◎Mr. Jiang (Part 2)◎
"Skipping breakfast makes you grow as tall as Uncle Xie!" The two little ones' worldview was instantly shattered, and they refused to eat their noodles any longer. This was even more important than riding the rocking horse.
Not growing tall meant not growing up—and that meant no chance of becoming a superhero!
Oh no, how could something so terrible exist?!
Meanwhile, the culprit, Jiang Suizhi, stood there looking utterly innocent yet forced to take the blame. He stepped forward and said, "When I was little, I could eat two big bowls a day."
Little Le Jia, eyes brimming with tears, compared his height to Uncle Xie's. "Really?"
"Of course."
"I don't believe you."
System Uncle had already told him—Uncle Xie had no family, no auntie. How could he have eaten two big bowls of rice? He and his sister even had to save their little bread rolls.
"You—"
Jiang Suizhi found this unbearably frustrating.
"Fine, I'll eat," he conceded, as if admitting defeat. "I'll eat, okay?"
The little one peeked at him through his fingers, suspicion still clouding his eyes.
"What if you don’t eat tomorrow?"
This was about whether Jiang Yan’s kids could grow up healthy. Jiang Suizhi irritably ruffled his own hair. "I’ll eat every day!"
"Pinky promise!"
Suppressing his discomfort, Jiang Suizhi reached out and hooked his little finger half-heartedly. "Yeah, yeah, no take-backs."
The promise was so half-hearted that Little Le Jia remained doubtful. "Then Uncle has to take a photo!"
Whenever he worried his aunt might go back on her word, he’d record videos or take photos—no room for tricks.
This kid is as troublesome as his dad.
Jiang Suizhi gritted his teeth. "Fine."
Back when he was still in school, juggling studies and part-time jobs, he often skipped meals. But once Jiang Yan came into the picture, even while at work, he’d call or message at fixed times to check in—claiming it was to "supervise his growth."
Who the hell still needs to "grow" at eighteen or nineteen?!
He’d been endlessly annoyed. What was even more absurd was that Jiang Yan could somehow tell if the food photos he sent were just stock images. If he tried to fake it, he’d get caught. Eventually, Jiang Yan shamelessly demanded he make an extra portion.
Jiang Suizhi was convinced this kid had inherited his father’s craftiness—both of them were too sharp for their own good.
"Uncle, eat~" Little Le Jia wiped away the nonexistent tears at the corners of his eyes. "I’ll share half with you."
"I have my own," Jiang Suizhi said, thinking of the bowl of soup waiting at home. "You eat yours. I’ll go back and eat after fixing this."
"Uncle—"
Jiang Suizhi clenched his jaw. "I’ll take the damn photo!"
Satisfied, Little Le Jia wobbled back onto his chair, picking up his child-sized chopsticks again. "Okaaay~"
His little shadow—his sister—clambered back up too, mimicking his head shake. "Okaaay~"
Jiang Suizhi was baffled. Since when did these two start policing me? This didn’t make sense.
He turned to ask Le Qing if the kids were always this nosy, only to find her leaning against the rocking horse, her face flushed with laughter.
"Think it’s funny?" he asked.
"Nope." Caught off guard, Le Qing covered her mouth awkwardly and changed the subject. "Are you sure you don’t want me to make another bowl of noodles?"
"I have food," Jiang Suizhi repeated firmly.
He bent down again. The rocking horse itself wasn’t broken, but since household models differed from commercial ones, the button needed adjusting. With a slight twist, the horse immediately started swaying.
Le Qing, still leaning against it, jolted in surprise.
Seeing her startled like a rabbit, Jiang Suizhi finally regained some dignity. "There, try it?"
"After they finish eating."
"Try it now!" Little Le Jia and his sister were slurping noodles with all their might, strands dangling from their lips as they pouted. "Auntie goes first!"
Le Qing insisted, "Adults don’t ride rocking horses."
This time, the kids weren’t fooled. "Uncle also said adults don’t eat breakfast."
Nice try.
