The two little buns froze for two seconds before their eyes suddenly lit up, calling out in crisp unison, "Auntie!" Their voices were several pitches higher.
Though her pride had been bruised, Ye Yun couldn’t help muttering under her breath, "She says she didn’t coach them, but her kids are way more affectionate with Lin Jian than with her. Such bootlickers—doesn’t she feel awkward?"
"You’d have to be good at it first," Yu Shuqi shot back. "Why don’t you try and see if you can even lick the boot?"
The onlookers could clearly see the stark contrast—compared to their behavior around Le Qing, the two children were far more enthusiastic toward Lin Jian. The difference was obvious, and for a moment, the crowd’s gazes toward Le Qing grew complicated.
So, she’s not the one doing the scheming now—she’s letting her kids do it for her?
Awkward? Not really. Even as the two children nearly threw themselves at the other woman, Le Qing remained unfazed, simply zipping up the bag she’d been fussing with earlier, completely indifferent to how others perceived her.
She had enough self-awareness. After only a few days together, how much could the kids possibly like her?
Still, despite their excitement, the two little ones didn’t actually pounce, showing remarkable restraint. As their nominal "guardian," Le Qing had no choice but to nod slightly and greet first. "Hello."
"Hello." Earlier, Lin Jian hadn’t been close enough to get a proper look at this person. Now, up close, she found the woman’s features exquisitely carved, as if shaped by divine craftsmanship.
From the earlier conflict, it was clear that while this woman appeared gentle and soft-spoken, almost lacking edges or temper, there was an inexplicable aloofness about her. Still, by no means did she seem like someone who would let children scavenge through trash.
Living in the world of fame and fortune, Lin Jian knew better than to judge by appearances. For now, she shelved her urge to scrutinize further. "Have the kids mentioned me? I took photos of them before."
Photos?
It clicked instantly—the person standing before her was that internationally renowned photographer.
If the photographer had already appeared, then the arrival of the children’s biological father couldn’t be far off. And Le Qing hadn’t even saved up enough money yet. What terrible timing.
"They have," Le Qing replied softly. "Thank you."
Lin Jian was surprised by the response. After all, her words implied she’d witnessed how the children had been living on the streets—something that could easily expose Le Qing’s true nature.
So, was Le Qing oblivious, or simply unbothered?
"Don’t mention it." Lin Jian’s interest in her grew. "I’m Lin Jian. I heard you have work to do, and it’s noisy here. If you’re comfortable, I can take the kids to play nearby. You can pick them up when you’re done."
Among the crowd, Lin Jian was the only one Le Qing vaguely recognized—and that was only because of the novel’s plot.
But this was their first meeting, and Le Qing wasn’t entirely at ease letting them out of her sight.
As she hesitated, Little Le An tugged at her sleeve, eyes earnest. "Auntie is a good person."
Little Le An had seen it firsthand!
Le Qing was momentarily speechless, almost amused.
Well, compared to her, anyone would seem like a saint.
Just then, Little Le Jia stood up and waved for his "bad auntie" to lean down, whispering into her ear.
"Auntie pays for photos," Little Le Jia declared with entrepreneurial spirit. "You earn money, and my sister and I will earn money too."
"..."
So this was how the siblings made their early income?
It did make a strange kind of sense.
Not that she actually expected them to contribute, but this arrangement worked for both sides.
"Then I’ll trouble you with them," Le Qing conceded.
[I can’t skip work—I still need to save up for the kids’ kindergarten tuition.]
The influencers who’d been trying to get a word in but were ignored the entire time could only watch as the big shot arrived, took the two children away, and just like that, formed a connection with Le Qing.
Ye Yun and a few others, unwilling to give up, tried to follow. "Lin Jie—"
"Ye Yun!" Lin Shengxi slammed a glass onto the floor. "I said no disturbances over there! Are you still not done? Get the hell out!"
Ye Yun turned back in disbelief. How could this young master, who usually despised Le Qing, suddenly side with her and kick her out within half an hour?
Meanwhile, Le Qing acted as if none of this concerned her, picking up her camera and speaking gently to Yu Shuqi, who was still gloating. "Let’s begin."
Now, not only were Yu Shuqi and the others who’d booked sessions following Le Qing, but a crowd of onlookers had gathered, curious to see what this so-called talentless vase could possibly produce. The scene around Le Qing grew lively.
