Being Raised in Captivity by the Former Canary - Chapter 2

A black-haired woman sat by the car window. Her expression was somewhat blank, her figure wrapped in a long black trench coat, and a baseball cap perched on her head. The gray-black combination gave her a travel-worn, weary look.

Suppressing the gritty, aching sensation in her eyes and the sluggishness of her mind from waking up early to catch the train, Quan Ruo’an shifted her backpack and scooted sideways, trying to adjust her posture after sitting for so long.

But the moment her hips moved, an impatient “tsk” came from beside her.

“You’ve got a big butt! All you do is shove and squeeze!” The middle-aged woman holding a child glared at her, spat out the harsh words, and turned away.

Quan Ruo’an pressed her lips together, her lashes drooping slightly before she resumed the same posture she had maintained for so long.

She had returned to R City to settle some affairs.

Three years ago, the Quan Corporation had collapsed, shattering her family and career. Her father had died early, and her mother had jumped to her death, leaving Quan Ruo’an to eke out a solitary existence. Abandoning everything in R City, she had fled to another province.

Now back in R City, Quan Ruo’an was here to handle some legal matters. The Quan Family’s business empire had been vast, and since its bankruptcy, several loyal veterans from the company had stayed behind, eager to help her.

Back then, everyone was struggling, so Quan Ruo’an had told them to prioritize their own affairs. Now, three years had passed, and the company’s lawyers no longer had to secretly gather information behind the backs of petty individuals.

A single phone call was all it took for her to “fly” from H City to R City.

Of course, she didn’t actually fly. She took the high-speed rail followed by a rideshare.

Stepping out of the rideshare, which reeked of sweat, smoke, cheap leather, and betel nut, Quan Ruo’an leaned against a roadside wall and dry-heaved. She remained bent over for a moment, gradually regaining her composure.

Glancing around, she quickly recognized the district and general area. The law firm was located on a narrow local street, inaccessible to the rideshare, which had dropped her off at the roadside.

Quan Ruo’an pulled out her phone to navigate to the law firm, but the device was four years old, its memory long since full. After enduring countless hardships with her—bumps here, water damage there—it had become unreliable.

Sure enough, after freezing for a couple of seconds, it completely crashed.

A faint twitch ran through Quan Ruo’an’s brow as she suppressed the rising irritation. She turned and walked toward the other side of the road.

Even in late spring, the weather in R City still carried a lingering chill.

Quan Ruo’an tugged his baseball cap lower and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. Spotting a bus stop ahead, he decided to rest there for a while.

The street was crowded with pedestrians, and Quan Ruo’an could hear snippets of conversations all around him. Local and out-of-town accents mingled, mostly young people buzzing with excitement.

“The Azalea Snow-themed art exhibition is just ahead! I’m so excited! I even dressed up specially to match the theme today.”

“Your outfit took the longest to prepare! Let’s hurry, or we’ll miss the opening remarks…”

“Why are you blaming me again? Someone was hitting the snooze button this morning, you know!”

The two girls, arm in arm, quickened their pace and soon overtook him.

Just as Quan Ruo’an was about to turn and leave, footsteps approached from behind. “We’re heading to the airport tonight. That girl studying in England finally agreed to meet up.”

“You know exactly why she booked a late flight, right?”

The voices of the two men were sharply picked up by the figure ahead.

Small world.

Quan Ruo’an’s brow furrowed. After listening for only a second, he recognized the pair behind him—the eldest son of the Sun Family and the illegitimate son of the Wang Family.

The two scoundrels who had always been at odds with her—though the animosity was entirely one-sided—were the eldest son of the Sun family and the illegitimate son of the Wang family. Quan Ruo’an, known for her vindictiveness, had retaliated against them several times in the past, causing them to lose significant projects. When the Quan Family fell from grace, they were among the first to kick her while she was down.

I can’t let them know I’m back, she thought. Otherwise, they’ll seek revenge.

Quan Ruo’an was well-versed in the cutthroat tactics of this world. Her brow furrowed as she calmly quickened her pace, pulling her hat brim low. Her slender frame allowed her to easily slip through the crowd ahead, darting into the grand entrance around the corner.

Inside the art museum, the cool, spacious interior felt like a world away from those two men. Quan Ruo’an breathed a sigh of relief, but as she stepped inside, a staff member stopped her. “Miss, please show me your reservation information.”

The relaxed expression on Quan Ruo’an’s face froze. Her mind raced.

She lowered her head, fiddling with her phone as if searching for the reservation. Then, she looked up apologetically. “I’m sorry, my phone’s acting up.”

The trick worked like a charm. The staff member didn’t press further, merely reminding her to save the reservation code to her photo album for future visits before letting her through.

Having successfully entered the exhibition hall, Quan Ruo’an headed to the restroom to wash her hands.

Jiang Jixue had just finished speaking five minutes ago, and the crowd around her gradually dispersed.

However, three or four fellow artists remained by her side.

