Chapter 181

Chapter 181

◎Which Way Should the Balance Tip?◎

Meng Qi was instantly stunned by Jia Qing’s heart-wrenching sobs—her voice trembling with raw emotion as she sat on the bed. He couldn’t fathom how such profound sorrow could erupt from someone who supposedly didn’t love her child.

Was Jia Qing an actress?

Was this maternal love?

He had no friends in the acting profession; the only person he knew in the entertainment industry was Wang Boyuan, who had just begun auditioning for a talent show and wouldn’t qualify as an actor until he reached the finals. So Wang Boyuan offered no insight into the distinction between performers and ordinary people. Having never known his own mother while growing up—and never experienced genuine maternal love—he lacked any frame of reference for comparison.

No matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t figure it out.

Just as Meng Qi sank deeper into thought, Jia Qing—receiving no reply—continued weeping softly at the other end: “Are you doing all right? Do you have enough money? Mom misses you so much—truly—but if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s okay too. Just let me transfer the money to Brother Yiyi first, all right? You can get it from him whenever you need it.”

Meng Qi wasn’t short on funds at the moment. Even after giving some to Wang Boyuan and spending more on expanding the school, his bank balance still ended in several zeros. Though not as wealthy as before, it still gave him confidence to live comfortably here.

Moreover, compared to accepting money from Jia Qing, he felt far more at ease using Ren Suiyi’s—somehow, it felt less complicated.

After brief reflection, his thoughts shifted decisively. He reached out to Ren Suiyi and said firmly, “Brother, hand me the phone.”

Given the sincerity in Jia Qing’s cries, he would reluctantly speak with her—just a little. It cost him nothing, and he could consider it… repayment for her having given birth to “Meng Qi” in the novel. After all, the novel’s “Meng Qi” had taken excellent care of his own grandparents; surely, he owed something in return.

Meng Qi had made up his mind and was ready to speak with Jia Qing—yet Ren Suiyi looked uneasy. He covered the mouthpiece and whispered, “If you don’t want to answer, don’t. I’ll respond for you. Don’t force yourself. In front of me, you never have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Those words struck Meng Qi deeply. It was the first time anyone had encouraged him to simply be himself—to choose based solely on his own desire, without concern for others’ expectations.

He appreciated it—and felt genuinely happy. The weight that had settled over his heart since deciding to take the call lifted instantly, replaced by relief and comfort. Smiling warmly at Ren Suiyi, he said honestly, “I’m not forcing myself this time. I *want* to talk to her.”

Seeing Meng Qi’s resolve, Ren Suiyi stopped trying to dissuade him. Instead, he reminded him, “If you feel upset at any point, hang up—whenever you like.”

Then he passed the phone over, gesturing toward the door to indicate he’d stay right there—not going anywhere. It gave Meng Qi both security and privacy.

Meng Qi smiled and nodded, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. Clearing his throat, he beat Jia Qing to the greeting and said simply, “Hello,” into the receiver.

He didn’t know how to address her. “Mom” felt unbearably heavy—he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Yet a casual “Hey” felt too blunt, equally impossible to utter.

“Hello” was perfect—polite, neutral, foolproof.

But the moment he spoke, Jia Qing fell utterly silent. The line went eerily still—as if the phone had been dropped into an empty, sealed room with no signal. The silence was unsettling.

Reluctantly, Meng Qi asked softly, “Are you still there?”

“I’m here! I’m here! Qiqi—I’m here, Mom’s here! Mom… Mom didn’t expect you to pick up. I’m just—so excited, so excited—I couldn’t react in time!” Jia Qing burst out, alternating between tears and laughter. It took her a long moment to steady herself before continuing: “Qiqi, are you okay? Mom misses you so much—truly… Mom… Mom misses you *so*, *so* much…” Her voice dissolved into quiet sobs.

The restrained crying didn’t sound fake.

But if she missed him so much—why had she gotten his name wrong? Meng Qi was baffled again. Swallowing the bitterness rising in his chest, he corrected her gently: “My name is Meng Qi—the character *Qi* meaning ‘to abandon,’ not ‘to align.’”

Another brief silence followed. Then, after a few seconds, Jia Qing’s sobs resumed—deeper, more sorrowful than before—leaving Meng Qi even more unsettled.

Instinctively, he glanced toward the door—where a figure stood motionless. His heart calmed instantly. He sighed, turned his back to the door, and wiped the corners of his eyes.

Choking back tears, Jia Qing explained: “You probably don’t remember—but when you were little, you were called Meng Qi. Your maternal grandfather chose that name. He hoped you’d grow up embodying the principle of ‘seeing virtue and striving to emulate it,’ and aspire to become a great man who could ‘cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, and bring peace to the world.’ The *Qi* in Meng Qi is the *Qi* from ‘seeing virtue and striving to emulate it’—and also the *Qi* from ‘cultivating oneself, regulating the family, governing the state, and bringing peace to the world.’”

