◎ It’s Just a Small Matter (Part 2) ◎
Jiang Hechang sometimes felt so frustrated it made his liver ache.
But this brat had always been like this, and there was truly nothing he could do about it.
Just look at this—how could Le Qing possibly tolerate it?
“You go ahead and open it!” Jiang Hechang snapped. “What’s the point of you opening it? You could open a hundred more, but it still depends on whether she’s willing to write her name on it!”
One second, Le Qing was holding back laughter; the next, she couldn’t even smile.
Why did the topic circle back to her again?!
“Whether she’s willing is her business,” Jiang Suizhi retorted without hesitation, his words growing sharper. “But interfering is your mistake.”
This was the first time Le Qing had seen someone speak to their father like this.
She thought the two were about to start a full-blown argument, but after fuming for a while, Uncle Jiang just sat back down, defeated.
“Forget it, forget it.” After a long silence, Grandpa finally spoke with measured calm. “I think our family’s values aren’t the best. What do two well-behaved girls have to discuss with an old man like you?”
Once again isolated, Jiang Hechang looked like steam was about to erupt from his head. Was it so wrong to want to make amends?
“Fine, pretend I never said anything,” he grumbled.
The noisy dining table returned to an uneasy calm, as if nothing had happened. Le Qing, baffled by this family’s dynamics, quietly focused on her food.
Meanwhile, Jiang Yan, watching this scene unfold through his son’s eyes, felt a storm of emotions.
For years, he had believed the entire Jiang family was cold and distant—whether it was his father or anyone else, everyone seemed to view each other through an indistinct, unspoken filter.
No one truly understood each other. No one got close.
Growing up under his father’s watchful eye, he had unconsciously adopted many of his ways.
Only outside the Jiang family, with his younger brother and his beloved, could he breathe freely. He had thought that by striving to seize control of the Jiang family’s affairs, he could break this suffocating balance—that once he held all the power, maybe the family would change.
But now, he realized the change didn’t come from authority. It came from people.
Only Jiang Suizhi—it could only ever be Jiang Suizhi—could shatter the Jiang family’s decades of superficial pretense with his indifferent, universally dismissive attitude toward everyone.
Because he refused to live by anyone else’s rules. No matter where he was, he remained unapologetically himself.
If it had been Jiang Yan, even without the accidents, even if he had gained full control of the family, he might have been able to give his brother and his beloved a new home—but he could never have erased the influence of the previous generation.
Jiang Yan had never understood why, in the future he had glimpsed, his children and his brother still met tragic fates.
But now, it all made sense.
If he and Annie hadn’t died, Le Qing might never have suffered those misfortunes.
Jiang Suizhi would have taken the child in, but his own loneliness and brooding nature would have made him an unfit guardian. He would never admit his weaknesses, never bring the child back to the Jiang family.
He might have even suppressed his own struggles for the child’s sake, driving himself to madness.
The Jiang family would have remained unchanged.
So now, seeing them all gathered around the table—even with Jiang Suizhi’s sharp tongue and his father’s futile resistance—was nothing short of a miracle.
Remove any single piece, any single person, and this outcome would have been impossible.
At this moment, Jiang Yan finally made peace with fate.
“By the way,” Jiang Hechang suddenly spoke up between bites, “how did you manage all these years abroad? Were you alone?”
He remembered when he had gone to find Le Qing earlier, she had only mentioned taking the child from someone else—never Annie’s existence.
How had Annie escaped Jiang Yu’s clutches? Why had she ended up like this? He needed to know.
To avoid future misunderstandings, it was best to lay everything out now.
Jiang Hechang added, “I always thought your name was Le Qing.”
“It was Le Qing,” Annie said after a pause. “But some things… I don’t remember anymore.”
Hearing this, Le Qing saw an opportunity to ask Uncle Jiang for help. She set down her chopsticks. “Uncle Jiang, that document you showed me before—it mentioned that my sister and I were in an orphanage. Is that orphanage still around?”
“No.” Jiang Hechang frowned. “They said…”
He glanced at the real Le Qing, equally puzzled. “They said after you had an accident at five, the orphanage disbanded.”
Annie raised an eyebrow. “A child’s accident caused an entire orphanage to shut down?”
At the time, Jiang Hechang had been too focused on verifying Le Qing’s identity to dig deeper. “If there’s anything else you want to know, Uncle Jiang will look into it. I’ve got plenty of time now.”
Jiang Suizhi, who had just spent the last few minutes ruthlessly mocking his father, finally spoke up. “I’ll handle it.”
“You?” Jiang Hechang didn’t want him stealing the spotlight. “Don’t you have work?”
Jiang Suizhi smirked. “When have your investigations ever been accurate?”
Every time he dug into something, someone ended up gone. Who would dare let him investigate again?
