Le Qing looked down at the medicine in her hand, struck by the impulse to shove all of it into her mouth and end everything. How had she become a criminal in this mess?
She took a deep breath, steadying herself before feeding the fever-reducing medicine to the child. "Take this first."
[Just give me a little more time to sort through the chaos in my head and figure out how to bring my brother back.]
Little Le'an, who had been secretly observing her aunt's reaction, widened her eyes slightly upon hearing this inner monologue. Auntie was acting really strange today—but why?
Yet her young mind couldn’t dwell on anything too complicated. Afraid her aunt might change her mind, she quickly grabbed Le Qing’s hand and swallowed the medicine, then hurriedly reached for her little purse.
"Auntie, I have money here," she said, holding up her tiny phone. "Can... can we buy Brother back?"
The original owner of this body had never liked taking care of children, seeing them as burdens. She’d given the siblings a phone just to contact her when necessary.
Still, Le Qing was genuinely curious about how much the two kids had managed to save. When she checked, though, she found only a few hundred yuan inside.
She chuckled softly. It seemed the two little ones hadn’t yet started earning much.
But her amusement soon faded into a sigh. How ironic—just a minute ago, she’d had even less money than these two kids.
Placing the phone back under the child’s pillow, Le Qing added, "Don’t show your phone or wallet to anyone from now on, okay?"
Little Le'an nodded half-understandingly, but what stuck with her more was that her aunt didn’t want her money. She and her brother had saved for so long—enough for lots of bread, she’d heard.
"Auntie," she pressed anxiously, "aren’t we buying Brother back?"
Le Qing pulled the blanket over her. "You don’t need to spend your money. Go to sleep."
The child stared at her with wide, pleading eyes, as if on the verge of tears again.
After a brief silence, Le Qing awkwardly mimicked the way people on TV comforted kids, patting the blanket twice. "He’ll come back."
[I heard sick kids are hard to soothe. Please don’t cry.]
Hearing this, Little Le'an squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back unshed tears.
If Brother wasn’t back yet, she couldn’t afford to make Auntie angry.
Le Qing was surprised by how well-behaved the child was. Once the girl fell asleep, she stayed by the bed until the fever broke before finally stepping out.
Passing the bathroom, she paused and turned back to glance in the mirror. Seeing her own familiar face staring back, she couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. The world had truly gone mad.
Yet that familiarity also brought her a strange sense of comfort. At least now she could think clearly about what to do next.
Being transmigrated into a novel was unexpected, but she’d spent her childhood drifting from place to place, adapting to all kinds of environments—though this one was admittedly more "extreme."
Le Qing had always believed that as long as she was alive, she could keep moving forward, even if the path ahead was uncertain.
That was how she’d survived all these years.
She wasn’t good at building relationships with kids, but she wasn’t worried about her strained ties with these two. Eventually, they’d return to their biological father and a loving stepmother. She was just a minor villain in their early story.
Surveying the apartment—a spacious four-bedroom, two-living-room unit in a prime location, far better than her old rented room—she reminded herself that this had been transferred to her name by the twins’ mother. At least she wouldn’t be thrown out penniless. When the time came to part ways, she could earn enough to rent a small place for herself.
For now, her only tasks were to repay the money the original owner had squandered from the twins and ensure they stayed healthy until their father came for them.
But both were near-impossible missions.
As a fresh graduate with no savings, she’d never even seen that kind of money, let alone spent it. She had no idea where to find a job that could help her earn enough before their father showed up.
And the other child had already been sold off by the original owner.
In the novel’s plot, the aunt never bought the boy back. Instead, he pretended to be mentally unstable until the buyers returned him in disgust. The original owner then threw a fit, accusing them of breaching the contract, and managed to claw back half the money.
But even that half plunged the spendthrift woman into financial ruin, making her resent the kids even more. When she discovered they’d started earning money on their own, she schemed daily to take it from them.
Le Qing exhaled. She couldn’t wait for the boy to be returned—that debt would land squarely on her shoulders.
With one child still sick at home, she couldn’t leave yet. But she had a week before the boy’s return in the original timeline. She still had a chance to act first.
She had to bring him back, but she couldn’t be the passive party—otherwise, the penalty fees would be astronomical.
Until then, she couldn’t touch the money from selling the child. She needed a fast-paying job to stabilize her situation.
A twinge of envy struck her. Even these two kids had managed to save a few hundred yuan. What had they been doing?
By evening, the sick child woke up, her fever gone and color returning to her cheeks. Le Qing wiped her face and handed her clothes. "We’re going downstairs. Come with me."
[Such a young child shouldn’t be left alone at home.]
Though unsure of her aunt’s intentions, Little Le'an didn’t dare disobey. She quietly dressed herself, head bowed.
But Le Qing frowned. Even in the thickest clothes she could find, the girl still looked underdressed—while the original owner’s closet overflowed with designer labels.
After rummaging, she managed to dig out a scarf and hat that fit the child, finally somewhat satisfied.
Her gaze lingered on the luxury items she couldn’t even name. An idea sparked—she had no interest in these things. Selling them secondhand could at least ease the immediate crisis.
Back in college, she’d worked part-time as a model and picked up photo-editing skills from photographers. For practice, she carefully photographed one of the less expensive bags and lightly edited the images on her phone before listing it at the market price on a resale platform.
[If this sells, at least the kids won’t go hungry.]
Little Le'an looked up, puzzled. Was this really her aunt’s voice?
