【The vibe is too strong.】
Le Qing walked into the room with mixed emotions. Instead of sleeping between the two children, she let them snuggle together while she leaned lightly against the headboard and opened a picture book she had never read before.
"This is a princess with very long hair," she said in a steady tone, though there was a hint of uncertainty. "And this is a witch..."
At first, the twins were excited, but as they listened, they gradually sensed something was off.
Though born on the same day, Little Le Jia, who had the guidance of "System Uncle" in his mind since childhood, understood more than his sister. He knew it was his duty to take care of her—whenever Little Le'an cried after being bullied by their mean aunt, he would ask System Uncle how to comfort her.
So, his little mind was stocked with a few stories, and after repeating them many times to soothe his sister, he had become quite skilled at it.
But why was Auntie’s story different from what Uncle had told them?
"Brother," Little Le'an tugged at her brother’s sleeve, pulling the blanket over her mouth as if whispering very quietly, "Auntie doesn’t seem to know how to tell stories."
Little Le Jia covered her mouth. "Shh, keep it down. Adults care a lot about their pride."
"I covered my mouth!"
Le Qing: "..."
Are you two even trying to be polite?
She wanted to teach them a lesson—like how covering your mouth doesn’t actually mute your voice—but then she thought better of it. Their little hearts might not handle the trauma.
Lost in thought, her storytelling paused.
The two little chatterboxes turned their heads in unison, their eyes wide awake.
Even if Auntie wasn’t great at storytelling, they wouldn’t complain.
Under their expectant gazes, Le Qing tapped the edge of the picture book. "Sorry, I don’t really know how to tell stories."
Instead of lulling them to sleep, she had somehow energized them with criticism.
Seems like I messed up.
Little Le'an turned and saw the look in her aunt’s eyes. Suddenly, she threw off the blanket and asked curiously, "Auntie, have you never heard stories before?"
Le Qing gave a soft hum in response.
Her childhood had been spent trying to be obedient and pleasing—no one had ever told her stories. She hadn’t even known picture books existed. By the time she grew older, she felt she had outgrown such things.
"Next time, I’ll buy ones with words," Le Qing offered as a compromise.
That way, I can just read them aloud for the kids.
"But who used to tell Auntie bedtime stories?"
Little Le'an had always been lulled to sleep by her brother, who had System Uncle. So how did Auntie sleep when she was little?
Le Qing avoided their eyes, absently stroking the picture book. Her tone turned slightly cold. "No one. I slept by myself."
The twins, who had always had each other for warmth, fell silent for a few seconds.
Realizing the kids probably didn’t need her storytelling anymore, Le Qing closed the book and prepared to leave. "Then I’ll just—"
Before she could finish, the bed shook as Little Le'an dramatically rolled over and tugged at her brother’s hand. "Brother, let’s tell Auntie a story!"
Le Qing froze. "What?"
"Brother tells good stories," Little Le'an declared proudly. "He used to put me to sleep. Tonight, he’ll put Auntie to sleep!"
She didn’t understand why no one had ever comforted her aunt, but she had seen how Le Qing slept.
When she was sick that one time, Auntie had curled up quietly on the sofa, her brows furrowed. Little Le'an couldn’t quite describe it, but it reminded her of when her brother used to have nightmares.
"Brother, can you?" she asked.
Little Le Jia pressed his lips together.
"This is upside-down logic!" System Uncle huffed in his mind. "Adults tell stories to kids, not the other way around. You two should just sleep properly."
Little Le Jia didn’t understand the phrase "upside-down logic," but he felt conflicted.
Telling Auntie a story… feels weird.
"Brother, Auntie sleeps unhappily too," Little Le'an whispered, touching his furrowed brow. "Just like you."
Little Le Jia tilted his head.
He had seen Auntie sleeping before—in that icy-cold room he and his sister used to stay in.
She… had never once complained about the cold.
But if he and his sister had shivered there, then Auntie must have been freezing too. That’s why she couldn’t sleep well.
This time, Le Qing didn’t catch the twins’ whispers. The idea of them telling her a story had never crossed her mind, so after a brief pause, she shook her head. "I don’t need a story."
Just as she stood up, a tiny, soft hand grabbed her finger.
Little Le Jia had half-climbed over to reach her.
"That’s what I always say too," he reasoned, applying his own childish logic to adults. "But I still want to hear one."
Le Qing recalled his earlier theatrics.
"I really don’t—"
"I’m good at it," Little Le Jia said solemnly. "Better than you."
With that, he flipped open the picture book she had set aside, sat up straight, and patted the spot where she had been sitting. "Sit."
For a moment, Le Qing truly saw a glimpse of a prodigy in this little boy.
Before she could refuse, he launched into the first tale: "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in a very, very big castle..."
The child’s grasp of language was impressive. Le Qing blinked in surprise, and before she knew it, she had settled back into her seat, actually listening to his words.
What a strange, new feeling.
