It turns out connections are incredibly useful. After visiting Lin Jian, all the second-hand items Le Qing had brought from home were completely sold out. Many people even secretly added her on WeChat, hoping to climb the social ladder through her.
Le Qing didn’t want to invite unnecessary trouble. Though she had never been wealthy herself, she had read enough novels and watched enough dramas to know that the lives of the rich were far too complicated—not suited for someone like her.
So, the moment anyone added her, she immediately sent them a note: "Just an ordinary person with no social connections."
Lin Jian, who had also added her, naturally saw this. When she saw Le Qing and the two children off, she couldn’t help glancing at the now-empty trunk and remarked, "You’re really willing to part with everything? Not keeping anything for yourself?"
"Same clothes, same food. Having them or not doesn’t make a difference," Le Qing replied as she fastened the children’s seatbelts. "Thank you for today."
Lin Jian raised an eyebrow.
Le Qing clarified, "Without you, things wouldn’t have gone so smoothly."
She wasn’t the type to take advantage of others without acknowledgment. She knew exactly who was responsible for today’s success, and though she desperately needed the money, she wasn’t about to pretend otherwise.
Hearing this, Lin Jian gave her a long, thoughtful look.
In families like theirs, mutual exploitation was commonplace. Even her own younger brother had used her name to host gatherings with influencers. But Le Qing was the only one who openly acknowledged her struggles without pretense.
Admittedly, her personality made her somewhat hard to approach, but interacting with her was surprisingly comfortable.
"I won’t let anyone bother you through my connections," Le Qing assured her.
Lin Jian smiled dismissively. "It’s really not a big deal."
While the adults talked in the front, the two siblings craned their necks curiously from the backseat.
They didn’t understand what their aunt and Auntie Lin were discussing, but since they were leaving now, shouldn’t well-mannered children say goodbye?
But they had already caused trouble earlier, so they hesitated, unsure if they should speak up.
"We’ll be going now," Le Qing said, then added after a pause, "If we ever collaborate in the future, I might bring the kids along. There’s usually no one at home to look after them."
Turning around, she finally noticed the children’s conflicted expressions—sitting stiffly upright but unable to resist stealing glances outside.
"Have the children always lived with you?" Lin Jian asked casually.
"Yes."
Though surprised, Lin Jian knew better than to pry into personal matters and simply nodded. "You’ve raised them well."
But Le Qing froze for a moment. She had always considered caring for the children her responsibility, but it only now struck her that their past habits were shaped by the original owner of this body.
A slight frown creased her brow.
She had never imagined having children before, let alone raising them. Yet from the moment she transmigrated, she was tasked with their upbringing until their father took them back.
But how was she supposed to teach them?
She only knew how to survive.
If not for the mountain of debt, she’d wish their father would come and take them away already.
With a silent sigh, she recalled the educational PSAs she’d seen and turned to the two well-behaved children waiting in the car. "Do you want to say goodbye to Auntie?"
The moment they heard this, their faces lit up—finally, their turn to speak!
"Bye-bye, Auntie!" they chorused, waving enthusiastically.
Back home, after bathing the children and tucking them into bed, Le Qing realized they had a habit of staring at their phones whenever they had free time, even sneaking in some short videos before sleep.
Recalling the cringe-worthy clips in their favorites list, she knew this was a problem. Based on her experience, children their age were especially prone to phone addiction—short videos were practically designed to hook them.
And these two little rascals had even started filming their own clips.
If she let this continue unchecked, who knew how wildly they’d turn out? Their father would surely blame her for poor parenting.
That couldn’t happen.
Le Qing stood at the bedroom door, lost in thought for so long that the children grew uneasy, burrowing under the covers until only their eyes peeked out.
Auntie looked just like she used to—poised to grab a hanger and scold them.
"What’s she thinking?" Little Le Jia quietly tucked the blanket around his sister, ready to shield her like before.
"Hmm..." Backlit by the hallway light, Little Le'an squinted to make out her aunt’s expression. "Education... huh?"
Auntie suddenly turned and left!
Was she getting the hanger?!
Less than a minute later, soft footsteps returned. The nervous siblings heard a calm voice: "May I come in?"
Little Le'an blinked in confusion. "Isn’t this Auntie’s room?"
Even though she and her brother had been staying here for days, Auntie had never entered before.
The children studied her warily until Little Le Jia noticed she wasn’t holding a hanger—just a small box.
He recognized it: the first-aid kit Auntie had bought recently, decorated with candy stickers.
She’d gotten it after struggling to find medicine when his sister fell ill. Inside were ointments she’d used on their bruises, making the old hurts fade.
Was someone sick?
He sat up straight. "Come in!"
Le Qing exhaled slightly in relief. If she modeled good manners, maybe they’d learn by example.
Approaching the bed, she said, "Your hands got wet during bath time. Let me treat the scratches from earlier."
The pain was nothing compared to past beatings, but this was the first time Little Le Jia had received care after getting hurt. Stunned, he stared at her face, so close now.
In a whisper, he murmured, "Uncle, she’s not scary at all."
The system agreed—this Le Qing was entirely different—but had no explanation, so it stayed silent.
After disinfecting the scrape and applying a bandage, Le Qing straightened. "We need to talk."
Talk?
The siblings huddled together, utterly lost.
"You’re three years old now. Soon you’ll start kindergarten and learn many new things," she said, her tone cool. "But short videos alone won’t teach you enough. I’ll need to set some limits."
Four eyes blinked repeatedly, uncomprehending.
"Auntie," Little Le'an scrunched her nose, "my ears don’t know words."