The old Auntie would’ve snapped, "All you do is eat. Skipping a meal won’t kill you, you little burdens."
Pressing her lips together, the girl touched the warm hat and scarf but stayed silent.
When they got home, she’d secretly message her brother. He was so much smarter—he’d know what was happening.
Outside, a fine drizzle drifted through the air. As Le Qing stepped out of the elevator, a gust of cold wind hit her face. Being a typical southerner, she instinctively shoved her hands into her pockets and walked a few steps before suddenly stopping, as if realizing something.
When she turned around, the child was still trailing closely behind her. Bundled up tightly, Little Le'an struggled to see the ground, her neck stiff as she hurried to keep up while carefully avoiding a stumble—her movements resembling those of a tiny penguin.
Timidly, the child murmured, "Auntie, I’m walking."
Don’t be angry.
Le Qing fell silent. She wasn’t used to close contact with others, yet she couldn’t ignore the child’s earnest efforts.
Her fingers twitched inside her pocket. "Can I hold your hand?"
The question seemed directed at the child, yet also at herself.
Little Le'an’s eyes widened abruptly, as if caught off guard.
Seeing this, Le Qing grew even more uneasy. Without hesitation, she reached out and grasped the child’s small, icy hand.
Her hand is so tiny—how did she manage to hold that big bowl earlier?
So cold. I’ll buy her gloves once I have money.
Little Le'an stared blankly as her aunt pulled her sleeve down slightly, covering their joined hands, then numbly followed her forward.
What’s going on? Why is she acting so strange since she got sick?
When they arrived at the neighborhood grocery store, Le Qing instinctively started, "Do you—"
She cut herself off mid-sentence. The meager balance in her bank account hardly gave her the right to ask what the child wanted to eat.
So she changed course. "Is there anything you don’t eat?"
Little Le'an shook her head vacantly.
At least she’s easy to feed.
Feeling slightly better, Le Qing released her hand. "Walk in front of me. No running around."
"Okay."
With just the two of them at home, and the child having just recovered from illness, Le Qing didn’t plan to cook anything heavy. She had just picked up some greens when she noticed the child tugging at an empty bag, gazing at her expectantly.
Almost pleadingly, Little Le'an offered, "Auntie, I’ll help you carry things."
If her aunt liked it, then Little Le'an wouldn’t just prove she was easy to feed—she’d also show she was obedient. That way, her aunt wouldn’t sell her off too.
Nearby, a mother scolded her son, who was throwing a tantrum for snacks. "Look at that child over there, helping her aunt carry vegetables. All you do is whine when we go out."
Despite her words, the mother still grabbed a few snacks for her son, picked him up, and left.
Once they were gone, the surroundings quieted. Le Qing studied the child before her—no crying, no fussing, never reaching out greedily for anything. It was remarkably worry-free.
Memories surfaced of her own childhood, crouching outside convenience stores, enviously watching other kids enjoy sweets.
"What can you carry?" She smiled, placing a 50-cent lollipop into the child’s hands. "Hold this."
That’s really all I can spare.
On the way back, Le Qing’s hands were full, leaving her unable to hold the child. She slowed her pace, but after a few steps, Little Le'an turned back nervously, extending her small hand—the lollipop still carefully cradled in her palm. "Auntie, you forgot the candy."
"Mm." Le Qing nodded. "It’s for you."
Little Le'an blinked, hesitant. "I... can eat it?"
"Good kids get candy." Le Qing’s lips curved slightly. "Turn around. Don’t look at me—watch where you’re going."
Since she couldn’t hold the child, she made her walk ahead to prevent falls or getting lost.
Even after returning to the warmth of their home and sitting on the floor, Little Le'an still felt it was unreal. She clutched the candy, not daring to eat it.
"Sit on the couch."
At her aunt’s voice, the child looked up, confused.
"From now on, you can’t sit on the floor without my permission." Le Qing pointed to the sofa. "Couches are for sitting, not decoration. Understand?"
It sounded stern, yet why didn’t it feel scary at all?
By the time Little Le'an processed it, she was already on the couch, and her aunt had walked into the kitchen, satisfied.
In the end, she didn’t eat the candy. Instead, she secretly took out her phone, found her brother’s contact, and followed the steps he’d taught her, whispering several voice messages.
"Brother, I’m sick."
"But Auntie seems sick too. She’s acting really weird."
"She hugged me..."
Meanwhile, in another household, Little Le Jia immediately rushed to his room upon receiving his sister’s messages.
The couple who’d bought him had grown accustomed to his behavior—this child, though strikingly handsome, was quiet and odd-tempered, prone to inexplicable outbursts. They’d begun suspecting they’d been swindled into buying a dull-witted child.
Little Le Jia shut the door, listening carefully to his sister’s messages. His soft, round face scrunched into a frown.
That awful aunt would never do these things. There has to be a reason. But the couple hadn’t grown tired of him yet—he couldn’t return just yet.
Worried, he instructed, "Don’t let her trick you. Wait for me."
"Brother, when are you coming back?" Little Le'an’s voice came through. "I heard Auntie’s thoughts—she wants to bring you back."
Little Le Jia grew even more skeptical. How could that be? That horrible aunt would sooner sell my sister too!
Yes!
His sister was too naive to understand their aunt’s schemes. She was probably being nice now just to lower Little Le'an’s guard before selling her off!
Panic set in. He couldn’t let that happen.
If that’s the case... I’ll have to act worse to get sent back.
He looked down at his freshly changed pants, his small face solemn with resolve.
