◎What Kind of Track Is This?◎
Le Qing took the phone and saw that within just a few minutes, the Lin siblings and an anonymous viewer had spent hundreds of thousands in gifts. She fell silent for a long while, reflecting on whether she had chosen the wrong path—how could people have such bizarre preferences?
But she didn’t get the chance to dwell on it, as Ye Yun on the other end had already hastily ended her livestream out of sheer embarrassment. Why stick around to be scolded by Le Qing and the Lin siblings?
To this day, Ye Yun couldn’t understand how someone like Le Qing had landed such an opportunity.
Fortunately, Le Qing wasn’t the type to drag things out. In her eyes, it was all a waste of time—nothing would come of it anyway, just fodder for gossip.
Still, she was technically on the clock. Exiting the app, she asked, "Will this affect you?"
"Hmm?" Lin Jian was busy following two little ones on the platform and looked up with a smile. "What’s there to affect? Even if it did, it’d be you, not me. Why worry about me?"
Le Qing chuckled. "I have a clear conscience. Doesn’t matter either way."
"Fair enough." Lin Jian admired Le Qing’s unshakable confidence—a natural poise others couldn’t replicate even if they tried. Still, the online atmosphere was undeniably toxic. "You’re just letting the kids roam freely online like this?"
"It’s not exactly ‘letting.’"
For once, Le Qing looked slightly sheepish as she glanced at the two little ones playfully approaching with Lin Shengxi. "Truth is, I’m not entirely sure what they need. They’re too well-behaved—they never ask me for anything."
Pausing, she stood up and murmured, "I just want them to be happy. Whatever else, I’ll handle it."
"Weren’t you a kid once too?" Lin Jian asked curiously. "What you wanted back then isn’t too different from now."
"Yeah." Le Qing took a sip of hot water, the steam softening her smile. "That’s exactly how I thought as a child."
No demands, no wishes—just happiness.
But these two little ones deserved even more.
By then, the children had toddled over, tugging at their aunt’s sleeve. "Auntie, is everything fixed now?"
"All done." Le Qing crouched to adjust their crooked scarves. "Don’t worry about me—go play."
The kids frowned. "But so many people in there… do they not like Auntie?"
What a shame. If only they could read.
"They do," Le Qing assured them. "But this is your account, so most people come for you. It’s better if you film yourselves more."
[Damn, some mystery big shot just blasted the livestream to #1 on the charts, and Le Qing’s not capitalizing on this?]
[Lol, she hasn’t even glanced at the camera once. Does she really not care about us?]
[Actually, I respect her clarity. This is the kids’ account—we’re here for them. If it becomes all about her, she might as well start a new channel.]
Little Le Jia hesitated. "Did… did we help Auntie?"
"You did." Le Qing fibbed, having not read a single comment. "You helped me so, so much. You’re amazing."
That was all it took to light up their faces.
Unable to resist, Le Qing ruffled their little heads.
Le Jia puffed up with pride, finally feeling like a capable grown-up. "Auntie, go work! I’ll take care of my sister and wait for you. Then we’ll go home for dinner!"
"Okay."
Once their aunt left, the kids—remembering the audience loved watching them—angled the camera right at their faces. With that, Lin Shengxi had no commentary left to give. Since the kids were right beside him, he ignored the chat entirely.
If he didn’t read the comments aloud, the kids wouldn’t know what was being said. Easier to just play with them.
And play they did, so thoroughly that they forgot about the livestream entirely.
The phone sat forgotten as they and "Uncle Lin" piled up a mountain of toy ducks.
The nanny, finding herself oddly unnecessary, decided to contribute by charging the phone to keep the broadcast running.
[Hello? Anyone there?]
[Don’t worry, Le Qing. I’ll babysit for you.]
[First time babysitting. Any tips?]
In his car, Jiang Suizhi was also "babysitting"—via screen. He needed to study up on child-rearing.
But the more he watched, the more baffled he became. How did these two kids manage to name every single duck… and then forget the names and start over?
Just the naming process alone kept them entertained for hours.
Even Lin Shengxi was drained, slumping in the snow as the siblings debated which duck was "Little Flower’s best friend."