The power dynamic had flipped. Now it was Jiang Suizhi’s turn to gloat—he hadn’t forgotten how she’d stayed silent earlier, enjoying his struggle.
But then again, he’d seen Le Qing calm, composed, even recklessly bold before. This flustered, cornered version of her was rare.
He raised a brow. "Go on, Auntie. Test it out—make sure it’s safe."
The kids are one thing, but why is Mr. Xie joining in?!
Le Qing stared at him in disbelief. "This is for children."
"No," Jiang Suizhi said. "I asked for the highest weight capacity when buying it. Anyone can ride."
Especially someone as slight as Le Qing.
"Auntie~" The two little ones leaned eagerly over the table. "Ride it, Auntie! It’s super fun!"
Before, they could only watch other kids play.
Jiang Suizhi added, "If the ride’s uncomfortable, I can exchange it. Don’t want the kids bouncing awkwardly."
With that, even if Le Qing hated the idea, she had to consider the children’s safety. Some rocking horses were poorly made.
But the moment she actually sat on it, she wished she’d brought a mask like Mr. Xie. Within seconds, her ears burned red.
Jiang Suizhi, holding the controls, noticed her fidgeting hands and flushed ears. He smirked. "Ready?"
"Mm."
The second he pressed the button, upbeat DJ music blared from the rocking horse, nearly launching Le Qing into orbit. Why does a rocking horse have club music?!
She shot a bewildered look at Mr. Xie as the horse began swaying beneath her.
Jiang Suizhi hadn’t expected this either. Before he could speak, he saw her squirming—utterly helpless.
How does she keep surprising me every day?
Still, recognizing her discomfort, he quickly hit stop. "Well?"
"Not too shaky."
Jiang Suizhi turned away, stifling a laugh. He’d thought she’d bolt the second she could, but she’d actually evaluated it seriously.
Le Qing climbed off. "But can’t we change the music?"
Little Le Jia immediately shook his head. "No! It’s awesome!"
He loved this song!
"Yep!" His sister waved her hands. "Like grandpas and grandmas!"
The same music played at the square where the elderly danced. She could dance to it too!
"It’s probably the default," Jiang Suizhi said, opening a small panel at the back and pulling out a USB. "The seller included it. You can download your own tracks and adjust the volume here."
Thank goodness. If she had to hear that music every day, Le Qing was sure she’d lose her mind.
She took the USB. "Thanks. You should go eat breakfast now."
Four pairs of eyes instantly locked onto Jiang Suizhi like searchlights—We’re watching you. He sighed. "Right."
Only after he left did Le Qing realize—they hadn’t exchanged contact info. How was he supposed to send the photo?
Will he have to come back?
Worried she might miss his knock if the kids were riding the horse, she left the door slightly ajar while plugging the USB into her computer to download new music.
Even if one hasn't eaten pork, they’ve at least seen a pig run. Le Qing downloaded all the nursery rhymes she often heard outside the supermarket onto a USB drive and played them on rotation. As for the one the children liked, she didn’t delete it—she couldn’t completely deprive them of their little joys.
After finishing the downloads and plugging in the device, she turned down the volume of the rocking horse to a level that was comfortable for the ears.
The two little ones, having just finished their bowls of noodles, eagerly rushed toward the long-awaited rocking horse. There was no need for politeness now—they were convinced they could squeeze in together!
Le Qing let them be, pressing the power button before heading off to clear the dishes.
Meanwhile, back in his own home, Jiang Suizhi stared at the bowl of sliced soup on the table with a headache. Thanks to the warming pad and the underfloor heating, it hadn’t gone cold, but its appearance was far from appetizing.
He had just moved in and hadn’t had time to stock up on groceries. Cooking something else now was out of the question.
But his greatest virtue was his lack of pickiness. Growing up in complicated circumstances, he had learned to swallow whatever was put in front of him, no matter the taste. Today, he was just here to get by.
He took out his phone and snapped a photo of the soup to report back, but upon noticing the two relatively intact dumplings floating in it, he suddenly recalled the two bowls of noodles he had seen earlier on the table.