"Auntie, Brother tells good stories, right?" Little Le'an had wriggled out of the blankets and now leaned against her.
The little boy’s voice faltered for a second. Though he didn’t look up, his fingers tensed slightly on the book.
Le Qing smiled. "Yes. Really good."
Little Le Jia straightened his back even more. "I’ll learn more stories."
She chuckled but didn’t respond further. Encouragement would help them grow more confident—and honestly, he was better than her.
But… she couldn’t bring herself to imagine there would be more moments like this.
Looking back on her twenty-some years, bedtime had always been a paradox—both a relief and a struggle.
A relief because she could finally rest.
A struggle because without sunlight or lamplight, the world turned dark and silent, cutting her off again. Only sleep brought respite.
But tonight was different. For the first time, the darkness outside the window seemed tinged with the warmth of nightlights.
Leaning back against the headboard, she found herself thinking that children’s stories really were quite lovely. Slowly, the little boy’s voice grew softer… and softer…
At some point, Le Qing’s posture slackened. She slid down the headboard, her head coming to rest against Little Le'an’s as they both drifted off.
Meanwhile, Little Le Jia, still clutching the book, had long succumbed to sleep, sprawled comfortably over his pillow.
-
The next morning, Le Qing woke up with a stiff and sore neck. As she instinctively tried to move, she realized something was pressing against her wrist. She shifted slightly, only for her hand to be held even tighter.
It took her two seconds to process the situation before her eyes snapped open.
Right in front of her was a plump, delicate little face. The little girl was still fast asleep, her hair a messy tangle over her cheeks, her chin resting on Le Qing’s arm while her tiny hands clung tightly to her.
Glancing further back, she noticed the child’s small foot draped over her older brother’s shoulder.
Meanwhile, Little Le Jia was curled up like a caterpillar, his sleeping posture bizarrely unique.
Le Qing froze, unable to recall how she had fallen asleep the night before. Minutes passed before the buzzing of her phone snapped her out of her daze, reminding her it was time to make breakfast.
She carefully extracted her hand, prompting a displeased whimper from Little Le'an, who mumbled something incoherent in her sleep.
Le Qing tilted her head slightly, catching the faint murmur of "Auntie."
She paused, then softly responded, unsure if the child had even heard her.
As she was about to leave, she noticed the miniature cameras still hanging around the children’s necks. It all came back to her—she had come to retrieve the cameras last night but ended up dozing off while listening to their stories.
Since it wasn’t yet time for the kids to wake, Le Qing tiptoed over and gently removed the cameras.
Sleepy children were unexpectedly clingy, and without the usual whirlwind of their little schemes, Le Qing felt an odd sense of peace.
When one of them drowsily nuzzled her hand, she merely glanced down, lightly brushing the child’s cheek before patting their heads, lulling them back into slumber.
After leaving the room and freshening up, Le Qing started cooking porridge and pulled out her laptop to transfer the footage from the cameras. She had promised the kids she’d edit and share the videos, and she intended to keep her word.
The clips were lengthy, so she needed to filter them before letting the children decide which parts to keep.
The two recordings were largely similar, just from slightly different angles. The footage was shaky, and if the kids didn’t look up, her upper body remained mostly out of frame.
It was then that Le Qing noticed something—despite their usual reserved interactions, the children kept glancing her way while playing.
Strangely, it gave her the illusion that she, too, was being cherished.
Since arriving in this world, Le Qing hadn’t thought much about the children calling her "Auntie." To her, it was just a title, no different from a name.
But seeing herself through their lens, hearing them call out "Auntie" over and over, sent an inexplicable tremor through her heart.
As they lay together in bed, the sound of the child’s storytelling filled the room, and she watched herself gradually inching closer to Little Le'an.
Her spine stiffened when she caught an unfamiliar expression on her own face—genuine happiness, even something akin to tender absorption.
Le Qing was momentarily stunned.
"Auntie~"
A soft, childish voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her hand twitched as she turned to see Little Le'an, now awake, rubbing her eyes and toddling over.
After last night, the little girl had grown even more attached to her aunt. Oblivious to Le Qing’s unease, she clambered onto her lap. "What’s Auntie looking at? I heard Gege’s voice."
Le Qing’s hands hovered awkwardly over the desk, loosely encircling the child to keep her from slipping.
"Videos," she murmured. "The ones you two filmed last night."
"Oh~" Little Le'an spotted herself sleeping beside her aunt and beamed. "Auntie is Sleeping Beauty! I wanna sleep with Auntie again!"
She even attempted to bargain: "Can we listen to Gege’s stories every night?"
Little Le Jia, now awake, puffed up with pride. Not only could he lull his sister to sleep, but he’d also managed to do the same for his aunt. He strode over confidently and declared, "I’ll do it."
"..." Le Qing scratched her nose, opting to change the subject. "The videos are ready. Let’s decide which parts to keep."
"I want all of them!" Little Le'an chirped.
"They’re too long," Le Qing countered. "Some parts aren’t necessary."
