◎Being a Domineering CEO is Thrilling◎
Le Qing stood up and walked around the table to the two little ones. Seeing that the younger sister was really about to slide down from her brother's lap, she had no choice but to bend down and lift the child up. Noticing that the little one's clothes were getting caught around her neck, she adjusted her grip, sliding her hands under the child's armpits to carry her off the stool.
Beside her, Pei Yu suddenly asked, "How long have you been taking care of them?"
[Less than half a month.]
That’s what Le Qing thought in her heart, but what she said was, "Three years."
The little sister, who had just been lifted off the stool by her aunt, blinked twice in confusion.
How could Auntie lie?
Though she didn’t have a clear grasp of time, she knew she was three years old, and Auntie had been with her for what felt like forever.
"Doesn’t seem like it," Pei Yu observed her movements. "You look a bit inexperienced."
Though the children had picture books and audio learning devices, the truth was, this household lacked many everyday essentials typical of families with kids—toys and other daily necessities were usually piled up everywhere.
Le Qing glanced down at her hands.
Not only had she never held a child before, she’d never held anyone in her life. It was all pure instinct—there was no such thing as being "inexperienced" or "skilled."
"Just personal habit," she replied.
Pei Yu didn’t press further and instead went to prepare the ingredients for the cake, leaving Le Qing to continue editing videos.
Meanwhile, the two little ones, not getting a response from their aunt, returned to the small sofa where they played with their audio learning device, curling up under a blanket.
Little Le’an tugged at her own hair worriedly. "What if Auntie never learns?"
A small hand reached out to stop her. Little Le Jia frowned. "Don’t pull. You don’t have much hair."
"I do! I have more hair than you!" Little Le’an protested. "It’s growing!"
Other little girls had long hair, but Le’an’s had always been short because Auntie used to find it annoying to tie up, so she’d cut it regularly.
But for some reason, Auntie hadn’t mentioned cutting it lately, and Le’an had been keeping quiet, hoping her hair wouldn’t be trimmed again.
Little Le Jia finally noticed—his sister’s hair used to never go past her ears, but now it had grown past them. Was Auntie really not going to cut it?
"Shh, brother." Little Le’an pressed a finger to her lips. "Anan wants little pigtails."
"Fine." Little Le Jia decided to help his sister keep this secret.
But then again, being just as illiterate as her, he had no idea what was really going on. So, he turned to their system uncle for help.
The system naturally wouldn’t read out the harsh comments to the kids. After hearing Le Qing’s words, it finally relented: "Some people misunderstood her. They said she wasn’t treating you well."
Little Le Jia was puzzled. "Who?"
They stayed home with Auntie every day—they hadn’t heard anyone say anything.
"People online," the system explained. "But she’ll handle it."
"No, she won’t." Little Le’an puffed her cheeks after hearing the explanation. "Auntie isn’t as obedient as Anan."
She never said when she was being bullied.
But Little Le Jia had an idea. "I know what to do."
He pulled out his phone, wedging it into the sofa’s crevice, then peeked over at the camera settings. After a quick glance to make sure Auntie wasn’t watching, he tapped on a special effect.
The next second, two alien-like, pointy faces appeared on the cracked screen.
One of the little faces scrunched up, tiny hands on hips. "Brother, Auntie said this doesn’t look good."
"Shh." Little Le Jia hadn’t used this effect in ages—he’d been saving up points for something else. But this video wasn’t about pleasing anyone, so he wanted to indulge a little.
Just to satisfy that tiny bit of vanity.
"I kept your secret," he pointed at his sister’s hair. "Now you keep mine."
This put Little Le’an in a dilemma.
She loved her hair, but she really didn’t think her brother looked good like this.
"You want to be a pretty princess," Little Le Jia coaxed. "I want to be a cool little dude. We’re the same."
The little sister was convinced.
Well, her brother didn’t like her sparkly shoes either—she wasn’t going to argue with him over this.
"So what do I do?"
Victorious, her brother crawled over and sat beside her. "Repeat after me."
"Okay!"
While the two were busy with their own things, the system didn’t stop them. In fact, it approved—the effect was amusing, and it quite liked it.
Besides, if the misunderstandings about Le Qing continued, it would eventually affect the children too.