Setting aside the little biscuits, Le Qing’s cooking skills seemed genuinely decent.
After a brief hesitation, he picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of one dumpling.
Even though it had been frozen, the filling was unexpectedly fragrant—no wonder the two kids ate so obediently.
He finished the other dumpling too, but the rest of the soup was beyond salvage.
He took another photo of the half-eaten bowl, but even after scrutinizing it, Jiang Suizhi still found it unappealing.
The same instinct that had once fooled Jiang Yan resurfaced. He sat down, swiftly downloaded a photo-editing app, and skillfully transformed the sad remnants of meat scraps and dumpling skins into something that, at first glance, looked like a gourmet dish.
Armed with this edited photo, Jiang Suizhi felt much more confident.
After clearing the dishes, he instinctively opened his chat with Le Qing, ready to send the picture—only to freeze when he saw his own conspicuous profile photo.
That was close.
He clicked his tongue and grabbed his phone, heading outside.
The moment he opened his door, the sound of music drifted from the crack under Le Qing’s door—softer now, and more playful, likely adjusted by her.
But why hadn’t she closed her door?
Jiang Suizhi walked over slowly, raising his hand to knock when he heard Le Qing’s voice from inside: "Do you two remember how to sing this song?"
"We do!" Little Le'an eagerly volunteered, "Dad’s dad is called grandpa, dad’s dad is called grandpa!"
"Right," Le Qing said, the music still playing in the background. "Can you sing it from the beginning for me?"
The song was simple, and the two little ones remembered it perfectly, launching right in: "Daddy’s good, Mommy’s good~"
What was so special about this?
Jiang Suizhi’s hand hovered over the doorknob.
Then, abruptly, Le Qing said, "Stop."
She asked, "Do you know what ‘Mommy’ and ‘Daddy’ mean?"
Jiang Suizhi’s pupils contracted. He stood motionless at the door.
The question caught the children off guard—it was the first time their aunt had asked something like this, and the first time they had to think about it seriously.
Sitting on the gently rocking horse, Little Le'an answered innocently, "Daddy is Daddy, and Mommy is Mommy?"
Le Qing chuckled softly. "I mean, do you know what they represent?"
The little ones didn’t understand—because they didn’t have them.
Le Qing rested her hand on the rocking horse, letting its motion steady her trembling fingers and racing heart.
"Mommy and Daddy are the people who brought you into this world," she explained gently. "They’re the ones closest to you."
Little Le Jia shook his head. "But our family is you, Auntie."
Le Qing faltered, caught off guard.
"Brother and I don’t have a Mommy or Daddy," Little Le'an said seriously.
Le Qing studied their expressions before asking softly, "Do you ever miss them?"
The children thought carefully before answering honestly, "We used to. But not anymore."
"Why?"
Little Le'an nuzzled her aunt’s hand. "Because Auntie is really good too!"
Having never met their parents, they didn’t know what it was like to have them. Other children’s parents doted on them, so they used to think having parents would mean someone would love them too.
But now, their aunt treated them so well that they didn’t feel the lack anymore.
To them, she was family—and they would love her just as much as they would Mommy and Daddy!
Le Qing realized their understanding was skewed. She tried to remain objective. "But Auntie isn’t the same as Mommy and Daddy."
Little Le Jia thought for a moment. "Then I’ll call you Mommy!"
Le Qing’s voice turned firm. "No, you can’t."
The children blinked, startled by her sudden seriousness. "Auntie, what’s wrong?"
Realizing she had overreacted, Le Qing took a calming breath. "It’s nothing."
She couldn’t magically produce a mother for them, so she sidestepped the topic and instead asked, "Remember how the song says kids have lots of family?"
The little ones nodded.
"What if you meet other family members one day?"
Little Le'an answered obediently, "We say hello."
"Huh?"
What kind of answer was that?
"Is family the same as being part of the household?" Little Le Jia asked.
"Of course, just like Auntie."
Little Le Jia wasn’t entirely convinced. "Are they as nice as you?"
"What if they’re even nicer?"
