Le Qing found herself with two little shadows trailing behind her as she moved from the living room to the dining area and then to the kitchen. The clingy duo followed her every step, as if afraid she might vanish at any moment.
She had already turned on the TV for them to watch cartoons, but the animation held little appeal. Le Qing had no idea what children their age enjoyed, so she let them be—as long as they stayed quiet.
But when she nearly bumped into Little Le'an for the umpteenth time while fetching ingredients from the fridge, she finally stopped and asked, "What do you two want?"
Little Le'an shook her head. "Dunno."
Though she wanted to watch cartoons, she also wanted to stick close to her older brother, copying whatever he did.
Le Qing turned her gaze to the other child.
The little boy was only slightly taller than his sister, but his expression carried the gravity of someone years older. Holding his sister's hand, he said, "Le'an said you can cook."
He never called her "Aunt," only "you."
Le Qing didn’t mind. Just as she often forgot their names, their family bond was purely superficial—no need for pretense.
"You couldn’t cook before," Little Le Jia pointed out.
"People can learn anything," Le Qing replied, stepping around them. "Just like you can’t write now, but does that mean you never will?"
The logic was sound, and Little Le Jia found himself reluctantly convinced. Compared to the short-tempered "bad aunt" from before, he much preferred this version who reasoned with him—at least he could follow her train of thought.
Not wanting the kids to disrupt her plans, Le Qing pointed to the wall. "If you want to watch, fine, but don’t block the doorway. There are small stools in the living room—bring them here and sit."
She had bought the stools during their shopping trip earlier. The children were so short that even brushing their teeth was a hassle; they usually had to crouch by the low faucet in the bathroom.
Once the two settled on their stools, Le Qing handed them a tablet, pulling up a shopping app. "While you’re at it, pick out some clothes you like. Tap here to add them to the cart. I’ll order them later."
She had originally planned to buy clothes at the mall, but the prices had deterred her. Children’s clothing in stores was exorbitantly priced, and given their current financial situation, online shopping was the only option.
The siblings exchanged glances, hesitant.
Their "bad aunt" had rarely bought them new clothes before—only when their old ones became unbearably tight. And even then, the replacements were itchy and uncomfortable. But the clothes on the tablet looked warm and stylish, a far cry from what they were used to. Plus, she had just bought them thick new blankets today.
Little Le Jia whispered to his sister, "Is she lying?"
The "bad aunt’s" words were as reliable as a ghost’s promise.
He only trusted his sister.
Little Le'an shook her head eagerly, pointing at a pink outfit on the screen. "Brother, I like this one!"
Her brother was smarter—he’d know how to add things to the cart. She didn’t.
Though reassured, Little Le Jia wasn’t entirely convinced. This was his first time shopping like this, and it took him a while to recall the steps Le Qing had mentioned.
Hmph. He wouldn’t ask her for help.
Even if she was being genuine now, he couldn’t risk her going back on her word later.
His eyes darted around before landing on an idea. Pulling out his phone, he started recording a video, narrating in a serious tone: "Can you believe it, folks? Auntie’s buying clothes for me and my sister today—and we get to pick them ourselves!"
Perfect. Now the "bad aunt" couldn’t back out.
He filmed in segments, even documenting his selection process. Soon, he got carried away, thrilled at the novelty of choosing clothes based on preference. His tiny fingers tapped away, adding items to the cart without restraint.
Beside him, Little Le'an blinked in confusion. "Brother…?"
While cooking, Le Qing overheard the siblings whispering. By the time she finished, their voices had escalated into a full-blown argument, faces flushed and tempers flaring.
She turned to find them no longer side by side—instead, they had dragged their stools to opposite sides of the doorway like little guardian statues, stretching their arms to snatch the tablet from each other.
Le Qing turned off the stove and approached. "What’s the fight about?"
Little Le Jia turned his face away, refusing to speak.
Little Le'an tugged at the tablet. "Brother picked ugly stuff!"