The system’s achievement points relied on netizens’ affection for the kids. But now, the comment section of what should’ve been a promising video was flooded with hate, cancel culture running rampant. The backlash and likes were canceling each other out, drastically reducing the redeemable points.
This meant previously unlocked opportunities might be revoked.
Once the kids posted the video, the system softened the news before relaying it: "But don’t worry. Once your aunt posts her clarification, the next one should be redeemable."
"Huh?" The two little ones weren’t actually that upset.
After all, they weren’t starving anymore—they could study, eat questionable little cakes, and life was much, much better than before.
It was just a shame they couldn’t help Auntie earn money this time.
"Uncle," Little Le Jia asked, "next time, can we find something that includes grown-ups too?"
"You mean opportunities?" The system’s tone flattened. "I’m your system, not hers. She’s an adult—she has hands and won’t starve."
Though Le Qing spent lavishly, the inheritance left by the kids’ mother ensured she was never in debt.
Even if she tightened her purse strings now, she wouldn’t be destitute.
The system existed only in Little Le Jia’s mind and had no insight into Le Qing’s actions.
All it knew was that she’d sold off many luxury items secondhand, taken on numerous influencer gigs before, and had been frugal lately. The money should still be there—it just didn’t know what she’d done with it.
Besides, if it remembered correctly, Le Qing had a college degree. Why didn’t she use it to find a proper job instead of tagging along with the kids?
Truth was, Le Qing had considered using the original owner’s diploma. But the major was too specialized—she had zero knowledge or experience in it. Starting from scratch in that field would be pointless.
As for non-related jobs, sure, she could try. But with millions in debt, the payoff would be too slow. Honestly, modeling paid faster.
She knew clearing the debt was nearly impossible, but within her limits, she wanted to repay as much as she could.
After the two children were picked up, she considered finding a stable job—just enough to sustain their daily lives.
The exchange value for "Wanwan" was gone, so Little Le Jia could only ask, "Uncle, what can we exchange for now?"
The system replied, "Featured extras."
The two children together would only earn two or three thousand a day, but it was still an opportunity.
The two little ones were baffled. What was that?
"Like acting on TV?" Little Le'an said with certainty, "Auntie could do that! People on TV are all pretty."
The system sighed. "Your aunt has her own things to handle. Besides, featured extras are roles only you two fit."
Hearing this, the children simultaneously sighed. "Adults have it so hard."
Meanwhile, Le Qing had just received a call from the advertiser she had worked with before.
"Those videos were taken out of context," Le Qing explained the situation clearly. "I’ll post the full edited version online soon. Besides, this is my responsibility—it has nothing to do with the children."
"We’re really sorry, Ms. Le," the advertiser said helplessly. "We know online rumors can be baseless, but we’re a small business with tight margins. Even if you’re innocent and framed, the damage these past two days is real. We specialize in children’s food—we can’t afford too much risk."
"Besides, you’re their guardian. You’re all in this together, and the video editing is your responsibility, right?"
Even if she clarified things, some would still accuse her of staging this for attention or manipulating the footage.
The impact wouldn’t be the same as before.
The matter was settled. Le Qing glanced toward the sofa, where the two children were peeking at her over the backrest.
A surge of anger rose in her chest. She could brush off slander and online hate directed at herself, but this time, it affected the children—they had been so excited about this ad.
And… they’d even wanted to include her.
The intensity of her emotions surprised her. She hadn’t felt this furious in years.
"I’ll still post the video," Le Qing said, schooling her expression so the children wouldn’t notice. "According to the contract, we’re not at fault, so the deposit won’t be refunded."
"Of course, of course."
"And if you collaborate with my children again in the future, the fee will be 1.5 times the original rate."
The advertiser chuckled on the other end. "Don’t worry, Ms. Le. We understand the rules."
But after this incident, who would hire them again?
They barely gained traction before trouble struck—who knew what else might happen?
After hanging up, Le Qing sat motionless for several minutes, unaware of the children creeping up to her.
Until something flickered in her vision. "Auntie~"
Her focus returned to see the two kids taking turns bouncing in front of her.
First the brother, then the sister, waving their little hands to snap her out of it.