The children couldn’t imagine anyone being better than their aunt—they were already so happy.
Little Le Jia clapped his hands. "Then we bring them home!"
"What?" Le Qing was stunned.
"Family should live together!" Little Le Jia declared, already making plans. "They can sleep in the empty room."
At least he remembered there was a spare room.
"But there’s no bed," Little Le'an pointed out.
"Oh." Little Le Jia amended, "Then Auntie sleeps with us—she tells stories. The family member can sleep alone."
They’d work hard to earn more money, so they could take care of both their aunt and this new family member!
Le Qing: "..."
She had wanted to ask what they’d do if a family member asked them to leave, but she stopped herself. It was just a hypothetical, and posing it would feel like asking, "If Mommy and Daddy divorce, who would you choose?"
It would only upset them.
This was something she’d have to approach step by step. At the very least, she needed to plant the idea in their minds so they wouldn’t be blindsided later.
The nursery rhyme reached its end, and the two little ones asked excitedly, "Auntie, do you want to hear another one?"
They were ready to sing again!
"Alright." Le Qing released her hand from the car and gently ruffled the children's hair. "Keep playing. Auntie has things to do."
She planned to first jot down her hotel experience for Lin Shengxi, then review past interviews about Lin Jian to avoid making any preventable mistakes during the upcoming interview. This was her responsibility—both to herself and to Lin Jian.
Just as she turned and sat down at the dining table, she heard a knock at the door. Ah, the clock-in visitor had arrived.
"Come in."
Sure enough, the tall man whom the two little ones had "certified" pushed the door open and stepped inside leisurely.
Le Qing paused for half a second before looking up again.
Earlier, when Mr. Xie had come to fix the rocking car, he’d seemed freshly woken, his words and actions carrying a relaxed ease, making him appear far less intimidating than usual.
But now, after returning from breakfast, Mr. Xie seemed to have reverted to his usual self. Even without his hat, his gaze had regained its sharp edge.
So some people really do have a "charged" and "uncharged" mode, huh?
Le Qing didn’t dwell on it. After all, he wasn’t here for her. She nodded in greeting and resumed her work.
Jiang Suizhi had only taken a few steps toward her when the two children on the rocking car interrupted him. "Uncle Xie, we're over here~"
Remembering his primary objective, Jiang Suizhi changed course and walked over to the kids, pulling up his phone screen. "This is breakfast."
The two little ones widened their eyes, scrutinizing the image carefully, but their expressions remained unimpressed. "Why didn’t Uncle finish it?"
How could anyone finish that!
Without batting an eye, Jiang Suizhi lied, "This was taken before eating."
"Uncle is lying," Little Le'an shook her head. "That’s not good."
Jiang Suizhi pocketed his phone, guilty but unyielding. "I’m not lying."
Clearly, the kids weren’t buying it. They had their own methods. "Was it not tasty?"
Well, it wasn’t exactly inedible—just impossible to stomach at that point.
"Uncle, from now on, I’ll share half of my breakfast with you," Little Le Jia declared solemnly, shouldering the great responsibility of helping the kind uncle. Having experienced the hardship of not having a good aunt growing up, he empathized deeply. "Auntie’s cooking is really good, you know."
Jiang Suizhi gave him a sidelong glance. "Who taught you to invite strangers over for meals?"
"Not at home!" Little Le Jia wasn’t that foolish. Besides, Uncle had come on his own—they hadn’t invited him. "I’ll eat first, then bring some to Uncle."
You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?
Jiang Suizhi could already picture the scene: being fed from a child’s bowl every day, just like when he’d survived on the kindness of neighbors as a kid.
Back then, it had been adults pitying a helpless little boy.
Now, it was two little ones taking care of a grown man who was anything but pitiable.
It was oddly amusing. The irritation he’d felt upon overhearing those words outside the door dissipated somewhat.
Watching the two children rocking tirelessly on the car, never forgetting to fuss over his skipped breakfast, Jiang Suizhi felt an unexpected sense of nostalgia.
He rarely dwelled on his hardships. As a child, he might have yearned for love and companionship, but over the years, reality had worn away those desires until nothing remained.