Exhausted, he asked, "Which one is Little Flower?"
The kids paused, realizing they couldn’t find Little Flower anymore. Instantly reconciling, they declared the next ducks would be "Little Flower No. 1" and "Little Flower No. 2."
That way, everyone had a best friend.
"Wait, we need a No. 3," Le Jia added, grabbing another duck. "No. 3 is Auntie’s friend."
Little sister Le An, ever thoughtful, nodded and set aside extras of every "friend" to surprise their aunt later.
By the time Le Qing finished filming and returned, she had amassed over a hundred "friends"—a sprawling duck army that looked ready for battle.
The kids stood at the center, orchestrating their forces:
"When Auntie comes, you all have to say ‘Hi, Auntie!’ Louder than Brother’s team!" Le An brandished a duck mold. "Whoever’s loudest gets to come home with me!"
Le Qing: "…"
"Duck troops!" Le Jia countered. "Whoever shouts louder than Sister’s team gets a bedtime story from me tonight!"
"The disobedient ones get Auntie’s homemade cake!"
[LMAO the cake that sent people to the hospital last time?]
[Le Qing never expected to go viral for her baking skills, huh?]
[Kids… maybe check who’s standing behind you?]
Honestly, Le Qing was tempted to empty her bag of "health-boosting" cookies into their mouths right then. After all her research and carefully added ingredients, her treats had become a punishment tool?
Outrageous!
"No dinner tonight," she announced flatly. "You’re eating yesterday’s cookies."
The world of the two little ones seemed to collapse instantly as they urgently commanded their duck army, "Quick, say hello to Auntie! Auntie is angry!" In reality, there was only the two of them in this snowy field, pretending to be many, straining their voices to produce multiple tones.
Le Qing worried they might hurt their throats from all the shouting and quickly called for a stop. But to her surprise, the children were dead serious about taking their duck army home.
She tried reasoning with them, "This is snow. If you take it into the car, it’ll melt into water soon."
The two toddlers, however, responded with chaotic logic, "But we promised the duckies. We’re best friends now."
Well, that friendship was now unbreakable.
"And this is Auntie’s friend too—this is Flower No. 3," Le An pointed at the snow duck at the front of the line. "Auntie, would you leave your friend here?"
Le Qing, who had no childhood memories to speak of, absolutely would.
But seeing the two little ones on the verge of crumbling again, her heart softened. She relented, "Fine, but only one friend."
"Thank you, Auntie!"
Le Qing went to the RV first to change out of her photoshoot outfit. By the time she returned, the two children were in the midst of a heart-wrenching farewell with the "friends" they couldn’t take along.
Their words were so full of genuine emotion that for a fleeting moment, Le Qing felt as if she had traveled back to a time before she became the so-called "heartless woman."
So she didn’t interrupt their solemn moment.
"You did really well today," Lin Jian leaned against the car. "Even without these two kids, plenty of people will want to work with you in the future."
"Thanks," Le Qing replied, fully aware of her own limitations. "I learned a lot from shooting with you too."
Lin Jian wasn’t here for small talk, nor did she want to discuss work. Remembering that Jiang Suizhi was still waiting in the car nearby, she asked casually, "I remember you’re the only one raising these kids at home?"
"Yeah."
"Are you planning to keep it that way?" Lin Jian pressed. "If work picks up, will you always bring them along?"
Le Qing hesitated.
"This time it’s local, but what about later? If you have to fly across the country or even abroad? Not everyone is like me, with some history with these two."
Le Qing knew this well. This time, Lin Jian had been kind enough to arrange for a nanny and even had her brother play with the kids on set.
But in the future, with strangers, not only might the kids struggle to trust them, but not everyone would be okay with her bringing children to work.
"Just asking," Lin Jian glanced at her. "What about their parents? They can’t expect you to raise them alone forever. You’ll have your own family someday too."
Knowing Lin Jian’s connection to Jiang Suizhi, Le Qing kept her answer guarded. "Right now, I am their parent."
Lin Jian nodded. "Have you thought about hiring a nanny or something?"
Between today’s earnings, the money from selling secondhand items, and her photoshoot payments, Le Qing could easily afford a professional nanny for the kids.