The brother was fine, but the sister’s hair had grown a bit long—when she jumped, it flopped like a mushroom cap.
Le Qing had once seen this hairstyle on a neighbor’s TV.
Dora the Explorer.
"What is it?"
"Here!" The little Dora jumped again, opening her palm to reveal a tiny candy.
It was from the grocery store days ago—one for each of them. They still hadn’t eaten them?
"For me?" Le Qing asked hesitantly.
Little Le Jia nodded. "When sister needs cheering up, I give her candy. She smiles."
He never ate his candy, saving it for moments like this.
But this time, Auntie was upset, so he’d share one with her!
"Brother and I will cheer you up together," Little Le'an said, tiptoeing to push her candy toward Le Qing as well.
For a moment, Le Qing’s chest tightened, her mind slowing. It took her a while to find her voice. "I don’t need cheering up."
She avoided looking at the candies. "There’s something I need to tell you."
"Mm-hmm!"
Le Qing had always been straightforward, but disappointing them now felt unbearable.
She couldn’t bear to see the disappointment cloud their bright eyes.
"That ad…" She stiffly licked her lips, pushing the candies back. "Because of some issues, you won’t be able to continue. Maybe you should cheer yourselves up instead?"
"Oh!"
The children’s calm reaction startled Le Qing.
"Oh?"
What did that mean?
"Auntie, is that why you’re upset?" Little Le'an rested her chin on the chair.
"I’m not upset."
"Tsk." Little Le'an tapped her chin against the chair. "Auntie always lies."
Heat rushed to Le Qing’s face, her toes curling slightly.
"It’s okay." Little Le Jia cupped his sister’s chin and patted Le Qing’s hand like a responsible little man. "Sister and I can eat our fill. We don’t have to film."
Le Qing asked, "But didn’t you like it?"
"Like?" Little Le Jia looked puzzled. "Like what?"
The ads?
Le Qing realized her mistake. "You didn’t like filming the ads?"
Little Le Jia shook his head, then nodded.
"Money."
A very practical answer.
"Money makes us happy!" Little Le'an chimed in.
Le Qing thought, Money makes everyone happy.
The problem was, not everyone had it.
"Then what do you like doing?" she asked.
This stumped the two little ones. They didn’t even know what "liking" something meant yet.
"Happy means like!" Little Le Jia declared. "We like studying, eating, and storytime!"
After a pause, he scrunched his nose. "Auntie’s cake… kinda like."
"..." Le Qing rubbed her forehead. "Alright, no need to elaborate."
Since the kids weren’t upset, she felt much lighter. She quickly exported the edited video. "I’ll send yesterday’s footage. Can you post it from your phone later?"
"Okay!"
They weren’t skilled at much, but posting videos? Experts.
The children sat on either side of Le Qing as she guided Little Le Jia through uploading the video.
Suddenly, a sweet fruity scent reached her nose. Thinking Pei Yu had brought something over, she turned—only for something cold to press against her lips.
Just like last time when she was fed cake, the little one acted first and asked later, pushing the candy straight into her mouth.
No avoiding it now.
Le Qing accepted the candy, meeting the child’s sparkling, gentle eyes.
For a moment, she was lost in that gaze.
"It's sweet." Little Le'an, nearly half her body sprawled across the table, peeled another candy, doing her best to contribute to the household. "An'an can't do this, but An'an will cheer for Auntie and Brother. Brother, eat it!"
Little Le Jia refused, of course. These candies were meant to coax Auntie.
"Every time, it's always An'an eating. Brother and Auntie never do." Little Le'an pouted unhappily. "Next time, An'an won't eat either."
Only then did Le Qing realize that Little Le Jia had been saving the candies all along. She took the candy from the little one and held it to her brother’s lips. "Our family isn’t so poor that we can’t afford candy for you. If you like them, I’ll buy more—enough for everyone."
"Then will you buy some for yourself too?" Little Le Jia turned to ask.
"I’m an adult. I don’t eat candy."
"Then what do you eat?" Little Le Jia pressed on. "Buy something you like, and we’ll all eat together."
Le Qing had no choice but to explain. "I don’t have anything I particularly like. I can eat anything."
