally drove her to the set, offering a constant stream of concerned reminders to rest. Sitting in the passenger seat, Xiaoxiao's palms were slick with sweat; she could do nothing but force a smile and nod in agreement.
The moment the car pulled up at the studio gates, she waved goodbye with practiced composure. She waited until the conspicuous luxury vehicle had vanished around the corner before spinning around to hail a taxi, reciting the address burned into her memory.
For this mission, she had chosen a plain, unassuming outfit, deliberately avoiding the flamboyant wardrobe of the Qiao family. As the taxi traversed the bustling city center, the scenery gradually shifted—the buildings grew older, the streets more cramped—until finally, the car stopped before a dilapidated apartment complex in the Old District.
The Narrow Corridor of the Old District
The hallway still carried that lingering, inescapable scent of cooking oil and dampness. Standing before her own familiar front door, Xiaoxiao's heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Her fingers trembled as she pressed the doorbell.
Once. Twice. Silence reigned inside.
"Is no one home?" she murmured to herself, her nose prickling with unshed tears. Just as she began to panic, the heavy thud of footsteps echoed from the stairwell.
It was Mrs. Li, the neighbor.
Normally, Mrs. Li would be knocking on this very door to invite Xiaoxiao's mother to the morning market or to go dancing at the park. Xiaoxiao instinctively started to call out "Auntie," but the word died in her throat the moment their eyes met.
Mrs. Li halted, eyeing the young woman with deep suspicion. Despite the simple clothes, the girl's extraordinary grace and exquisite features were utterly discordant with the grime of the old apartment.
"Miss, who are you looking for?" Mrs. Li asked, her tone guarded.
"I..." Xiaoxiao's throat tightened. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she forced them back. "I'm a friend of Xiaoxiao's. I came to see them, but they don't seem to be in."
"Xiaoxiao's friend?" Mrs. Li's suspicion didn't fade; it deepened. "I've never heard of her having a friend like you..."
"Tell her you just returned from abroad," Qiao Fei's calm voice vibrated in her ear, acting like an invisible hand steadying her frantic nerves.
Xiaoxiao took a deep breath and squeezed out a strained smile. "I've just returned from overseas. I haven't had the chance to contact her yet. May I ask where they are?"
"Oh, from abroad, I see." Mrs. Li's expression softened slightly, only to be replaced by a shadow of grief. "Ah, it's no wonder you don't know. That poor child... I don't know what happened, but she collapsed a month ago and hasn't woken up since. She's still in the hospital. Poor Sister Ye has been staying by her side; she's lost so much weight, she's practically a shadow of herself."
The world seemed to explode in a deafening roar of white noise. Xiaoxiao felt a violent ringing in her ears; her knees buckled.
The other "her" hadn't woken up?
"Auntie... do you know which hospital?" Her voice shook uncontrollably.
"The Third Municipal Hospital, I believe."
"Thank you, Auntie! Thank you so much!"
Forgetting all etiquette, Xiaoxiao turned and bolted down the stairs.
"Calm down. Don't run—these heels are easy to trip in," Qiao Fei reminded her from behind. Her tone remained detached, yet she followed closely. "Now that we have the location, we go there immediately."
Municipal Third Hospital · Private Ward
The hospital corridors were saturated with the sharp, clinical sting of disinfectant—cold and oppressive. Xiaoxiao's (in Qiao Fei's body) pace was hurried, the rhythmic click of her heels against the tiles sounding jarringly loud in the quiet afternoon.
She came to a dead stop outside the ward door. Through the small rectangular window, she saw it.
Lying on the bed, obscured by an oxygen mask and pale as parchment, was "Ye Xiaoxiao"—her original body. And sitting by the bed was a woman with a hunched back, head bowed, gently rubbing the cold hand of the person on the bed.
It was her mother.
In just one month, the white hair on her mother's head seemed to have doubled. Her once rounded shoulders were now so thin they could barely hold up her faded, threadbare jacket.
"Mom..." Xiaoxiao mouthed the word silently. Her hand rested on the door handle, her fingertips vibrating with a violent tremor.
"Don't be impulsive," Qiao Fei's spirit appeared behind her. Her voice was still cool, but it carried a rare note of gravity. "If you go in now, how will you explain who you are? To her, that face is just a stranger, a wealthy young lady."
Tears burst from Xiaoxiao's eyes. She bit her lower lip hard, stifling a sob. The sheer absurdity of it—having her mother right in front of her, yet lacking even the right to call her "Mom"—felt like it was tearing her soul apart.
At that moment, as if sensing something, Mother Ye slowly turned her head.
Xiaoxiao had no time to hide. Their gazes collided through the glass.
Mother Ye froze. She stared at the beautiful girl at the door—a girl dressed in expensive clothes, looking like someone out of a painting, yet staring back at her with a face drenched in tears.
Mother Ye stood up awkwardly, wiping her hands on her apron. She opened the door with a flustered, humble politeness. "Miss... are you in the wrong room?"
That one word—"Miss"—was a blade driven straight into Xiaoxiao's heart.
"I..." Xiaoxiao opened her mouth, her voice fractured. "I'm looking for Xiaoxiao. I'm her... friend. I just got back from abroad."
The wariness in Mother Ye's eyes vanished, replaced by a wave of sorrow. "Oh, a friend of Xiaoxiao's... That child, she never mentioned she had such a beautiful friend. Please, come in. Don't just stand there."
Xiaoxiao stepped into the room, every stride feeling like she was walking on needles. She looked at her own lifeless body on the bed, then at her humble, grieving mother. The tears wouldn't stop.
"Xiaoxiao has a hard life. She just collapsed out of nowhere, and the doctors can't find the cause," Mother Ye said, her hands shaking as she tried to find a clean cup to pour some water. In her nervousness, the lid slipped and clattered onto the floor.
"I'll get it!" Xiaoxiao instinctively knelt to pick it up.
In that fleeting second, their hands brushed. Xiaoxiao felt the thick calluses and the icy temperature of her mother's fingers—the familiar comfort she had known her entire life.
Mother Ye watched the wealthy girl pick up the lid so naturally. A flicker of confusion and an inexplicable sense of closeness crossed her face. She whispered, "Miss... your eyes... they look so much like my Xiaoxiao's..."
Xiaoxiao's heart skipped a beat.
"Control your emotions," Qiao Fei whispered in her ear, her voice carrying a faint, uncharacteristic sigh. "If you stay any longer, you'll blow your cover."
Xiaoxiao took a sharp breath, pulled all the cash from her bag, and pressed it into Mother Ye's hands. "Auntie, this is just a small gesture... for Xiaoxiao's nutrition. I... I'll come back to see her in a couple of days."
Without waiting for a response, and unable to face her mother's eyes filled with gratitude and bewilderment, she turned and fled.
The Hospital Entrance
Outside, the sunlight was blinding. Xiaoxiao leaned against a stone pillar, sobbing until her strength left her.
"I was right there in front of her..." she choked out, shielding her face. "Miss Qiao, why did it turn out like this? I didn't even dare to hug her."
Qiao Fei's spirit drifted beside her, watching the distant flow of traffic. It was a long time before the proud heiress spoke, her voice uncharacteristically soft:
"At least you saw your mother. As long as the body is still there, there is still hope for us to switch back."
Xiaoxiao looked up, her vision blurred by tears. For the first time, she saw something in Qiao Fei's eyes other than cold logic.
She saw sympathy.