Le Qing muttered under her breath, “Yours aren’t any better, Stepbro.”
“Tch.” Jiang Suizhi flicked the back of her hand where it rested on the table. “Can’t let it go, huh?”
Le Qing pulled her hand back, tucking it safely out of reach.
Not only would she not let it go, she’d save it for future mockery—every chance she got.
“That’s exactly why I’m handling it,” Jiang Suizhi said with a dry laugh. “So certain people don’t disappear mid-investigation.”
Le Qing opened her mouth, then closed it.
Fine. Mutual destruction.
They were even.
She reached for her cup, hoping a sip would ease the awkwardness she’d brought upon herself. But when she looked up, the entire table was staring at her—each with a different expression.
Even Annie, who couldn’t see, tilted her head with an amused smile.
Le Qing’s skin prickled under their gazes. She slowly withdrew her hand. “What?”
“Nothing,” Annie said cheerfully. “Just enjoying the conversation.”
Le Qing: “…”
A glance at Grandpa and Uncle Jiang revealed looks of utter devastation—like they’d just witnessed two prized cabbages being trampled by wild boars.
At this moment, Le Qing seriously considered mimicking her younger self and banging her head against the table. She’d only meant to tease—how had it spiraled into this?
“Grandpa, look!” Little Le Jia announced proudly. “I told you Uncle wouldn’t hit Auntie! They’re super close! They even mwah!”
Jiang Hechang: “!!!”
So he was the clown all along!
His lips trembled. “You two…”
He couldn’t comprehend how both of his family’s wild boars had gone after the same cabbage.
This is the Jiang family's curse—always ruining perfectly good girls.
The guilt only grew heavier!
This misunderstanding had spiraled out of control. Le Qing wished she could shove two carrots into the kids' mouths to sharpen their eyesight. They took every rumor at face value, twisting the dead into the living. Flustered and helpless, she protested, "Uncle Jiang, don’t misunderstand."
"Hmm." Jiang Suizhi gave a rare, earnest nod. "Not yet, at least."
Le Qing had had enough. Under the table, she stomped hard on his foot.
His brows lifted slightly. After a brief pause, he leaned in, lips curving as he murmured by her ear, "Thank you."
Thank her for—?
Le Qing’s face burned crimson. She yanked her foot back, fists clenched. "Focus on the matter at hand!"
She often cursed her own quick reflexes for being useless in moments like these.
She really wanted to punch him, but she feared he’d just ask her to hit him harder.
It was absurd.
And utterly exasperating.
Jiang Suizhi’s shamelessness far exceeded her expectations.
Fortunately, his brain wasn’t entirely consumed by romance. He knew when to be serious—and when to retreat. Dancing on the edge of someone’s patience was dangerous; he couldn’t push too far.
Calmly, he said, "After you told me about those things, I had someone look into them."
Le Qing froze. "That was days ago, wasn’t it?"
"Yes." Jiang Suizhi nodded. "Results should come soon."
Noticing her dazed expression, he chuckled. "What, you won’t tell me, but I’m not allowed to investigate myself?"
He meant the past she had never shared with him.
Yet the thought of someone painstakingly piecing together her history in secret left Le Qing’s chest tight.
It wasn’t discomfort—just an indescribable warmth.
In all those years of being overlooked, of overlooking herself…
She had wanted, just once, to be seen.
When she first arrived in this world, she thought it didn’t matter where she ended up. She was alone anyway, and dwelling on the past only brought pain.
But she couldn’t deny it—she cared.
Her earliest memories were of the orphanage, bullied by other children until she was too afraid to step outside. It wasn’t until much later that a middle-aged couple took her in.
Her adoptive parents, on the brink of divorce and unable to conceive, brought her home—but the reprieve lasted only months. Her adoptive father’s infidelity followed, and she became a burden overnight.
After the divorce, her adoptive mother dumped her on her father, but his new wife wanted nothing to do with her.
No one wanted her. That was the one certainty of her childhood.
Other children started kindergarten at three, primary school at seven.
But she, tossed between homes, never attended preschool. By nine, she finally entered first grade—only to find herself lost in a world that had moved on without her. The other children’s chatter about toys and cartoons might as well have been a foreign language. She was an outsider in her own classroom.
That was when Le Qing decided she hated children—or rather, the child she had been.
She grew up cautiously, lagging behind her peers, shrinking her presence to avoid being discarded again.
Unlike other kids, she never needed her parents to pick her up. So when they forgot she hadn’t come home, forgot meals, forgot winter coats, forgot hospital visits—she endured. Later, when they had a new child, New Year’s meant shopping trips, red envelopes, fireworks—for them.
Once, trailing behind the family, she tripped and fell. By the time she got up, they were gone.
She found her way home alone, only to stand outside the door, knocking three times before giving up. That night, she curled up on the doorstep, ringing in the New Year by herself.