"Hmph." Little Le Jia mumbled around the candy in his mouth. "You teach me and Sister, but you don’t know anything yourself."
"That’s right!" Little Le'an covered her mouth, giggling. "Auntie is so big, but she doesn’t even know what she likes!"
Le Qing had no retort. She could only sigh and shut her laptop, deciding to go learn how to bake a cake. Just then, her elbow bumped into something—Little Le Jia’s phone, its screen still lit, slid to the next video.
Suddenly, the intense beat of a drum-heavy song blared out, accompanied by the familiar lyrics of "MISS YOU." Le Qing turned her head slowly.
Little Le Jia scrambled to turn off the phone, but the screen was too large for his tiny hands.
Le Qing saw the "brand-new" footage—this time, a double feature. Despite the abundance of roses and snowflake effects, she could still recognize the "crime scene" as their living room.
She caught Little Le Jia’s wriggling fingers. "Newly filmed?"
Little Le Jia’s voice grew smaller. "Mhm… yeah…"
"Didn’t I delete your favorites list—" Before Le Qing could finish, the voices from the video cut her off.
This time, it wasn’t the exaggerated hand-waving or off-key singing of lyrics they barely understood. It was the children’s real voices.
First, Little Le Jia: "Auntie is really good to us! Your turn, one, two, three—"
Then Little Le'an repeated after him.
"This is mine and Sister’s video. Auntie helps us film, cooks for us, and listens to our stories. We can’t read, so don’t say bad things about Auntie here. Just say the last line, okay? One, two, three—"
Little Le'an obediently followed.
"Strange people, don’t say strange things for me and Sister, and don’t say them here either. We can’t read, so we’d think you like us!" Little Le Jia added, "We haven’t learned how to comfort grown-ups yet."
"Brother, should we give Auntie candy? I still have some!"
"I have some too. Let’s go quietly."
"We have to say goodbye first," Little Le Jia lectured. "The talking book says we should be polite."
They didn’t know how to edit videos, so everything from start to finish was recorded—including Little Le Jia making his sister promise to keep a secret and teaching her how to clarify things.
No technical skill whatsoever, but every word came straight from the heart.
By the time the video started replaying, Le Qing finally released Little Le Jia’s hand at the mention of the secret. "When did you film this?"
Caught red-handed, Little Le Jia pointed sheepishly at the sofa. "Just now."
Le Qing’s mind was a mess, but she managed to ask, "Who told you people were saying strange things?"
"Mm." Little Le Jia carefully paused the video. "Some of the expressions… I didn’t like them."
Little Le'an stepped in as peacemaker. "If Auntie doesn’t like it, I’ll tell Brother to delete it. Don’t be mad."
"I—" Le Qing watched as Little Le Jia expertly navigated to delete the video and stopped him.
Under the child’s nervous gaze, she gently squeezed his fingers.
"I like it," she said softly. "I really do. Thank you."
It was the first time the children had ever heard their aunt say she liked something. Their eyes lit up instantly.
"Then can I film like this again?" Little Le Jia’s confidence surged. "There are so many more effects!"
These two always knew how to ruin a touching moment with a swift reality check. Le Qing exhaled in amusement. "The effects are an exception."
But now, she hesitated about her earlier stance.
"Do you really like those effects that much?"
Little Le Jia wasn’t sure if he should nod, but then his aunt added, "If you truly like them, then… I suppose it’s okay to use them."
She had never expected the children to make money from these videos. Her only wish was for them to have fun. If Little Le Jia enjoyed the effects, then maybe she could tolerate them—as long as she kept an eye out to ensure he wasn’t influenced by questionable trends.
"Then can I—"
"No, you can’t." The system’s voice cut in abruptly.
Little Le Jia blinked. "Huh?"
"Jia Bao." The system sounded reluctant but resigned. "In some areas… we do fall short. Hobbies are hobbies, and achievement points are achievement points. They can’t be compared."
Le Qing’s video style had indeed gained more popularity than the ones it and his brother had chosen.
"You can film for fun if you like," it conceded. "But not like that."
"Okay." Little Le Jia hesitated before asking, "Uncle System, do Sister and I really have to stick to this style? With Auntie here, we’ll have plenty of other things too."
