The True Heiress And The Fake Heiress Ended Up Together - Chapter 1

Qin Mianmian was dead.

She lay on the hospital bed, her eyes closed forever.

Those beautiful, clear eyes—eyes that once looked at people as if whispering tender love—would never open again.

Jian Ying’an’s hands and feet turned cold. She reached out to touch Qin Mianmian’s face.

Too thin. The touch was nothing but skin and bones. She brushed aside Qin Mianmian’s long hair, revealing her pale face.

In the past, Qin Mianmian’s cheeks were plump, her smile carried dimples, and her whole being was so sweet it was almost cloying—like someone who had never known sorrow or worry.

Now she was fragile, as thin as paper.

Back then, Jian Ying’an couldn’t stand Qin Mianmian. She thought Mianmian only knew how to smile, and with that silly, innocent sweetness, she easily stole everything that should have belonged to her.

Now Jian Ying’an wished more than anything that Mianmian would open her eyes and smile at her again.

Qin Mianmian and Jian Ying’an were bound by a cursed fate.

More than twenty years ago, a nanny switched their identities, making Qin Mianmian the Qin family’s daughter, while the true heiress was raised in poverty, barely surviving from meal to meal.

When Jian Ying’an was finally recognized, the Qin parents refused to restore her rightful surname.

They told her: “We cannot let outsiders think Mianmian is an illegitimate child. Your identity must remain hidden.”

They thought only of Qin Mianmian, never of her.

Jian Ying’an remembered it clearly—it was like a thorn driven deep into her heart, impossible to remove.

At that time, Qin Mianmian wore a delicate lace dress, pink and frilly, holding candies Jian Ying’an had never tasted. She offered one, saying, “Here, have it.”

Jian Ying’an slapped it away.

She stubbornly believed the dress, the candy, everything should have been hers. Why should this girl occupy all that belonged to her, then act as if she were being generous by giving her scraps?

Now Jian Ying’an regretted it bitterly. She should have tasted that candy.

To this day, she still didn’t know what it tasted like.

Qin Mianmian never touched candy again.

Instead, she began taking sleeping pills—otherwise she couldn’t sleep. Her hair fell out in handfuls. The medicine became addictive, forcing her to swallow more and more.

All of this was caused by Jian Ying’an. Yet she felt it wasn’t enough.

She pushed further, until Qin Mianmian’s reputation was ruined.

Finally, the Qin family publicly acknowledged Jian Ying’an as their true daughter, while Qin Mianmian was branded a usurper, a shameless pretender.

This was what Jian Ying’an had longed for—she had reclaimed what was rightfully hers.

But then she was kidnapped.

The ransom was small, only a few million—nothing to the Qin family. Yet no one came for her. She was locked in an abandoned factory, forced to drink rainwater tinged with rust.

Her heart hardened with hatred. She despised the Qin family and swore that if she survived, she would make them regret it.

But no one saved her. She was abandoned.

In the hospital room, white walls and cold lights surrounded them. A tall woman sat by the bed, dressed in striped hospital clothes, her long neck and delicate collarbones exposed.

Without makeup, she had lost her usual strength, looking weary and fragile. She weakly held Qin Mianmian’s hand.

Tears slid down Jian Ying’an’s face, falling onto Mianmian’s cheeks, as if Mianmian herself were crying for her.

Jian Ying’an wiped them away.

Everyone in the world could have saved Jian Ying’an—everyone except Qin Mianmian.

Yet no one did. Only Qin Mianmian.

Why? Jian Ying’an had destroyed her, stripped her of everything, watched her bloom only to wither, and finally waste away. And still, dragging her broken body, Qin Mianmian came to save her.

So foolish. To save someone from kidnappers, you need money!

But her money had already been taken—by Jian Ying’an herself. Jian Ying’an had even sneered, “This is Qin family’s money. It has nothing to do with you.”