Eventually, they even struggled to remember her name.
Le Qing learned early not to dwell on these things.
The world was full of unimportant things—best ignored, or survival would be impossible.
So she never wondered: Had they truly not noticed her vanishing in the crowd that night? Had they really slept through her knocking?
Or had they seized the chance to leave her behind for good?
Life was hard enough without asking for more.
As a child, she couldn’t understand. As an adult, she stopped trying.
All she wanted was a quiet corner to call her own, to live without envy or intrusion.
Yet in this world, no matter how much she disliked children, how little she wanted ties—
Every time she saw them, she saw her younger self.
She feared that if she didn’t treat them kindly, they’d become another Le Qing.
Step by step, she grew greedier.
And just as greed took root, someone kept telling her: It’s okay to want more.
Le Qing didn’t know what to call this feeling, but she couldn’t deny it—whenever Jiang Suizhi needed her, she couldn’t refuse.
She craved that sense of being needed. It made her existence feel worthwhile.
Like when they raced horses together, and for the first time, she felt truly alive—her pulse roaring, her spirit untamed.
She owed that to Jiang Suizhi.
She was grateful to him.
After dinner, they returned to Mingzhang Garden. No one wanted to stay overnight at the Jiang residence.
This frustrated both Jiang Hechang and Grandpa Jiang. They even joked about buying an apartment in the same complex—something to do in retirement, like square dancing or picking the kids up from school.
For once, Jiang Hechang and Grandpa agreed: Jiang Suizhi would never tolerate long-term guests. Better to buy their own place.
On the way home, Le Qing’s phone rang. Yu Shuqi’s voice bubbled through: "You’re back in the country?"
Le Qing’s lips curved unconsciously. She loved this—someone waiting for her return. "Yeah, got back two days ago. How’d you know?"
"Saw your kids’ video."
Yu Shuqi was now their biggest fan.
With a dedicated editor, footage from the camp was sent in batches, sliced into daily clips.
This must be the video from earlier that got posted.
"Your kids have been posting videos quite frequently lately. Do you have enough time to edit them all?" Yu Shuqi asked.
"No, they have a dedicated editor."
Yu Shuqi: "From the sound of it, are you planning to build an account for them?"
"Not exactly." Le Qing omitted some key details. "But it’d be nice if more people liked them."
"That’s perfect!" Yu Shuqi said excitedly on the other end. "I actually wanted to discuss something with you."
"What is it?"
"I’ve just finished filming a new drama, and to promote it, I need to make appearances on various variety shows. The director recommended a great opportunity to me." Yu Shuqi explained. "There’s a live-streaming show called Temporary Parents. Your kids are so well-behaved—could I borrow one for a couple of days? Just one would be enough. I’ll take good care of them. And if you’re planning to grow their account, this could also help attract more followers."
Temporary Parents?
Yu Shuqi continued, "I can send you the show’s script and schedule later? I’ve already reviewed it—there’s nothing harmful for the kids. My episode will only be live for two days."
Le Qing thought for a moment. "I’ll need to discuss it with their mother and ask the kids for their opinion."
"Sure!" Yu Shuqi agreed readily. "I’ll wait for your reply then."
Soon after, Yu Shuqi sent over the show’s proposal. Le Qing went through it line by line, making sure there were no hidden pitfalls before bringing it up to Annie.
The live stream would take place over the weekend, essentially giving the kids a fun and unique way to spend their days off.
Annie didn’t even glance at the proposal—since Le Qing had already checked it, she trusted it was fine.
She simply asked the two curious little ones, "Do you want to go?"
On TV! Just like last time when they played little heroes at Uncle Tan’s place!
The kids loved the idea.
So both of them nodded eagerly. "Yes!"
"Then it’s settled." Annie nodded. "Rock-paper-scissors—whoever wins gets to go."
But when faced with such an exciting opportunity, neither the older brother nor the younger sister wanted to give it up. They kept deferring to each other like polite little dinosaurs, asking pitifully, "Can’t we both go?"
Le Qing wasn’t sure about that, but she thought Yu Shuqi might struggle to handle two kids alone.
After getting the response, Yu Shuqi consulted with the show’s producer and immediately called back. "Le Qing, why don’t you come along too!"
Le Qing was surprised. "What?"
"If you don’t have any filming commitments this weekend, you and the kids can all join. We’ll each take care of one. After all, you’re their aunt. The producer mentioned they’ve seen your magazine interview with Lin Jian—having you both on could boost the show’s popularity even more. They’re willing to pay appearance fees for all three of you."
Since Annie still had some unfinished matters to handle before returning to the country, Le Qing hadn’t rushed into taking on other work. She planned to wait until everything was settled, so her schedule was wide open.
She considered it—higher popularity might speed up Annie’s recovery, and maybe even help Jiang Yan return sooner. Plus, she’d feel better keeping an eye on the kids herself.