Otherwise, why did Auntie’s speech sound both familiar and alien?
Little Le Jia wore a grave expression, though his tiny fists clutched the blanket as he strained to decipher her meaning.
Deciphering failed.
He hung his head. "I don’t understand."
"..."
After a long silence, Le Qing was the first to relent. Right now, she was trying harder than the children—desperately searching for a way to make them understand.
"What I mean is..." She glanced at the children's phones. "You can't spend every waking moment scrolling on your phones, nor can you keep watching mindless videos. You also need to learn new things."
The rest of the words didn’t register with the little ones.
All they heard was "no more phone time."
How could that be?
That was their little bread and butter—literally! And Auntie’s too!
Little Le Jia immediately hid his phone behind his back, looking defensive.
Little Le'an shook her head firmly. "No way."
"Why not?" Le Qing asked.
Bound by his promise to Uncle System not to reveal the secret, Little Le Jia’s face turned red as he struggled to find an excuse.
Luckily, Uncle System came to his rescue.
Stiffly, Little Le Jia repeated the words fed to him: "People here like me."
"Yeah!" Little Le'an eagerly pulled out her phone to back him up. "Look, Auntie! So many people—2,337!"
Only then did Le Qing notice that the video she had filmed of the kids a few days ago had garnered thousands of likes. Their account had even gained a fair number of followers.
See? These little ones were way cuter than their past selves!
A strange sense of pride swelled in her chest.
"Do you like this?" she asked.
Little Le Jia nodded reluctantly.
Le Qing fell silent.
The kids thought people liked them because of the videos—a notion likely born from the original owner’s neglect, which had left them feeling unloved.
[If I take this away from them, they’ll keep believing no one likes them.]
"I’m not saying you can’t film," Le Qing rephrased. "But you need to prioritize. You have to categorize things—filming shouldn’t interfere with your daily life or studies, understand?"
The two little ones nodded, then shook their heads. "Auntie, what’s 'daily life' and 'studies'?"
Wasn’t their life just about their little bread?
"It means..." Le Qing pointed at their phones. "You need to un-like all those videos in your favorites. That’s the first step to learning."
This, Little Le Jia knew how to do!
Just tap the little heart twice!
But... for once, he didn’t feel like obeying. "But... they’re cool."
"?"
That only strengthened Le Qing’s resolve.
Who on earth shaped this kid’s taste?
"Brother," Little Le'an chimed in, surprisingly siding with Auntie this time. "No one thinks pointy faces are cool."
Just as Le Qing was about to nod in agreement, the little girl added with utmost seriousness, "And they don’t wear glass slippers."
"..."
Taking a deep breath, Le Qing asked, "Which of these two videos has more likes?"
There was no comparison.
Though he still didn’t fully understand, Little Le Jia decided to let the facts speak for themselves. With great reluctance, he un-liked all those videos.
"Can’t we negotiate?" Even Uncle System in his head sounded upset. "I think they’re all handsome. You’re handsomer than them! If you’re not going viral, it’s clearly their fault!"
"And what about the future?" the system pressed. "You can’t expect her to film for you forever, can you?"
Little Le Jia’s ears twitched slightly. As much as he loved those videos, he wanted more little bread—badly.
Summoning his courage, he asked, "Then... can you teach me how to film?"
Would Auntie’s videos be better than Uncle System’s?
Having worked as a model, Le Qing had dabbled in social media and knew a thing or two about managing an account.
The kids just wanted to be liked—simple enough. But they couldn’t let it disrupt their lives, especially since they barely knew their numbers and had missed out on basic education.
After some thought, she said, "Well, there might be a way."
Today’s earnings, combined with the money from selling secondhand items, had left her with a decent sum. She could afford to buy the kids some learning materials—and a few things for filming.
Back in her room, Le Qing quickly browsed online and placed an order.
Along with educational flashcards and a talking pen, she added two mini cameras—small enough for the kids to wear all day. That way, they could record their lives without it taking over.
A quick search confirmed that some parenting bloggers did the same.
Meanwhile, the two little ones huddled under the blankets after Auntie left, picking out a pretty outfit they thought she’d love.
When Le Qing returned with the packages, she spotted an unfamiliar box in the living room. "What’s this?"
Since she’d only stepped out briefly, she hadn’t taken the kids with her. But this box wasn’t hers.
"Not trashy little bread!" Little Le'an’s eyes sparkled. "Look, Auntie!"
Little bread?
"Are you hungry?"
Le Qing cooked every meal herself, terrified of the kids going hungry—and the blame that might follow.
"For you," Little Le Jia mumbled from the couch, avoiding eye contact. "Your clothes... are torn."
As she set the packages down, Le Qing froze. Her usually calm eyes flickered with something unreadable. "So... this is for me?"
Never in her wildest dreams had she expected anything in return from the kids. For a moment, she didn’t know how to react.
"Auntie, look!" Little Le'an adored the outfit and was sure Auntie would too. She eagerly tiptoed to open the box.
Before Le Qing could process the emotional weight of the gesture, her heart pounded wildly. She instinctively wanted to retreat but found herself rooted in place.
Then she saw it.
The "new clothes" the kids had proudly retrieved from the box:
A floor-length, pink puffer coat, studded with sequins, a belt encrusted with tiny "diamonds," pockets adorned with garish butterfly patches, and—just to top it off—a lace trim at the hem.
Pair it with red Elsa boots, and it would be the ultimate fashion disaster.
"..."
In that moment, Le Qing’s racing heart came to a screeching halt—plunging into stillness, as lifeless as a stagnant pond.