Lin Shengxi, left ignored on the other side, had never experienced such treatment before.
Weird. Before her bankruptcy, Le Qing hadn’t even registered in his eyes. Now that she was broke, suddenly everyone was interested.
What, were those clichéd rich-guy-falls-for-poor-girl tropes actually based on reality? Oh, and don’t forget the bonus tag: runaway pregnancy.
Hah. Who even was the father of Le Qing’s kids? They were oddly good-looking.
Finding new entertainment, Lin Shengxi sauntered after the crowd.
Left behind, Ye Yun seethed, glaring at their retreating figures. But she knew causing more trouble would only backfire, so she grabbed her bag and prepared to leave.
Just then, she spotted Le Qing’s jacket still draped over the couch.
A cheap, hundred-yuan thing—just like Le Qing herself. Her face darkened as she pulled out a lighter, lit a cigarette, took a few drags, then lowered her hand and pressed the burning tip straight into the fabric.
On the other side, Le Qing, camera in hand, slipped effortlessly back into her work-focused trance, completely unaware of how many in the crowd were there to mock her. But since the party was for entertainment anyway, people eagerly tried to provoke her.
"Why did you go bankr—"
Le Qing raised her camera, tuning them out. "Your makeup is bold today—it’ll work well with high-contrast visuals. Backlighting would be good. Turn slightly left."
"Raising two kids alone—did the guy behind you dump—"
Before the man could finish, a hand gently pushed him aside. He blinked, only to see Le Qing tilt her head slightly, her gaze cool, a finger pressed to her lips in a silent shush. "I’m working. Unrelated personnel, please don’t interrupt."
The woman, fully immersed in her work, shed the shallow persona of the past. An unapproachable aura radiated from her, and the man who’d tried to provoke her instinctively fell silent.
Damn. Was it his brain malfunctioning, or had Le Qing changed? Why did she suddenly seem… captivating?
Lin Shengxi stood to the side with a drink, growing more puzzled by the minute. He turned to Yu Shuqi, who’d brought Le Qing here. "Tell me, what’s the deal with her bankruptcy?"
Yu Shuqi, at best a minor influencer with no access to elite gossip channels, shrugged. "I found her on a secondhand trading app. When we met, she didn’t even have money for cake. Had to be bankrupt, right?"
In fact, over the past three years, no one had ever looked into Le Qing’s background.
All anyone knew was that she had suddenly appeared one day, flaunting wealth like all those other pretentious women, rubbing elbows in high-society circles—seemingly well-off at first glance.
Ordinary people like Yu Shuqi didn’t have the means to investigate, while those from prestigious families like Lin Shengxi simply couldn’t be bothered. And so, things had ended up this way.
But Lin Shengxi understood one thing: truly wealthy people don’t end up penniless when they go bankrupt. There was no way they’d be so destitute they couldn’t even afford a piece of cake.
If Le Qing had remained the same person she was before, Lin Shengxi wouldn’t have spared her a second glance even if she were begging on the streets.
But now, she had completely reinvented herself—shedding her past pretenses and superficiality, standing tall and unashamed in front of those who once mocked her, carving out a living for herself with grace and resilience. Lin Shengxi admired people like that.
Still, he needed to see if it was all genuine.
"Fine," he nodded. "Then let’s see what’s really going on."
Le Qing had no idea someone was digging into her past. After all, she’d never mingled with people of such high status before. Right now, she was still carefully reviewing the photo selections.
Yu Shuqi, who hadn’t had her turn yet, curiously leaned in to see what this woman was really made of.
She had assumed Le Qing was just another amateur playing at professionalism, but to her surprise, every shot in the portfolio was perfectly composed—not only capturing the right mood but also highlighting each subject’s unique features.
In an era where influencers were a dime a dozen, no one wanted to be a carbon copy of someone else. Standing out was everything.
And clearly, Le Qing knew exactly how to make that happen.
"You’ve actually studied this?" Yu Shuqi asked.
Le Qing gave a quiet hum. "About five years."
From her first part-time job in college, she had never missed a chance to improve herself. Even while working as a model, she seized every opportunity to learn from professionals. Having hit rock bottom more than once, she had learned to cling tightly to any path forward.