"I’ll consider it," Le Qing said, walking toward the children. "Thanks."
Before, financial constraints and her limited worldview had kept her from thinking about this. But now, she realized a nanny could offer the kids more expertise and care than she could, while also freeing up her time.
At the very least, a nanny could read them bedtime stories and bake them cakes.
She could afford these expenses—after all, the money had come from her late sister’s savings.
Le Qing turned to the two little ones. "Done saying goodbye?"
"Almost!" They turned to her with utmost seriousness. "But Auntie hasn’t said goodbye to her friends yet."
"..."
Le Qing eyed the flower-shaped snow ducks that were supposedly "hers" and hesitated. "I have to too?"
"Of course!" The kids nodded firmly. "These are Auntie’s friends! They’ve been waiting for you."
Le Qing’s expression stiffened.
She really needed a nanny.
Urgently.
Nearby, Lin Shengxi and Lin Jian’s gazes flickered over, amusement barely concealed.
During the shoot, Le Qing had remained unshaken under countless stares, but now heat crept up her face. If she didn’t say anything, the kids would think she was rude.
Trying to hide her embarrassment, she turned slightly toward the snow ducks and gave a small, barely audible wave. "B-bye."
Lin Shengxi couldn’t hold back a snort. "Pfft!"
Even Lin Jian silently laughed, shoulders shaking.
Le Qing felt like her entire body was on fire. She had never done anything like this in her life!
Flustered, she hurriedly told the kids, "Let’s go home."
"Okay!" The little ones carefully cradled their "little friends" and trailed behind their aunt.
Le Qing instinctively turned to let them walk ahead, but still disoriented from the awkward farewell, she lost her balance and tumbled into the snow.
Like Lin Shengxi earlier, who had buried himself in the snow, she felt as if she’d landed on cotton. The cold seeped into her skin, soothing the heat in her cheeks. It was oddly comfortable, and for a moment, she didn’t move.
The kids, thinking their aunt was copying Lin Shengxi’s snow antics, promptly imitated her. They turned and flopped down on either side of her with twin plops.
This time, their faces weren’t buried, so they could breathe—and even wiggle.
"Auntie!" Tiny hands splashed snow onto Le Qing’s face, the flakes melting into droplets against her skin.
She could feel the snow gradually warming as it turned to water.
The kids grew more excited, squirming and burrowing through the snow until their little heads popped up.
Le An emerged first, diving into Le Qing’s arms with a giggle. "Found Auntie!"
Not to be outdone, Le Jia shoved aside the snow, sending a fresh wave onto Le An and Le Qing.
Just as Le Qing was about to gather them and stand, Le An scooped up a handful of snow and plopped it onto her forehead. "Auntie’s a snowman now!"
"Me too! Brother too!"
Le Jia rolled onto her back in Le Qing’s arms and wriggled, clearly expecting the same treatment.
It took Le Qing a few seconds to realize she was supposed to place a snowball on her head too.
"Auntie, An-an wants one~"
Resigned, Le Qing molded a small snowball and placed it on Le An’s head, then did the same for Le Jia.
Only then were the two satisfied, clapping their mittened hands. "We’re a snowman family! Matching!"
Le An cupped the snowball on her head and turned to instruct Le Qing. "Auntie, snowmen have to smile."
The same Le Qing who had been mortified talking to snow ducks now felt all her inhibitions melt away. She couldn’t help but laugh. "Auntie’s smiling."
She had been about to stand, but suddenly, she didn’t want to. Instead, she lay there, gazing up at the bright sky, her body—chilled from the day—strangely warm all over.
This was the first time in her life she had ever played in the snow.
All because of two children.
[Watching this makes me happy too.]
[Earlier, Ye Yun accused her of exploiting the kids, but Le Qing seems really good with them. If anything, the kids seem to be the ones bossing her around—the way she waved goodbye to the little snow ducks was adorable.]
[Who else is smiling? I am! Ugh, I wanna play like that too.]
[Won’t they catch a cold? They’ve been out all day. Maybe she’s just inexperienced as a first-time aunt?]
"How was it?"
