Together in Hardship, Apart in Glory

On Wednesday afternoon, when my phone vibrated, the name 'Shirley Xavier' flashed on the screen, and my fingers froze for a moment—this name had stayed with me for three years. I picked up the call, and her voice was wrapped in a joy I had never heard before: “Simon, I've found my biological parents!” My grip on the phone tightened; the cold metal pressed into my palm, but my mind felt frozen, unable to respond for several moments. For three years, Shirley had told me she was an orphan grown up in the orphanage, her greatest wish to have a family. But now, her biological parents not only exist—they belong to the famous Wade Family of the Capital City. My throat tightened. It took me a few seconds before I managed to ask, "When did you find your family?" She smiled and replied, "Just last week. I've been busy adjusting to life with the Wade Family and didn't get a chance to tell you." I murmured, "Congratulations," my voice so soft it seemed to drift in the air. She added, "There's a Homecoming Banquet this weekend. You have to come—I want to introduce you to Mom and Dad." I agreed and hung up. The office was empty except for me. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting mottled shadows, but inside, I felt hollow—like a piece of me was missing. I met Shirley Xavier in June, at the graduation season. It was an exceptionally hot day. I had just left the Lincoln Group headquarters, and tried to find an internship, when I ran into her eating instant noodles at a corner cafe. She wore a faded shirt, her ponytail tied loosely, with a crumpled resume in front of her. Yet she told her friend, "One day I'll start my own business, never have to take the subway or eat instant noodles again." I was drawn to that stubborn spirit, hesitant to reveal I was the Lincoln heir—I wanted to meet someone who didn't care about my identity, so I told her I came from an ordinary family. She warmly helped me find a job. Later, we worked at the same small company—squeezing onto the subway in the mornings, eating convenience store dinners at night. Life was simple, yet steady. Before long, she decided to quit and start her own business. I gave her my full support—staying up late to help draft the business plan, secretly arranging for my family to invest anonymously. I feared our feelings might become complicated otherwise. We rented a forty-square-meter apartment on the city's outskirts. At night, cramped on the small sofa, she leaned on my shoulder and said, "Simon Lincoln, once the company succeeds, we'll get married, buy a house with a yard, and fill it with sunflowers." I believed her. I quarreled fiercely with my family over her and haven't returned to the Lincoln Family's Old Residence in three years, pouring all my time and energy into her and the company. The weekend's Homecoming Banquet was held at the Wade Family's Old Residence, with red walls and black tiles, and uniformed bodyguards standing at the entrance—it was clearly no ordinary event. I arrived half an hour early, carrying a gift for the Wade Family elders, but spotted James Jones by the stone lion. He wore a bespoke suit and held a luxury gift box, his head bowed as he spoke to Shirley, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Shirley linked her arm with his, her smile brighter than usual, the diamond necklace around her neck dazzling—only later did I learn it was a seven-figure token of acknowledgment from the Wade Family. I walked over and called out, “Shirley. Her eyes flickered briefly; she instinctively released James Jones' hand, her fingers tightening around the hem of her skirt. But James Jones stepped forward first, his tone edged with provocation: “Hello, Mr. Lincoln. I'm Shirley's new assistant, James Jones.” His gaze swept over my wheelchair—I'd sprained my ankle moving things last week and was temporarily dependent on it—his boastfulness impossible to conceal. I didn't shake his hand; instead, I asked Shirley, “What's going on? You never said you had a new assistant.” She was about to reply when the banquet host urged her onto the stage. She said hurriedly, “I'll explain later,” and followed James Jones in, leaving me standing there, clutching the heavy gift. I pushed the wheelchair into the banquet hall, filled with figures from the Capital City, dressed in splendid attire, chatting and laughing. I wore an ordinary suit and sat in the wheelchair like an outsider. The stage lights brightened, and Shirley walked to the center in a white evening gown, holding a microphone. She first thanked the elders of the Wade Family: "Thank you for accepting me and giving me a complete family." Applause broke out from the audience, and the members of the Wade Family smiled and nodded. But in the next moment, her tone shifted: "There is another piece of good news to announce today." She waved toward the audience, and James Jones quickly stepped onto the stage, naturally taking her hand. "This is my fiance, James Jones. We'll be married on Grandfather's eightieth birthday, as a birthday gift for Grandpa." The applause from the audience grew louder; even the members of the Wade Family stood to clap.