So that was it…

Completely different from the origin of the novel’s “Meng Qi”!

If Jia Qing’s account were true, the story’s trajectory would be warm, healing—

If the novel’s “Meng Qi” had heard this, he’d have been overjoyed. The knot buried deep in his heart for years would finally loosen. From then on, his life would have taken a wholly different course—because his birth, too, would have been accompanied by familial love and blessing. He wouldn’t have been branded from birth as someone “meant to be abandoned.” His happiness would finally break through the dark clouds…

He could hardly imagine how brightly he’d shine beneath the sun…

No—wait. Just because his maternal grandfather had eagerly awaited his birth and bestowed such a meaningful name didn’t necessarily mean his mother had shared that anticipation, did it? Perhaps, just as in the original story, he’d still been destined for abandonment at birth?

With that doubt, Meng Qi decided to ask directly: “And you? Did *you* also hope ‘I’ would grow up to be a great man who could ‘cultivate oneself, regulate the family, govern the state, and bring peace to the world’?”

Jia Qing didn’t hesitate: “Yes. Your grandfather’s hopes were mine, too.”

Meng Qi was stunned.

Her answer wasn’t entirely unexpected—but it caught him off guard, leaving his mind momentarily blank. He blurted out, “Then why did you—”

—abandon me?

If you loved me, how could you abandon me so easily?

And if you abandoned me so easily—how much love could you truly have held?

Whether in reality or in the novel, the tension between love and abandonment had always been an impassable barrier for Meng Qi. He desperately needed to hear the answer—from a mother’s lips.

In reality, he’d been abandoned by his biological parents because of his eyes. Though he’d resisted accepting it at first, as he grew older and faced countless unforeseen complications caused by his condition, his initial resentment gradually softened into understanding. But the novel’s “Meng Qi” was healthy, handsome, intelligent, talented—why had *he* been abandoned?

Could it be that some children were born solely so their parents could fulfill the act of abandoning them?

But who assigned that task?

Meng Qi couldn’t comprehend it.

He held his breath, waiting for Jia Qing’s answer—as if awaiting judgment from his own birth mother.

Jia Qing wept: “Mom *tried*. Mom wanted to take you with me—I didn’t want to leave you behind. But your father refused to let me take you. His sole condition for agreeing to divorce me was keeping you. Qiqi—Mom… I just couldn’t live with him anymore. I tried—I *really* tried. I almost lost my mind…”

That explanation tore Meng Qi’s heart in two. One half ached for the novel’s “Meng Qi”—for his suffering. The other half grieved for Jia Qing’s tragic marriage.

He regretted taking the call.

Because just moments ago, he’d felt the urge to forgive Jia Qing—on behalf of the novel’s “Meng Qi.” But the instant that thought surfaced, guilt over betraying the novel’s “Meng Qi” slammed him back to reality.

Dazed, he couldn’t even tell whose pain was real as his heart splintered.

If only he hadn’t answered the phone. Was it already too late to hang up?

“Qiqi—it’s true I couldn’t watch you grow up. It’s also true that, in pursuit of true love, I left you—a baby swaddled in cloth—in the Meng family. I was young and stubborn, and I made many mistakes. So I don’t expect your forgiveness. I know I have no right to ask for it… I’m saying this only because I don’t want you to feel troubled or sad, okay? Mom called Suiyi just to check on how you’re doing. Mom also wants to do everything possible to make up for the mistakes of my youth. I want you to give me a chance—to make it right. Can I?” Her voice cracked with tears, thick with remorse and pleading.

The phone grew heavier and heavier in Meng Qi’s hand. He ached to hurl it away. His throat felt choked with sand—breathing was difficult, and no matter how hard he tried, not a single word would come.

On the other end, Jia Qing kept crying: “Mom doesn’t know why you ran away from home. I don’t know where you found the courage to go alone to a completely unfamiliar place. But I know you must have suffered a terrible injustice to make that choice. When I heard you were missing, my heart shattered… Qiqi, son—come to France with me, okay? No one will dare bully you there. Mom will protect you. Mom will fight off the bad guys for you. Uncle Zhongjie will protect you too—he promised me he’d treat you as his own child. Ever since I arrived in France, Uncle Zhongjie and I have been preparing a room for you…”

“Please stop—for now, okay? My head is spinning. Let’s talk another time,” Meng Qi interrupted urgently.

He felt his heart tilting sharply toward Jia Qing—and simultaneously, a suffocating dread closed in. That wasn’t a good sign.

Jia Qing agreed readily: “Okay, Qiqi. Mom won’t say another word. Mom will stop. Go rest. When you’ve rested, Mom will call you again.” She paused, then after a long silence, asked cautiously, “Can Mom call you directly?”

Meng Qi pinched the bridge of his nose hard, sighed, and said, “Wait until *I* call *you*.”