Lin Shengxi, back in the car, turned to ask the man who had sat motionless in the backseat all day.
Jiang Suizhi pulled his gaze away from the window. "How was what?"
"Didn’t you feel your corpse warming up a little?"
"..." Jiang Suizhi shot him a frosty look. "All I know is if this keeps up, they really will turn into corpses."
One had spent the entire day taking photos in a dress in the snow, while the other two had tirelessly molded snow ducks all afternoon.
What kind of body could endure that?
Kids might not know better, but shouldn’t the adult?
Between eating strangely flavored cookies and indulging the children’s snowbound antics, Jiang Suizhi was seriously beginning to doubt whether this person was fit to take care of kids.
Kids these days really do survive anything.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the car window twice.
Lin Shengxi, in the passenger seat, startled and turned. "Bro, it’s Le Qing!"
Jiang Suizhi hadn’t expected Le Qing to approach either, but he was curious about her intentions. He shifted slightly into the corner, adjusted his mask higher, and lowered his head. "Let’s see."
Unfortunately, when the window rolled down, Le Qing didn’t even glance toward the back. Instead, she pointed at the little snow ducks on the car hood and said to Lin Shengxi, "Let me help you clean these off."
They were made while playing with the kids, so of course she’d take responsibility for removing them to avoid ruining the car’s appearance.
"Ah, don’t worry about it," Lin Shengxi waved her off. "They’ll melt once we hit the city. Anything else?"
Le Qing shook her head and took a polite step back. "Thank you for today."
"Say goodbye to Uncle."
The two little ones beside her, now bundled up in their hats again, looked soft and round. They had gone back to retrieve new "friends" after their earlier snow tumble, clutching ducks in one hand while struggling to wave with the other. "Bye, Uncle Lin~"
"Bye-bye~"
"Bye, Black Uncle~"
The "Black Uncle" in the backseat: "..."
He inhaled quietly, unsure if they could even hear him, and gave a low hum in response.
Only then did Le Qing remember there was someone else in the car, though she couldn’t see who it was from where she stood.
A friend of Lin Shengxi’s? If Lin Shengxi was driving, this person probably wasn’t ordinary either. The voice sounded fairly young.
But she wasn’t particularly interested. With a slight nod, she led the children back to their own car.
As the line of vehicles began to depart one by one, the last car finally rolled out.
"I asked around," said Lin Jian, who had tagged along for the gossip, now sitting in the passenger seat. "There really isn’t anyone else at her place right now. From what I gathered, Le Qing is essentially acting as the kids’ parent now."
"And you?" she asked. "What did you figure out after sitting here watching all day?"
Jiang Suizhi, silent for a long while, exited the long-closed livestream and replied flatly, "Couldn’t tell."
"Then let me rephrase—what were you trying to figure out?"
Jiang Suizhi: "What kind of person she is."
"What does that have to do with you?" Lin Jian frowned. "But seriously, what’s your connection to these kids?"
Jiang Suizhi didn’t have many friends, but Lin Jian was one of the few he trusted—enough to involve her brother in this matter.
Besides, some things were hard to judge alone, especially since he… didn’t understand women.
"Jiang Yan’s," he said.
Lin Jian was only mildly surprised. The resemblance had been obvious.
But since she wasn’t close to Jiang Yan, she couldn’t comment on his private life.
"So Le Qing…" Lin Jian sucked in a breath. "I think I get it. You’re planning to take the kids back?"
"Not yet." Jiang Suizhi countered, "What do you think of her?"
"Le Qing?" Lin Jian had met all sorts of people, but she couldn’t claim to fully understand her. "Different from the rumors. So far, she seems decent, just a bit… like how you used to be."
Jiang Suizhi raised a brow. "Me?"
"Before you returned to the Jiang family. Kept her distance, though she’s subtler than you were. At least she seems approachable—but who knows?"
"Who knows what?"
"It’s like she doesn’t even realize she’s like that."
Could someone really not know their own nature?
Jiang Suizhi had never seen it.
But he had noticed the distance in Le Qing—even the kids carried it, though they were too young to recognize it.
"Since your connection is this unusual, I might’ve just given you an opportunity."