This time, the system didn’t waver. "Yes."
"Le Jia," it said, "when you grow up, you’ll understand—only when something is in your hands do you have the right to decide."
Little Le Jia didn’t quite grasp the system’s philosophical reasoning.
"I’ll use yours," he told his aunt.
"I thought you didn’t like it?"
"I do." Little Le Jia pondered. He really did like both. "I like the effects, but I also like the ones you film."
His favorite part was rewatching their daily life recordings—it felt like reliving the moments, doubling the joy.
"Then how about this?" Le Qing proposed a compromise. "I’ll keep editing your videos, and if you want to use effects in your free time, you can. Sound good?"
If he had a tail, Little Le Jia would’ve wagged it furiously.
"Okay, okay!" Overcome with excitement, he threw his arms around his aunt.
The sudden hug stiffened Le Qing’s posture. It took her a few seconds to clear her throat. "I’ll go make your cake now."
"Are you really going to make it?" Little Le'an bumped her head against the table’s edge a few times. "Do we… have to eat this cake?"
She deeply regretted her earlier greed.
"Don’t worry," Little Le Jia reassured her. "Auntie Doctor is home!"
She peeked out again, covering her mouth: "Give her some face."
Le Qing: "..."
Without hesitation, she pulled the child out of her embrace.
"Yeah, the doctor auntie is home." Pei Yu, standing in the kitchen, couldn't help but laugh along. "Looking at it this way, you're the one who seems like the child."
"What?"
"Don’t you notice?" Pei Yu said. "There’s this strange harmony between you—the child comforting the adult, while the adult doesn’t know how to comfort the child."
Le Qing silently glanced over.
"Well, it’s not exactly that she can’t." Pei Yu, having spent a lot of time around children, knew how parents usually interacted with them. That’s why Le Qing stood out. "You treat kids like they’re adults."
Le Qing lowered her head and tapped on her phone a few times before asking, "Isn’t that how it should be?"
Though she wouldn’t admit it, that was indeed how she behaved.
"Of course not." Pei Yu said. "I don’t have kids myself, but I’ve already picked up a lot of childish speech habits."
Le Qing slowed her scrolling slightly. "Speech habits?"
"Like unconsciously making your voice higher, stretching two-syllable words into three, or doubling them up." Pei Yu shared her experience. "For example, instead of 'eat,' you say 'eat-eat,' 'drink milk' becomes 'drink milky,' 'sleep-sleep,' 'good baby'..."
"And when kids are little, they naturally crave closeness and dependence on adults. So you need to give them enough physical affection to let them know the bond is strong."
Le Qing thought to herself—there wasn’t that deep of a bond, and it was better if it stayed that way.
"Otherwise, kids might think the adult doesn’t love them."
This time, Le Qing couldn’t find a rebuttal. She turned to look at the two children, who had already developed a habit—whenever their aunt entered the kitchen, they’d grab their picture books and reading pens and follow her.
They wanted to sit by the kitchen door to keep their aunt company!
"See?" Pei Yu said. "This is their instinctive dependence in action."
Le Qing opened her mouth to speak but swallowed her words again.
Pei Yu noticed she wasn’t fully focused, seemingly browsing someone’s profile, endlessly scrolling through videos. "What are you looking at?"
Le Qing didn’t avoid the question, but she didn’t elaborate either. "Just browsing."
But Pei Yu recognized a face in one of the videos. "Isn’t this person a patient at our hospital?"
Le Qing paused. "You know her?"
"A patient," Pei Yu said. "She just gave birth and is still hospitalized. At first, her in-laws refused to let her get an epidural. Then when she had a difficult delivery, they still insisted on a natural birth. In the end, they had no choice but to do a C-section. She suffered terribly."
Mentioning this made Pei Yu sigh. "Her in-laws were disappointed it was a girl. Half the time, they don’t even show up. Only her husband is there, but when her anesthesia hadn’t worn off and the baby kept crying, he couldn’t handle it and kept calling for the nurses. Now that things have settled a bit, they argue constantly. Other patients have complained so much the hospital had to move the roommate to another ward. Now they’ve got a private room, but the nurses have to run back and forth all day. Who knows how they’ll raise the kid once they’re home? Sometimes I wonder why people like this even have children. What did the child do to deserve this... Why aren’t you saying anything?"