"Alright," she agreed immediately. "I’ll bring the kids to sign the contract tomorrow."
After hanging up, she opened her phone to check the kids’ account, curious about its progress.
Among today’s posted videos, the most popular one was still the clip of Jiang Suizhi dragging the older brother forward while Grandpa chased after them with a patch of grass on his head—the sheer absurdity made the whole video hilarious.
Le Qing couldn’t help but chuckle. Then she saw Jiang Suizhi and Little Le Jia returning with their prizes.
One long-legged figure strode ahead, while a tiny shoeless figure scrambled behind, struggling to keep up.
The brother handed the only part of the rabbit plushie he could grab—its foot—to his sister.
Meanwhile, Jiang Suizhi stuffed the entire rabbit into Le Qing’s arms and asked, "Cute, isn’t it?"
From the sister’s perspective, it was clear that her uncle’s gaze never wavered—after claiming the prize, he walked straight to Le Qing.
[This line is definitely a callback to when Le Qing said "It’s kinda cute" at the start of the race!]
[The nephew’s feet were practically spinning like propellers—turns out he was just a tool for you to impress your wife. Tsk, men.]
[What’s the point of handing her the plushie? Just hug her already!]
[LOL, forget hugging—you tried to sneak in a moment with your wife, only to get intercepted by your nephew. I’m convinced this man is plotting revenge.]
[Jia Jia: Speak up for me!]
Le Qing scrolled through the comments, only snapping out of it when the car stopped in the parking lot.
They had a lot of things today—some for the kids’ camp, others gifts from Grandpa and Uncle Jiang.
Jiang Suizhi carried most of it, the kids took a few smaller items, leaving Le Qing with nothing to do but press the elevator button.
After Jiang Suizhi hauled everything inside, Le Qing followed him back out.
Noticing the little shadow behind him, Jiang Suizhi turned, surprised. "What’s up?"
"Just a small thing." Le Qing nudged the door slightly closed, hesitating before voicing the thought she’d been mulling over all evening. "Thank you, Jiang Suizhi."
Hearing this, Jiang Suizhi lowered his gaze and smiled. "You’ve been spacing out all night just to say that?"
Spacing out all night? He noticed?
"Some things are hard to figure out on your own." Seeing her still dazed, Jiang Suizhi sighed almost imperceptibly before adding with a faint smile, "But since you’re thanking me, it’s not too much to ask for a thank-you gift, right?"
Sure enough, under his gaze, she snapped out of it, her ears turning red again.
"What are you thinking?" he teased.
Le Qing shot back, "What are you thinking?"
She doubted his idea of a "thank-you gift" would be anything proper.
"If we’re talking about gratitude, a hug isn’t too much to ask, is it?" Jiang Suizhi’s eyes darkened slightly. "The comments are spreading rumors that I bullied a kid because I didn’t get to hug you. Now that I think about it, I did miss out."
He spread his arms slightly but didn’t step forward, patiently waiting for Le Qing to make the first move.
Even so, Le Qing felt his gaze dissecting her inch by inch—his stare was too sharp to ignore.
Truthfully, Jiang Suizhi wasn’t entirely confident either. He felt he’d already gotten plenty of favors today.
But humans are never satisfied—especially when it comes to someone they desperately crave.
Seeing Le Qing hesitate, he started to lower his arms, about to say never mind.
But then she moved.
She took a small step forward and hugged him lightly—fully aware of his intentions.
Jiang Suizhi froze for a rare second. Just as she tried to pull away, he suddenly tightened his arms around her, chuckling lowly. "You’re really something."
Always full of surprises, impossible to resist, impossible to control.
Le Qing squirmed slightly, mumbling, "You’ve gotten plenty of hugs now."
"Mm." Jiang Suizhi admitted candidly, "I also have something small to say."
"What is it?"
The man's warm breath brushed against her ear, carrying the weight of his low laughter: "I love you."
Le Qing: "..."
She froze for a moment, as if infected by his emotions, her fingers trembling uncontrollably.
Fortunately, Jiang Suizhi had already let her go by then. He leaned down slightly, tidying the stray strands of hair by her ear, his fingertips grazing the earlobe he had longed to touch but never dared. "No need to thank me," he said.
"Just like how I love you," he continued, "it's just a small thing."
Ordinary, mundane, yet happening every single moment.
Le Qing's throat tightened, but no words came out.
Then, a faint rustling sound came from behind them.
Both turned their heads simultaneously to see three heads—large and small—stacked together in the barely open doorframe, folded in layers, impossible to miss.
Annie asked, "Did they kiss?"
The two little ones sighed in disappointment: "Nope!"
Even Jiang Yan chimed in with exasperation: "Hopeless."
Le Qing: "..."
Do you really think you're being quiet?