"Which is?"
"Le Qing needs money right now. Given her skills, she’ll probably land more jobs soon. But the kids are at that tricky age where they need care. I suggested she hire a nanny. If you want, I can recommend someone you trust."
A faint shift crossed Jiang Suizhi’s expression.
---
Le Qing was indeed considering hiring a nanny, but she had no experience, so she could only browse apps for now, checking for red flags. If anything happened to these two because of her negligence, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.
The earnings from the kids’ livestream, though halved by the platform’s cut, were still substantial. Le Qing deposited all of it into their savings account.
The payment from her collaboration with Lin Jian, being a commercial shoot, was much higher than the random street encounter with the kids. She kept 10,000 for emergencies and stashed the rest away.
The day after the shoot, Lin Jian posted behind-the-scenes clips on her Weibo. Combined with the livestream buzz, Le Qing’s name quickly gained traction.
Seizing the momentum, she registered a Weibo account to handle future commercial shoots.
Thanks to the exposure, her account gained thousands of followers on the first day. Her inbox flooded with offers, though most were questionable. After filtering, only a handful remained.
Before she could decide, the kids handed her another surprise.
"An actor?" Le Qing repeated, stunned by the call from the production team.
"Yes, we've been following your children online for a while and think they'd be perfect for two roles in our drama. Would you have time to bring them for an audition?"
Le Qing glanced at the two innocent children sitting obediently beside her.
First, it was an advertisement last time, and now a drama.
Where were all these opportunities coming from? Were they born under a lucky star, with chances just knocking on their door?
"Do you want to go?" she asked.
The two little ones nodded in unison.
Of course they did! Uncle System had already told them!
This time, they could earn some pocket money too.
"Alright," Le Qing agreed. "When should we come?"
"Anytime works. We're currently filming, so I'll send you the address. Just bring them over whenever you're ready."
After hanging up, Le Qing studied the two children sitting proudly upright, lost in thought.
She seemed to have underestimated their popularity.
In her eyes, they were just kids who enjoyed making quirky videos. She figured she could gently guide their tastes while letting them have fun.
But now, they'd somehow turned it into a career.
It dawned on her—were these the so-called "genius babies" she'd read about in books?
And now, she was their dedicated assistant.
Dutifully, Le Qing packed everything the future stars might need. Unsure what acting required, she gave them a special makeover instead.
For the first time, the two kids stared at their reflections and questioned their aunt's taste.
Little Le An poked her rosy, sunbeam-like cheeks. "Auntie, is this really necessary?"
She looked like her brother had punched her twice!
Meanwhile, little Le Jia pressed his bright red lips together, eyeing the beauty mark between his brows with great difficulty. "No boy looks like this."
"Who says?" Le Qing was quite pleased with her masterpiece. "Back where I'm from, all kids dress like this for performances."
"Huh?"
The two children were baffled.
Where exactly was "back where Auntie's from"?
Le Jia turned to Uncle System for help. "Uncle, does this look good?"
He'd never seen this style in any videos before.
The system replied with absolute certainty, "Of course! This is how kids should look."
For once, it actually approved of Auntie's aesthetic choices. Convinced, the two children obediently put on their outfits, grabbed their little backpacks, and headed out.
Today, Le Qing had even tied Le An's hair into two perky pigtails, marching out with the two little ones in tow, her heart swelling with an oddly triumphant pride.
She'd never done children's makeup before, but this was how kids in her kindergarten days had looked during performances.
Back then, no one had bought her pretty dresses. Every Children's Day, she'd sat in the audience, watching other kids on stage.
The little girl she once was had thought: No child could resist envying such glamorous makeup.
Since filming was already underway, the audition was held at the shooting location—a local scenic spot where the crew had reserved a room for tryouts.
Upon arrival, they noticed other children waiting, likely competing for the same roles.
A staff member at the registration desk looked up. "Names?"
"Le Jia, Le An."
"Le…" The staffer paused, studying the two kids with a hint of skepticism. "The sibling duo from those viral videos?"
Le Qing replied, "I suppose?"
The staffer stifled a laugh as he handed her temporary passes. "Go on in and wait. The director and producer will be here soon."