"Hm?" Le Qing absentmindedly bit down on the last remnants of candy in her mouth, only stopping when a faint sweetness spread across her tongue. She exited the profile and locked her phone. "So they’re still in the hospital?"
"Yes," Pei Yu said. "Three more days."
"Which room? I need to ask them something."
"You’re looking for them?"
"Yeah." Le Qing glanced at the two children and lowered her voice further. "They’re the ones who posted the video."
Hearing this, Pei Yu wanted to curse. "That man, right? Always filming everything with his phone, but never paying that much attention to his own kid. Later, I’ll take you to him."
After settling this matter, Le Qing remembered she still needed to reply to Lin Jian.
Considering her current online reputation and the message from that merchant earlier, she felt she owed Lin Jian some responsibility. So she replied: "There might be some negative news about me recently, but I’ve already posted the full video. You can decide whether to work with me after you’ve seen it."
Truthfully, she didn’t need to say it. Ever since Lin Jian stumbled upon the video of the two kids online—and noticing Jiang Suizhi’s inexplicable interest in them—she had kept an eye on the situation and knew what had happened.
Right now, she was watching the full video that had been posted later.
Given her first impression of Le Qing, she found the second video more credible. Of course, Lin Jian was part of the photography world and had shot many celebrities before, so she knew exactly how online public opinion could twist things.
Still, she was surprised by Le Qing’s honesty. In the past, whether celebrities had scandals or not—real or fake—they’d always try to hide the negative news or push for the collaboration regardless.
This was the first time she’d heard someone willing to call off a deal over something so minor, especially someone as financially strapped as Le Qing seemed to be.
Lin Jian called her, laughing. "I thought it was something serious. This kind of small drama doesn’t affect me. We’ll proceed as originally planned."
Honestly, Le Qing did feel relieved. She knew that working with Lin Jian could elevate her career, giving her a higher starting point.
But she also understood that the higher you climb, the harder you fall. Right now, she couldn’t afford that risk, so even the smallest potential issue had to be addressed.
"Thank you," she said. "But can we delay the shoot for a few days? I want to resolve this matter first."
Lin Jian didn’t see the need. "Didn’t you already post the clarification video?"
"Yeah." Le Qing turned away, her voice softening. "But because of this, my kids lost something they really liked. I need to make it right for them."
If it were anyone else, they’d say—what do three-year-olds even understand?
Lin Jian didn’t fully get it, but she didn’t object. "Need any help?"
"I can handle it myself." Le Qing didn’t want others getting involved and owing more favors. "Thank you."
"Alright." After hanging up, Lin Jian thought about it and called Jiang Suizhi to update him, letting him know the schedule would be pushed back a few days so he could adjust his plans.
Jiang Suizhi was currently reviewing the documents Lin Shengxi had dug up about Le Qing. He acknowledged with a quiet "Hm."
A few seconds later, he asked calmly, "Were the kids affected?"
"How could they be?" Lin Jian said. "The issue started with Le Qing, but I think there might be some misunderstanding."
"Thanks."
The office fell silent again.
Lin Shengxi didn’t dare breathe too loudly. The way Jiang Suizhi was reading those files—like they were critical work documents—his expression growing darker by the minute, was downright terrifying.
"Actually, she should have changed a bit by now," Lin Shengxi tried to explain.
Jiang Suizhi's voice was cold and stern: "Quiet."
Okay, fine. You're noble, you're amazing.
Hah, times have changed—traditional domineering CEOs won’t come to a good end!
Just don’t come bowing your proud head to me later!
There was no record of Le Qing’s past, but every move she’d made in the last three years was crystal clear.
Lin Shengxi’s connections were indeed extensive—he’d even dug up how Le Qing had secretly latched onto a few rich second-generation heirs, along with photos of her posing with influencers. If not for the same face, no one would believe the person in the photos and the one in the videos were the same.
It had to be said, Lin Shengxi had a knack for business—his statistical breakdowns were impeccable.
The number of people who called her fake, materialistic, or pretentious was all laid out clearly. Not a single positive word was associated with her—well, except for one.
