Chapter 20: Origins

The return journey was slowed by traffic, and by the time she reached Yunhai Road, the last vestiges of sunset had slipped behind the western hills.

Anthea pressed the button for the automatic door. Dr. Rong picked up the folder from the seat and handed it to her, his voice deep and steady as he reminded her, “Take this with you. The contents might be of help.”

“All right. See you next time, Dr. Rong.”

Trusting him, Anthea didn’t ask further questions. She accepted the folder, stepped out, and disappeared into the deep alleyway.

Once she was out of sight, the man glanced at the rearview mirror. “Have the farm cleared out ahead of time. On Friday, pick Anthea up and take her straight there.”

Cheng Feng immediately nodded, replying, “Understood, Ninth Master.”

He had to admit, Ninth Master truly spared no effort for Miss An’s treatment—he was even planning to take her out to the farm for a change of scenery.

…

When Anthea returned home and opened the door, her fluffy little Anan came running to her feet, whining and rubbing against her legs.

The pup seemed especially aggrieved, front paws clutching at her as it whimpered incessantly.

Anthea left the door open, tilting her head with a gentle question, “Want to go out and play?”

The puppy barked once, then darted out into the yard, bounding to and fro in delight.

Seeing this, Anthea simply settled at the wooden table outside the window, silently keeping the pup company.

The evening was drifting toward dusk, the pale blue sky streaked with wisps of cloud scattered by the wind.

With a trace of curiosity, Anthea opened the folder in her hands.

The first few pages contained a playlist of light music—nearly a hundred pieces, by rough count. Some selections were specially marked with asterisks in pen.

Further in were lists of obscure musicals and story collections, and even a daily meal plan and listening schedule.

Nearly every page was meticulously annotated and highlighted.

Anthea gazed at the strong, resolute handwriting, and could almost picture the man focused intently in the library, pen in hand.

She had assumed he was handling business or working on treatment plans for other patients—never expecting these were all prepared for her.

Looking at the playlist, she recalled something the music therapist Han Qi had once said:

—He has made remarkable achievements in the field of music therapy.

No wonder that, during her previous visits to the health center, the rooms had always been filled with soothing instrumental melodies.

Anthea took out her phone and, following the playlist, found the first piece of music.

She turned up the volume, sat in the golden dusk, listening to the piano, her chin propped in hand as she watched Anan play.

Perhaps… she ought to buy a better sound system to make the most of Dr. Rong’s listening plan.

…

The next day, Anthea arrived at the magazine office on time.

Since the incident in the group chat, Deputy Editor Liu Ran’s attitude toward her had shifted subtly. No longer did she speak with the same air of command, her words now tinged with a faint, guarded deference.

Midway through the morning, several female colleagues took the opportunity to gather in the break room for a chat.

Anthea’s desk was separated from the break room by only half a glass wall—soft as their voices were, she could make out much of the conversation.

“Yes, I read that article too. Whatever else you say, just her status as the top socialite of Hong Kong is something we can only dream of, never mind performing on stage alongside the Prince of Piano.”

“Well, she was born into privilege, has a stellar education, and is skilled in everything befitting a high society heiress. Compared to her, we’re nothing but wage slaves among wage slaves.”

“I hope I can be born into a good family in my next life, just to know what it’s like to be a socialite.”

Their conversation was little more than idle gossip, and Anthea paid it no mind.

Only when they mentioned a name later did she realize they were talking about the celebrated socialite of Hong Kong, Miss Wen, daughter of the Wen family—Wen Wan.

Soon enough, it was lunchtime. The coworkers were lazily discussing what to eat when, unexpectedly, the elusive head of the editorial department appeared in the office—the same Director Lin who had replied to Anthea in the group chat.

“Anthea, could you come here a moment?”

Director Lin was around forty, of average build, his glasses lending him a scholarly air.

Anthea responded, locked her computer, and followed him into his office.

Liu Ran and the others craned their necks to watch, expressions varied but none daring to comment aloud.

Inside, Anthea greeted him as she entered.

Director Lin casually tidied the manuscripts on his desk and gave her a warm, sidelong smile. “There’s no one else here—no need to be so formal.”

Anthea nodded in agreement. “Uncle Lin.”

He sighed with gentle concern. “So, how’s work been lately? Everything going smoothly?”

“It’s been fine, you don’t need to worry.”

“It’s hard not to worry.” He shook his thermos. “I was on a business trip at the provincial branch recently. Even from afar, I hear all the major and minor news here at headquarters. You, child—if your colleagues give you trouble, why not tell me?”

Anthea met his gaze calmly and replied, “It’s not trouble—just ordinary work matters.”

“You’re just like your mother was—stubborn, always downplaying the bad and highlighting the good.” Director Lin adjusted his glasses and handed her a cup of warm water.

Her mother, Xie Miaohua, had been the chief editor he spoke of. Director Lin owed his current position to her guidance and support.

Because of this bond and his gratitude, Director Lin treated Anthea as his own.

But as he said, Anthea was fiercely independent. When she’d first joined the magazine, she’d insisted on a minor part-time proofreading job, even setting her own salary.

Unable to sway her, Director Lin could only look after her in other ways. After all, Anthea was hardly in need—just the compensation from that old accident would ensure her a comfortable life.

“Are you free this weekend? Your Aunt Qiao wants you to come for a meal at our home. Lin Bo is on holiday and has been hoping you’d coach him on his foreign language studies.”

Anthea thought for a moment, then gently declined, “Uncle Lin, I have some matters this weekend.”

He sighed silently. Most likely, her so-called matters were just an excuse.

Since Chief Editor Xie’s accident, the once cheerful and lively girl had changed overnight—growing withdrawn and reluctant to interact with others. It was a source of both regret and helplessness.

Yet, as Director Lin wondered what more he could do, Anthea offered, “But I’ll be free next week. If Lin Bo is available, I can come over to help him then.”

Surprised but pleased, Director Lin looked up at her—she was finally opening up again.

“Lin Bo will definitely be available. If he hears this, he’d skip school just to wait for you at home. And now your Aunt Qiao won’t have cause to scold me for not inviting you over.”

Anthea smiled faintly.

Perhaps, accepting others’ kindness and care wasn’t so difficult after all.

As Dr. Rong had said: only by learning to let go can one truly live.

…

At two in the afternoon, Anthea finished her work and left the office.

She had intended to go home early to spend time with Anan, but as she crossed the street, she found herself in front of the Baida Shopping Center.

Listening to light music through her earphones, she entered without hesitation—she was determined to buy a high-fidelity sound system.