"Brother, that uncle laughed," Le An whispered, pressing closer to Le Jia. "Does he think we look pretty?"
Le Jia, who believed laughter always meant kindness, nodded firmly. "Definitely."
Nearby, someone had been watching them closely. A woman lowered her voice and sneered, "See those two? The director personally called them in for auditions—Le Jia and Le An, or whatever."
Her eyes lingered on the children's flushed cheeks, curling into a mocking smile. "What kind of taste is that? Just some internet-famous kids. How could they compare to mine?"
Her child had been trained in performing arts since infancy—already a seasoned child star.
These days, every online wannabe thought they could break into showbiz. As if it were that easy.
"Still," her companion murmured, "we’ve brought our kid here multiple times, and the director always gave vague responses. This time, they called everyone in together. Clearly, they’re leaning toward those two. And honestly, the kids do look cute in their videos."
"Pretty faces are a dime a dozen. Not everyone belongs on screen," the woman scoffed. She turned to the child behind her. "You’d better outperform them, understand?"
The child sat stiffly, hands neatly folded on their lap. "Yes, Mom. I’ll do my best."
"If you lose to two amateurs, all my effort was wasted."
The child clenched their fists, silent.
"Lan Qian," her agent shot her a warning glance. "Tone it down."
Lan Qian hummed and sat beside her child, painting on a sweet smile. "Don’t worry, Mommy’s here with you."
The child’s shoulders trembled slightly. "Okay, Mom."
Meanwhile, Le Qing and her little ones found seats nearby. She nudged their backpacks. "Need water?"
They shook their heads.
She waited a beat. "Bathroom break?"
Another shake.
"Hungry? You barely ate earlier."
"Auntie?" Le Jia studied her. "What’s wrong?"
"Nothing."
[Why am I so nervous? I’m not the one auditioning.]
Le Qing couldn’t help fidgeting. If this were her own modeling audition, she’d be perfectly calm. But with the kids here, she felt restless.
While the children sat composed, she’d already gulped down half her water bottle.
Lan Qian, seated nearby, exchanged a knowing look with her agent. "See? Even the guardian’s a novice."
The agent, however, eyed Le Qing thoughtfully. "That’s Le Qing—the kids’ aunt. I caught their livestream. She’s as striking as any A-lister."
She compared her own artist’s meticulously contoured face to Le Qing’s fresh, effortless glow. The contrast was undeniable.
"She collaborated with Lin Jian recently."
Lan Qian stiffened. "Lin Jian?"
"Yep," the agent said. "Seems like she’s dipping into the industry too. Watch your back."
Whether they were models or celebrities, many people wanted to collaborate with Lin Jian. However, Lin Jian was a photographer with a strong personality—she never cared about status or fame when choosing who to work with, relying solely on her own intuition.
Yet, anyone who collaborated with Lin Jian would inevitably rise in prominence, even if they started off completely unknown. Over time, their careers would shine brightly.
Because of this, Lin Jian wasn’t just a photographer in the industry—she was also a symbol of connections and future success.
Lan Qian had initially enjoyed smooth sailing in her modeling career. However, after a stage accident, her commercial gigs and photoshoots dwindled, forcing her to find another path.
To win back public favor, she deliberately engaged in charity work and even adopted a child from an orphanage under media coverage.
Now, not only had her career rebounded thanks to the child, but the child had also become a defining part of her public image.
At this point, her success was tied to the child’s, so pushing the child forward was essential for her own advancement.
By now, her status far surpassed others at her level in the industry, and she wasn’t about to let anyone threaten her position—not even an unknown newcomer.
This Le Qing had already worked with Lin Jian, meaning she had access to some of Lin Jian’s resources. If her two children also gained traction, wouldn’t they eventually compete with Lan Qian’s niche?
With that thought, Lan Qian adjusted her expression and turned to greet her: "Hello."
Hearing the voice, Le Qing glanced over. Assuming it was someone her past self knew, she nodded politely. "Hello."
"Bringing your kids for an audition?" Lan Qian smiled. "They’re quite adorable."