At least no one thought Le Qing was unattractive.
Even Jiang Suizhi, who prided himself on his rationality, couldn’t figure out why this was the case.
But one thing he was certain of:
These two children were undeniably connected to Jiang Yan. Their looks, age, and association with Le Qing—all three factors matched.
As for Le Qing herself, she needed further observation.
He opened his phone. Ever since Lin Shengxi mentioned the children, he’d downloaded a short-video app and followed their account.
He hadn’t had time to watch the two new videos posted today.
Hmm… now add one more thing to the list.
Their baffling taste in aesthetics—exactly like Jiang Yan’s.
From the children’s perspective, Jiang Suizhi could only see their protectiveness toward Le Qing. The next video was a record of their hospital visit and the events leading up to it.
This time, the editing didn’t deliberately cut out faces, so Le Qing’s expressions were fully visible.
There was something almost ethereal and detached about her.
The comments section quickly shifted in tone.
[Okay, now it’s obvious whether the kids like their aunt or not, right?]
[And it’s clear who’s filming the videos—the style difference is too stark. If it were me, I’d stop the kids from copying this weird trend too.]
[Listen to your aunt, stop filming—your godmother’s eyes hurt.]
[You little dorks! What are you doing to those faces of yours?!]
Wait—aunt?
Jiang Suizhi scrolled through the comments again and realized the children did indeed refer to Le Qing as "aunt."
Had she tried to hide her familial ties to chase rich heirs in the past?
Or… had the children become a burden to her?
[If I didn’t like an adult, I wouldn’t linger by the kitchen door, sneaking glances, or force myself to eat cake even if it made me gag.]
[LMAO I can’t help but laugh—the aunt’s horrified face while also gagging is weirdly adorable.]
[Who said she was abusive? The aunt ate the cake too, and she didn’t look too good either.]
[From what the kids said, the aunt’s been enduring pain while taking care of them, huh? Look how heartbroken they were seeing her get an IV.]
Hearing the familiar voices of the children, Lin Shengxi, who had been sitting in the corner, suddenly jumped up. "Suizhi, I knew it! One of the classic toxic traits of domineering CEOs—acting all aloof when you’re actually invested."
Jiang Suizhi ignored his nonsense. "From now on, your job is them."
"Who? These two kids?"
"Mn." After a pause, he added, "And Le Qing."
Lin Shengxi rubbed his hands together, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "What’s the mission, boss?"
He loved this kind of secretive, thrilling work—the drama of wealthy families. His own family had none, but others certainly did!
"Protect these two children. Use whatever resources you need from me. Monitor their daily lives, psychological state, and report to me every day. Solve any problems they encounter immediately, and notify me at critical moments." Jiang Suizhi lifted his gaze. "But until I say otherwise, no one is to reveal themselves to them—not a single hint."
"Got it, got it." Lin Shengxi made an OK sign. "Covert and heroic."
"..."
"What about this person? Should we keep an eye on them?" Lin Shengxi asked. "Winter’s coming—time for this rumor-monger to go bankrupt."
"..." Jiang Suizhi stared at him silently for a few seconds before, for the first time, indulging in the kind of advice Lin’s father had always hoped he’d give. "Watch less brain-rotting content."
Then he added, "This person is easy to track down. See if they need any help."
Lin Shengxi scoffed internally. Oh, Mr. High-and-Mighty, look who’s talking.
Le Qing acted decisively. That very night, she followed Pei Yu to the hospital.
With no one to watch the children at home, she brought them along, though she temporarily asked Pei Yu to keep an eye on them.
Armed with his new "imperial decree," Lin Shengxi arrived at the hospital with four bodyguards in tow—just in time to see Le Qing standing outside a hospital room door. He raised a hand to stop the others from approaching, then video-called Jiang Suizhi.
Jiang Suizhi was still working overtime. With nothing waiting for him at home and no one expecting his return, he often stayed at the company. He’d even renovated the floor above his office and now lived there most of the time.
When the video call came in, he had just poured himself a drink to suppress his restlessness. His first instinct was to decline, but after a moment’s thought, he answered.
"Shh." Lin Shengxi whispered, "Suizhi, I’ve found Le Qing. The kids aren’t with her—this is your chance to see her true colors."