"Yours is uglier!"
"Other kids don’t wear dragons!"
"Other kids don’t wear green socks and sparkly shoes either!"
"…" Le Qing had no idea what they were talking about. She plucked the tablet from their hands and glanced at the cart—then nearly winced.
Both children had… unique tastes. The girl adored anything flashy and rainbow-colored, while the boy favored clothes printed with edgy dragon motifs, paired with skinny jeans and loafers.
Their aesthetics were a decade ahead of their peers.
Little Le'an jabbed a finger accusingly. "Brother, no one will like your videos if you dress like that!"
"Liar!" Little Le Jia retorted stubbornly. "Lots of people watch on their phones!"
From their bickering, Le Qing pieced together where they’d picked up these styles. She held out her hand. "Give me your phones. Let me see what you’ve been watching."
To her surprise, both children clutched their devices tightly—especially Little Le Jia.
Little Le'an looked conflicted. "Auntie, you said we can’t show our phones to anyone."
"I said don’t show your wallet to strangers," Le Qing corrected, crouching to their level. "I just want to see what videos you watch."
She didn’t want them influenced by inappropriate content at such a young age.
Unlike her brother, Little Le'an had no secrets on her phone. After a brief hesitation, she handed it over.
A quick scroll confirmed Le Qing’s suspicions—their feeds were full of cringe-worthy, over-the-top videos, all heavily liked.
Just as she was about to speak, a familiar yet distorted face caught her eye.
Before she could process it, she tapped the video. The clip showed the children’s bleak, empty room, embellished with a gaudy "prosperity" filter. The boy’s face was warped by the effect, his eyes and proportions unnaturally exaggerated as he shouted, "Hey, fam!" repeatedly to a nonexistent audience, accompanied by deafening DJ music.
Her fingers twitched.
If not for Little Le Jia’s striking features—rare even among kids—she might not have recognized him.
The video had a handful of likes and two saves. She didn’t need to guess who those belonged to.
Le Qing took a deep breath. "Who taught you to film like this?"
"That’s how everyone does it online!" Little Le'an said innocently. "Brother worked really hard on it!"
Le Qing cast a quiet glance at the other child, who was gripping his phone tightly. "I'm still learning. It'll get better," the boy mumbled.
So he thought he just hadn’t mastered it yet—no wonder he wanted to buy those kinds of clothes.
Without even a kindergarten diploma, the child naturally didn’t understand big data or how to search properly. He just kept scrolling through whatever popped up, with no one to guide him, and ended up thinking this was what was trendy.
"You can’t learn this kind of stuff," Le Qing said, closing the video.
"Why not?" Little Le Jia didn’t understand.
Le Qing wasn’t sure how to explain it to a child, so she switched tactics. She pulled up the plain camera, recorded a simple video of him, and handed it back. "You look better without all those effects."
"!"
This was the first time his "mean aunt" had ever complimented him. Little Le Jia’s brain short-circuited.
Little Le'an peeked over and nodded in agreement. "It’s true! Big bro, post this one!"
Kids were naturally curious about the internet, and Le Qing didn’t want to crush their enthusiasm—she just needed to clean up their watch history later. So she didn’t ask why they wanted to post videos.
She turned to bring out the dishes. "Go wash your hands for dinner."
Little Le'an jumped up excitedly, raising her hand. "Auntie, I’ll get the bowls!"
She adored her new little lamb-themed bowl and insisted on fetching it herself.
Meanwhile, while Le Qing was busy with the food, Little Le Jia dug out the video she had just recorded on his sister’s phone. He stared at it for a long time but couldn’t see how it was any better than the ones he made himself.
Truth be told, he and his sister both had secrets.
His sister could hear what people were thinking.
And he had a talking "uncle" in his head.
The uncle knew he and his sister were being mistreated by their mean aunt, so he gave them a way to take care of themselves—a system where they could exchange likes for things they needed.