"Thank you." Le Qing glanced at the child behind Lan Qian, who only showed half their face, seemingly indifferent to the adults’ conversation. Out of courtesy, she added, "Your child is lovely too."
"I think so too." Lan Qian said proudly. "My child has worked with many renowned directors since they were little. They have plenty of experience, having starred in several dramas. Now, people even ask for their autograph when we go out. They practice singing and dancing daily, and even rehearsed lines before coming here today. What about yours?"
Le Qing smiled faintly.
If she remembered correctly, the director had mentioned over the phone that this wasn’t a particularly significant role. If Lan Qian’s child had truly worked with so many big-name directors, why would they be competing for this opportunity?
Still, these weren’t questions an outsider like her could answer. What bothered her more was Lan Qian’s tone.
Having grown accustomed to solitude, Le Qing never bothered maintaining relationships that felt uncomfortable. If something rubbed her the wrong way, she simply distanced herself.
She subtly shielded her children and replied calmly, "Mine ate two bowls of rice before coming here."
"?"
"You promised you’d only eat one bowl!" The children, oblivious to the adults’ tension, were more concerned about their own matters. Little Le Jia pinched his sister’s ear and whispered, "What if Auntie can’t carry you again?"
Little Le An pouted.
"My tummy was hungry, so I ate just a little."
The two kids stared down at their bellies, distressed.
Oh no. No piggyback rides from Auntie today.
"Is that so?" Lan Qian was momentarily thrown off by Le Qing’s response but quickly recovered. "If they don’t have any skills, won’t it be difficult for them at the audition?"
She tugged at the child behind her. "Come on, Xu Xu, show these two little ones how it’s done. Be a good example—just eating well isn’t enough."
The gap between children had to be obvious. Those two kids with cheeks red like monkey butts were clearly no match for hers.
And seeing how nervous Le Qing had been earlier, if her child’s performance intimidated them now, even the director’s preference for their looks wouldn’t save them if they botched the audition.
When the little boy stepped forward, Le Qing finally got a clear look at him.
She had thought her own kids were thin, but this child was even thinner.
He was obedient—doing whatever he was told—but unlike her lively little ones, he seemed to lack energy.
Her two children, who had spent most of their lives just trying to survive and rarely went out, had almost no friends. So when they saw another kid, their curiosity about their own bellies vanished, and they peeked out from their chairs.
Lan Xu had been too busy recalling his audition piece to notice the newcomers.
His mother had always told him other children weren’t as good as him, so he shouldn’t pay them attention—he just had to outshine them.
But when two little red-cheeked dumplings with tiny ponytails suddenly popped into view, he froze.
What kind of competition was this?
He had never seen this before.
Lan Xu was at a loss. How was he supposed to outperform these two rosy-cheeked siblings?
"Xu Xu?" Lan Qian nudged him lightly. "Aren’t you good at performing?"
Only then did the two little ones notice the adult standing there.
Little Le An, who had been about to duck back, froze when she met the woman’s gaze.
[So annoying. Let them see the difference between my son and them. What kind of ugly ducklings dare come here and steal our opportunities? This role is ours—get lost.]
"!!!"
Little Le An immediately tugged her brother’s sleeve and whispered what she had just "seen."
Le Jia understood.
System Uncle had told them that his sister could tell good people from bad people—that way, they wouldn’t get tricked.
He couldn’t tell Auntie about his sister’s ability to read eyes, so he turned to the system for help.
The system thought for a moment. "How about this…"
Meanwhile, under pressure, Lan Xu had no choice but to brace himself. Staring blankly at the two red-cheeked siblings, he tried to think of something he could win at. "I can…"
Le Qing disliked pitting children against each other. "We don’t—"
But before she could finish, little Le Jia suddenly asked, "Can you do anything?"
Le Qing glanced at her unexpectedly enthusiastic child but didn’t interrupt.
Lan Xu hesitated, then nodded.
The next moment, the little boy pulled out a pile of neatly wrapped cookies from his backpack. "Big brother, I can eat ten of Auntie’s cookies in one bite. Can you?"
Ten was just the highest number he knew—not the limit of how many cookies he could actually eat!
Le Qing: "..."
Little Lan Xu: What a dirty trick.