Jiang Suizhi tapped his fingers lightly, silently approving.
Meanwhile, Le Qing had barely stepped up to the door when she heard a child’s cries inside, followed by a man’s impatient voice: "All you do is cry. Feed it yourself—I’m going for a smoke."
The next second, the door swung open.
The man froze when he saw Le Qing standing there. Of course, he recognized her—he’d filmed and posted a video of her just days ago. Assuming she was here to confront him, he raised an eyebrow.
"Sorry about that. I only filmed half the story that day. As a fellow parent, I panicked and posted it. But don’t worry—after seeing the full context, I deleted it."
His tone held no remorse whatsoever.
But Le Qing wasn’t here for an apology. Without a word, she held up her phone—which had been recording the entire time, including the commotion inside the room.
The man’s face darkened. "What are you doing?"
"Apologize," Le Qing said calmly.
"I already did!"
"To my children." Her voice was steady, her posture unyielding despite the man’s height advantage. "And compensation."
"?" The man gaped. "Are you that desperate? I already deleted the video! What compensation?"
"Because of your misleading edit, my children lost a business collaboration." Le Qing didn’t argue—she simply pulled up the contract with the brand. "This is the financial loss."
Before the man could retort, she added, "Of course, if you refuse, I’ve already contacted a lawyer. They’ll be in touch after I leave."
The man had first ventured into self-media purely for clout and had never encountered a situation like this. Flustered, he forced an apologetic smile and said, "Come on, don’t be like this. I’ll apologize, alright? I’ll apologize to you and your kids. I’ll even post an apology video online later."
Hearing the sound of a baby crying from the hospital room, he added, "I really don’t have that much money. Look, my family just had a baby too—I only did this to make ends meet. Everyone has their struggles, right? With two kids of your own, you should understand my situation even better. Unless… your family’s already well-off, in which case—"
"This is emotional blackmail," Le Qing said with a light laugh. "Whether my family has money or not has nothing to do with whether you compensate us. And your character has nothing to do with whether you’ve had a child."
As the baby’s cries grew louder, her smile turned cold. "Before you try using your child to guilt-trip me, maybe you should first act like a responsible father and husband. From what I’ve heard, you’ve caused quite a few scenes during your stay here. Should I list them one by one?"
"You know better than I do how public opinion works online, don’t you?" Le Qing continued. "And yet, despite knowing the truth, you still chose to exploit us for clicks. How do you even have the nerve to ask for leniency now?"
The man paled. "How did you know—?"
"I didn’t," Le Qing said, her smile vanishing. "But now I do."
"Selfish and stupid," she muttered, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "I want your apology video posted by midnight tonight—not to me, but to my children. And within two weeks, I expect the compensation. If not, prepare for a court summons. And one more thing…"
She glanced at the hospital room, then pointed at the surveillance camera in the hallway. "I won’t delete the footage I have. I hope you’ll step up as decent parents. Otherwise, it’ll remain as your child’s safeguard—forever."
With that, she turned and walked away without another word.
The man gritted his teeth in frustration. The thought of having to cough up so much money—without earning a single cent from this mess—made his blood boil. No way in hell.
He glared in the direction Le Qing had left, but just as he took a step forward, his path was abruptly blocked.
Four towering men in black suits stood before him.
Then, a strikingly handsome young man squeezed between them, his smile razor-sharp. "Mr. Wang, hello. We’re the security team for the young lady who just left. What exactly were you planning to do?"
The man froze mid-step. "What do you want?"
"Nothing much," Lin Shengxi replied cheerfully. "Just making sure you follow through on what she asked. Need a step-by-step guide? My guys would be happy to assist—don’t worry, they’re professionals. They’ve got KPIs to meet."
"…"
What kind of bullshit KPIs were those?!
Trapped, the man had no choice but to let the five of them herd him back into the hospital room to film the apology video—this time, even signing a written promise to pay the compensation.
Lin Shengxi glanced at his phone, where the video call had been disconnected at some point, and exhaled in satisfaction.
He took back every sarcastic thing he’d ever said about arrogant CEOs.
Being a domineering boss?
So damn satisfying.
Praise me.