They showered her with praise, lauding her remarkable achievements at such a young age and her uniquely brilliant and transcendent painting techniques.

“The color palette in this painting is so dreamlike, and the way you’ve captured the subjects’ expressions is truly exceptional.”

“I heard a rumor that a special private room has been set aside to display Teacher Jiang’s personal collection. I wonder if it would be possible to…”

Before the man could finish, Jiang Jixue interrupted him. “These are just publicity stunts arranged by the museum. Hmm… most of the works inside are from my early, less mature period. It makes me a little embarrassed for masters like you to see them.”

“Could you at least tell us what kind of works they are?” someone asked.

After a moment’s hesitation, as if carefully choosing her words, Jiang Jixue replied, “…Mostly portraits, and some scenes from daily life.”

“……”

The group continued chatting quietly as they strolled through the museum, moving from one painting to the next.

The museum was cool and dimly lit, with benches provided for visitors to rest.

Quan Ruo’an rested for a while before getting up to leave.

As she stood up to retrace her steps, a soft murmur of conversation drifted from across the room. A voice as clear as freshly fallen snow landed precisely in her ear.

In an instant, Quan Ruo’an turned toward the sound, her gaze filled with suspicion and a flurry of wild speculations.

The woman at the center of the group moved with a graceful, slender poise, like an oil painting veiled in a delicate gauze. While others spoke, she listened with her eyes lowered, her demeanor both aloof and radiating an innate nobility in every gesture.

As it turned out, even her most far-fetched speculations could one day come true.

The woman wore a cloche hat with a lotus-leaf brim, black lace gloves, and a white mermaid gown. She moved slowly through the crowd, her noble, icy beauty reminiscent of a haughty white swan.

Even a glimpse of her profile sent a tidal wave of emotion crashing through Quan Ruo’an’s heart.

Jixue… how could it be her?!

If she wanted to leave through the exit, the two of them would inevitably cross paths. Without hesitation, Quan Ruo’an’s thoughts crystallized in a split second, and she turned and sprinted back toward the restroom.

At the exact moment Quan Ruo’an turned, Jiang Jixue also turned around.

Even just the movement of her turning, even just seeing the back of that figure, made Jiang Jixue’s breath catch in her throat. Instinctively, she took a step forward to follow.

Every cell in her body burned and trembled. Her eyes could only focus on that one person.

I can’t miss anyone who looks like her!

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Jiang Jixue murmured, brushing past the crowd without waiting for a response. She followed the figure into the gallery.

The art museum featured a unique French-style stained glass window. The brilliant late spring sunlight streamed through the colored panes, casting vibrant patterns across the cool interior. The light fell perfectly on the woman as she lifted the hem of her skirt and moved forward.

A tourist photographer paused for only a few seconds before raising his camera and snapping a photo of the figure—hurried yet still elegant and captivating.

Quan Ruo’an entered the restroom and washed his hands with cold water. The icy stream jolted him awake, calming his nerves and dispelling the tension and fear that had gripped him moments earlier.

He stared at his plain face reflected in the mirror beneath the baseball cap, a momentary daze washing over him.

Before the daze could fully dissipate, a figure suddenly materialized beside him.

Quan Ruo’an turned off the faucet, the water ceasing to flow. He instinctively lifted his gaze.

Another person had appeared in the mirror.

It was the face he knew best.

Her gaze, sharp as a sword, pierced his vision.

Pure, refined, and radiating an unattainable coldness.

Quan Ruo’an’s lips parted slightly, then pressed tightly shut.

Quan Ruo’an turned, forcing herself to meet Jiang Jixue’s gaze with composure. Her chin lifted slightly, her eyes sweeping down with a haughty air.

The two women stood facing each other. Jiang Jixue’s expression shifted subtly, her delicate brows furrowing as she scrutinized the person before her with meticulous care.

The figure before her stood silently, still radiating that aloof, superior aura—the same domineering, cold, and powerful Gold Master she remembered.

But she was gaunt, emaciated, and the cold light in her eyes no longer burned with its former intensity.

During those few seconds of eye contact, Jiang Jixue even glimpsed a flicker of evasion deep within Quan Ruo’an’s composed, icy gaze.

“…Sister,” Jiang Jixue blurted out involuntarily, using the intimate term she had once used for her lover. The word hung heavy in the air, choked out between her lips.

As Jiang Jixue stared at the ashen figure before her, the suppressed pain in her heart surged to unbearable levels.

What had her sister endured during these three years of separation?

A jumble of chaotic thoughts flooded her mind. Tears welled up rapidly in Jiang Jixue’s eyes, shimmering droplets swirling in their shallow pools, stubbornly refusing to spill over.

Quan Ruo’an watched as the person she knew best—the one who knew her best—reddened around the eyes, now rendered speechless by overwhelming emotion.

“Sister… is it really you?”

“Mm,” Quan Ruo’an replied, her voice muffled.