With guidance from their "System Uncle," Little Le Jia had a better grasp of these things. He dragged over a chair, climbed up, and scrutinized the screen with solemnity. "Here, and here."
The selected clips featured him mimicking the talking dictionary in the kitchen and later telling stories—moments where he felt his knowledge and ability to soothe his sister and aunt would win people over.
Le Qing frowned slightly.
Both segments had captured her face, and she had no intention of appearing in the children’s videos.
For one, she would eventually leave, and if she were recognized later, it might complicate things for the kids. Their father probably wouldn’t approve either.
She nodded, but when editing the footage, she made sure to crop herself out.
The kids only realized their aunt was missing from the final cut afterward, their faces scrunched in confusion.
Le Qing didn’t delve into the complicated reasons, simply stating, "I don’t like being on camera."
Though they didn’t fully understand, the children didn’t press further.
The day the video was posted, some netizens who had followed Little Le Jia after his previous clip stumbled upon it.
[Holy—I thought the last video was edited, but nope! These kids really are sculpted by the hands of Nuwa herself! Don’t worry, kiddo, Auntie’s got your back—I’ll spread the word!]
[This angle makes the little sister even cuter! Damn it, hand over my babies and wire me 20K while you’re at it!]
[Alright, kids, say goodbye to your honorary auntie. I’m claiming you now.]
[This is my sign to finally have kids. I want these two. Address, please.]
[Is the aunt babysitting for the mom? This is the most patient, gentle auntie I’ve seen on Douyin—zero frustration!]
[Or maybe she’s just not that close to them yet?]
[The aunt being roped into storytelling is hilarious. Reluctant participant, but her voice is so soothing.]
[This is kinda backwards, but it’s also heartwarming as heck!]
Meanwhile, at the Lin Family estate, Lin Shengxi had been lying low after being caught using his sister’s name to invite a bunch of influencers to the manor. His family had forced him to attend endless business banquets as punishment.
"You’re a grown man with no sense of responsibility. Look at your peers—how did our family end up with a wastrel like you?" Lin's Father lamented.
Slouched on the couch with a drink in hand, Lin Shengxi absently scrolled through his phone, muttering, "Yeah, yeah."
On his screen was the video of the two little Le children. He’d kept tabs on them ever since Le Qing left the manor.
But despite her usual pretentious antics, Le Qing’s background was oddly clean—too clean. He couldn’t figure out how she’d gone bankrupt or suddenly acquired two kids.
Weird.
Though her face wasn’t visible, he recognized her voice from the video—the same detached tone he’d heard at the manor, except now laced with what netizens called "gentleness."
Even weirder.
Lin's Father scolded irritably, "What’s so fascinating about that damn phone of yours? Got some treasure hidden in there?"
"Of course it’s a treasure," Lin Shengxi replied offhandedly.
Lin's Father ignored his nonsensical remark, assuming it was just another internet celebrity. His gaze shifted to the side, and he suddenly kicked his son. "Get up and greet our guest!"
"What guest?" Lin Shengxi grumbled as he reluctantly looked up. His eyes froze the moment they landed on the man walking through the door.
As someone who idled through life, Lin Shengxi rarely interacted with elite types—they usually looked down on each other anyway. But this man stood out. He’d heard the rumors in their circles about the Jiang family’s prodigy, a legend who’d risen from street thug to the pinnacle of corporate power.
The man was only 26, dressed in a perfectly tailored gray suit, a black overcoat accentuating his tall, lean frame. The gold-rimmed glasses perched on his high nose bridge softened his otherwise sharp, intimidating aura, lending him an air of refined detachment. His thin lips held a barely-there smirk, as if amused, yet it carried an undercurrent of chilling authority.
Jiang Suizhi.
Even someone as reckless as Lin Shengxi had to rein it in around Jiang Suizhi. After all, this man wasn’t just any elite—he was the real deal, someone who’d clawed his way up from the streets.
Their families had some ties, so even if they weren’t close, basic social decorum had to be observed. Lin Shengxi pocketed his phone and stood up.
The man across from him stopped at a polite distance. Lin Shengxi had heard about Jiang Suizhi’s notorious germaphobia—an unspoken rule everyone knew.
Jiang Suizhi gave a slight nod to Lin's Father, his voice carrying a hint of cold from outside. "Uncle Lin."
"Long time no see, Suizhi." Lin's Father nudged Lin Shengxi forward. "This is my youngest, Lin Shengxi. You’ve probably met before. Maybe you can take him under your wing—teach him a thing or two instead of letting him waste time on nonsense."
Jiang Suizhi hummed in acknowledgment. "I recall him vaguely."
"What nonsense?" Lin Shengxi bristled.
He hated being compared to others, and defiance flared in him. Glancing at Jiang Suizhi, he deliberately held out his phone and said, "Bro, it’s seriously adorable. Melted my heart. Wanna take a look?"
Jiang Suizhi: "..."