The uncle said this was the era of new media, and since Little Le Jia was cute, he could definitely make it work.
So he tried. But no one liked or saved his videos. The only comments were from him and his sister.
He had practiced those hand waves and hip shakes so hard, yet no one watched.
Even the system was baffled. It was a proper system, designed to give its little host the best advice. It thought his videos were great—so lively and engaging!
Little Le Jia whispered, "Uncle, my sister said it’s good… and that person said so too."
The system hesitated before reluctantly replying, "You don’t have to post just one. Post both and see which one people like more!"
That made sense!
Little Le Jia dashed to the bathroom, uploaded both videos, and only then felt at ease enough to go eat.
As he washed his hands, he suddenly remembered something else—he quickly dug up his "evidence" and posted that too.
The system watched him scrub his hands and asked, puzzled, "The weird aunt already bought everything you wanted for your sister. You’re not starving anymore. So what do you even need to exchange for now?"
Originally, it was the "Villain Redemption System." Its little host was the antagonist of a novel—a boy whose mother died after giving birth to him and his sister, leaving them to suffer under their cruel aunt’s abuse.
Later, their uncle took them in, only for them to learn their father was also long gone. The blow was devastating.
Their uncle, fighting tooth and nail in a ruthless family power struggle, had grown cold and distant. The kids absorbed that demeanor.
And when their uncle was later assassinated, the last person who cared for them was gone. To protect his sister and his uncle’s legacy, Le Jia hardened into a ruthless business machine—the ultimate villain.
To save him, the system had arrived early, giving the siblings the means to survive.
But… things had gone slightly off-script.
The system never expected its adorable little host would get zero traction online—even though it adored his videos.
Nor did it expect the abusive aunt to suddenly act like a different person. It couldn’t figure her out yet.
Little Le Jia was also stumped. Before, a handful of likes could barely get him a snack. But now, there was a whole table of delicious food in front of him.
He used to just want to survive with his sister. Now, they had clothes, food, and more.
So… what did he even need anymore?
Before he could think it through, his mean aunt’s voice came from the doorway. "Do you know how to wash your hands?"
Startled, Little Le Jia nearly toppled off his stool.
Le Qing, who had come to check on him, was equally startled and instinctively caught him—only to feel the child trembling uncontrollably in her arms.
In the past, mistakes meant a beating. It was a reflex he couldn’t suppress, though he’d taught himself not to show fear.
He braced for scolding, but when he looked up, his aunt wasn’t even glaring. She just set him down, turned off the tap, and handed him his new little towel. "Dry them."
"Le Jia." The name felt unfamiliar on her tongue. She paused, then said quietly, "I won’t hit you anymore."
Little Le Jia froze. But he couldn’t read minds—he had no idea what she was thinking.
At the table, the three ate in silence, each absorbed in their phones.
The kids kept refreshing their videos, counting likes. Le Qing, meanwhile, had been added to a group chat by Yu Shuqi—a gathering planned for later that week.
Aside from Yu Shuqi, she didn’t know anyone else. So she changed her group nickname to "Photographer & Secondhand Sales" and ignored the passive-aggressive comments, simply typing, "DM for rates."
Putting her phone down, she did a quick calculation—this gig would earn her a few thousand.
"Big bro, how many likes is this?"
"One, two, three, four… so many!"
The two little heads huddled together, so engrossed that even with their new child-friendly utensils, they managed to smear food on their faces. Their whispers reached Le Qing, reminding her—if she went to work, who would watch them?
She didn’t know anyone in this world. There was no one to leave them with.
But weren’t these kids supposed to be working too? Where? Surely not with those… questionable videos.
She tapped the table lightly, drawing their attention away from their screens.
Realizing that both kids in the book were little geniuses destined for greatness, Le Qing didn’t underestimate them and asked sincerely, “Might I ask where you two are employed?”
The two little ones blinked their four eyes in unison: “?”
Their gazes were clear yet utterly clueless.