Survival was enough. He’d grown accustomed to the numbness.
Later, when he’d built a stable life for himself, even after learning of his wealthy father, he’d never once considered returning to that world of privilege.
Returning to his tiny rented room each day was when he felt most content and secure. He’d grown used to solitude, to silence, to shielding himself with sharp words—though occasionally, he still felt adrift.
Until Jiang Yan had suddenly appeared in that cramped, quiet space, filling it with chatter—sometimes his own impatience, sometimes Jiang Yan’s relentless prattle.
To put it sentimentally, those had been the days when life had felt most hopeful.
Without hope, a person could endure numbness indefinitely. But to glimpse hope only to lose it—that was far more suffocating than mere numbness.
He’d felt like he’d been drowning in that suffocation for years.
Only recently—or perhaps since getting closer to this family of three during the New Year—had he begun to sense that old flicker of hope again.
Which was why, even though he’d come over without taking his medication this morning, enduring the series of "little accidents" after the kids patted his shoulder, he hadn’t felt as awful as expected.
Lost in thought, he felt a small presence lean in conspiratorially. "Uncle."
Jiang Suizhi raised a brow. "Hmm?"
"I’m really good at cheering people up," Little Le Jia announced proudly. "I cheer up my sister, and I cheer up Auntie when she’s sleepy. So I can cheer you up too—I’ll tell you stories!"
That way, the sick uncle would eat properly!
After a brief silence, Jiang Suizhi chuckled softly. "Focus on feeding yourself first."
Little Le Jia patted his round belly, still full from breakfast and milk. "I’m full already."
"Not enough," Jiang Suizhi raised a hand, measuring the air above the boy’s head. "You’re still too short."
"!!!"
Little Le Jia clutched his chest, utterly devastated.
How could Uncle be like this?!
This was—this was biting the hand that fed him!
He was going to stop cheering Uncle up for five whole minutes! Hmph!
The little one turned away, refusing to speak.
Assuming their energy had simply run its course, Jiang Suizhi paid no mind and instead walked over to the dining table.
Le Qing looked up, surprised. "Mr. Xie?"
Was there something he needed from her, aside from the kids?
Jiang Suizhi nodded. "Mind if I sit?"
"Go ahead." Sensing he had something to say, Le Qing nudged her laptop aside. "Is something the matter?"
"I overheard you teaching the kids earlier," Jiang Suizhi said without preamble.
Le Qing sidestepped the statement, her voice gentle. "Let me get you some water."
Before he could decline, she’d already risen to fetch a glass, returning shortly to place it before him.
As usual, he didn’t drink, merely offering a quiet, "Thanks."
Le Qing didn’t press. She nodded lightly. "I was teaching them, yes."
"It’s rare to hear children taught that way," Jiang Suizhi tapped a finger against the glass. "Most parents tell their kids not to go off with strangers."
Why ask them what they’d do if a better relative came along?
Le Qing smiled. "Every family has its own way. I don’t have the right to keep other relatives from seeing them."
"You said you’re just their aunt," Jiang Suizhi studied her for a moment before mirroring her smile. "So if another relative wanted to care for them like you do—replace you—you wouldn’t stop them?"
The man’s eyes held the same intensity as when he’d been horseback riding, that piercing gaze that left one’s limbs tingling.
Le Qing lightly gripped her water cup beside her, pausing for a few seconds before softly responding with an "Mhm."
Jiang Suizhi's eyes darkened slightly, his tone unreadable as he repeated, "You won't stop me?"
"Mr. Xie," Le Qing once again sidestepped the question, "Do you really have mysophobia?"
The sudden use of the formal "you" caught Jiang Suizhi off guard for half a second. "What?"
Le Qing took a sip from her cup, swallowing back the nervousness that threatened to spill out. Then, lifting her gaze with a faint smile, she said, "You don’t have to go through such trouble."
"I won’t stop you—just as I’ve never stopped you from getting close to the two children." Her voice was gentle as she addressed him, "Mr. Jiang."