Thinking of this, Jian Ying’an gave a bitter laugh. Her body was weak, trembling, but she forced herself to stay upright.

She had been imprisoned for days, her body and spirit pushed to the brink.

Still, she wanted to stay by Qin Mianmian’s side.

What could a frail, penniless girl do?

She could only shock the kidnappers, making them think they had no way out—and so they decided to kill.

Qin Mianmian threw herself in front of Jian Ying’an.

So foolish. Utterly foolish.

Jian Ying’an held her bleeding body, unable to understand. She heard Mianmian whisper: “I was planning to leave the Qin family. I never wanted to take anything from you.”

Her voice grew hoarse, her smile faint as she lay in Jian Ying’an’s arms: “I like you.”

That was why she couldn’t leave. She wanted, selfishly, to stay by Jian Ying’an’s side.

Jian Ying’an was stunned. She rushed her to the hospital, but it was too late.

Too late.

She clung to Mianmian’s hand, pressed her face against it, whispering softly: “Mianmian.”

The word was awkward, tender. She had never called her so affectionately before.

From the beginning, they had been enemies. But in the end, she realized—it was only her own delusion.

Her arrogance had dragged her into hell. Yet Qin Mianmian had reached out to save her. But everything was already too late.

Qin Mianmian was gone.

The only person who had ever truly cared for her was gone.

Footsteps echoed outside.

A young man burst in, furious, wanting to strike Jian Ying’an but stopping himself. Instead, he shouted: “It’s all your fault! You killed my sister!”

This was Qin Xing, Qin Mianmian’s younger brother—by blood, Jian Ying’an’s brother too.

Jian Ying’an looked at him coldly, annoyed at being disturbed.

Her eyelids lifted, lashes trembling, her whole body shaking: “My fault?”

She laughed bitterly: “If your family hadn’t abandoned me, would Mianmian have needed to save me? If not for that, would she be dead?”

As long as Mianmian lived, Jian Ying’an could spend her life making amends.

But Mianmian was dead. And Jian Ying’an’s heart ached more than anyone’s.

She pointed at Qin Xing: “You are the true villains! What right do you have to blame me?”

“With someone like you, do you deserve to call her sister?”

Mianmian was pure. The Qin family? Ruthless, selfish, mad.

What right did they have to be her family?

Qin Xing froze, fists clenched, eyes blazing with fury.

Jian Ying’an continued coldly: “I’m glad I finally saw your true faces. I pity Mianmian for having you.”

Qin Xing roared: “You have no right to speak of her!”

None of them had the right to speak of Mianmian anymore.

Jian Ying’an fell silent.

Then came more footsteps—the Qin parents. They did what Qin Xing had not dared: they slapped Jian Ying’an hard across the face.

Madam Qin screamed: “Give me back my Mianmian!”

Jian Ying’an said nothing, lifeless as a doll.

Through them, she saw her twisted life. Closing her eyes, she felt only exhaustion.

What had it all been for?

She had tortured Mianmian for years, all for the love of parents like these. Her heart was dead.

Now she only wished Mianmian would open her eyes again.

Her cheek burned with the red imprint of five fingers. Reporters arrived, capturing the Qin parents weeping over Mianmian’s body. The ward was chaotic until nurses drove them out.

A farce of the wealthy. Jian Ying’an sneered.

Enough. Stop crying.

Let Mianmian rest in peace.

The funeral was held.

Few attended—only the Qin family. Jian Ying’an realized then that Mianmian had no friends at all.

The only ones present were the filthy Qin family.

Jian Ying’an wore gray, so dull the sunlight couldn’t touch her. She was invisible, insignificant.

On the tombstone, Qin Mianmian’s smile shone brightly.

Her time was forever frozen in that moment.

Jian Ying’an glanced at Madam Qin still crying, pressed her lips together, and left silently.

She brushed past someone—Shen Jinyu, Mianmian’s fiancé. His eyes were red, grief