Though most of her work was commercial, it happened to align perfectly with what Yu Shuqi and the others were looking for.
After confirming the final edits with the previous model, Le Qing turned to grab her down jacket. The night was getting colder, and she couldn’t afford to fall sick—wasting both time and money. So absorbed in her work, she didn’t notice the large hole in the back of her coat. The cheap material was stuffed with cotton, and as she moved, tufts of it drifted out like snowflakes.
She glanced sideways. "Your turn."
The onlookers stared at the fluttering hole in her coat, an awkward silence settling over them.
Yu Shuqi, standing at the front, hadn’t noticed either. She had deliberately waited to shoot last to gauge Le Qing’s skill—and now she was genuinely impressed. Truthfully, she found it hard to be harsh toward Le Qing in this state.
Besides, after witnessing how effortlessly Le Qing had brushed off Ye Yun’s provocations, Yu Shuqi knew that picking a fight would only leave her humiliated.
The worst kind of confrontation was when you were the one losing your temper while the other person remained perfectly calm—it was a total mismatch.
Lost in thought, Yu Shuqi was startled when Le Qing suddenly stopped. "Too forced. Aren’t you used to this?"
Yu Shuqi blinked. "I’ve been trying a different style lately."
Le Qing quickly grasped her needs. Influencers had to cater to different audiences—to climb higher, they couldn’t rely solely on filters and artificial online aesthetics.
After a moment’s consideration, Le Qing stepped forward. "Watch me."
Yu Shuqi instinctively obeyed, her eyes widening as Le Qing casually sat on the ground, tilting her chin up toward the ambient fog light. Her arms relaxed at her sides, gaze focused yet distant—effortlessly striking, even in that plain down jacket, like something out of a high-fashion spread.
"You…" Yu Shuqi stammered. "How are you this good?"
Photographers often directed poses, but Le Qing was the first who could demonstrate them like a seasoned model.
"You’re missing the point," Le Qing said, lifting her eyes with a slight frown. "Got it?"
Surprised that Le Qing wasn’t sabotaging her but actually guiding her toward the exact aesthetic she wanted, Yu Shuqi flushed. "Y-yeah, got it."
Le Qing stood up—only for the hole in her coat to snag on a vine behind her, tearing further with a loud rip.
Yu Shuqi immediately grabbed her shoulder, her expression darkening at the sight. "Your coat!"
And it wasn’t torn by the vine—it looked like something had burned through it.
Le Qing glanced back at the floating cotton and shrugged. "It’s fine."
She kept the jacket on, unfazed. "Won’t affect the shoot. Let’s keep going."
Meanwhile, on a small balcony overlooking the courtyard, two children leaned against the railing, watching the scene below. Little Le’an frowned at the hole in her aunt’s coat. "196 little buns."
Lin Jian, itching to capture the moment—especially after seeing Le Qing’s demonstration—was momentarily confused. "What?"
"Auntie’s coat," Little Le’an explained. She didn’t understand money, but she remembered the day her aunt had bought the jacket online. Curious, she had asked, and Le Qing told her it cost the equivalent of 196 little buns.
She and her brother had clothes worth many, many more little buns than that.
"Is it trash?" she wondered aloud. "No… trash can’t be picked up."
She and her brother had tried before.
"What trash?" Lin Jian asked.
Little Le’an pressed her lips together. "The auntie who took Gege away said Auntie’s clothes were trash."
Lin Jian scoffed. "Don’t listen to that nonsense."
"Auntie," Little Le’an asked, "how many little buns does it take to go to kindergarten?"
That stumped Lin Jian. Her idea of kindergarten was nothing like what these kids imagined. But someone nearby cheerfully chimed in, "For an average kid? Several thousand little buns a semester."
Little Le’an’s face fell as she turned to her brother. "Gege, does that mean Auntie needs a lot of trash?"
Auntie said she was earning money to send them to kindergarten.
Maybe Gege should help Auntie earn money too.
Little Le Jia was also deep in thought. He hadn’t realized Auntie was working so hard to pay for their schooling. He had heard other kids went to kindergarten to learn how to write.
He didn’t know how to read. He wanted to learn.
The System Uncle had once told him that once he earned enough, he could go. But seeing the big hole in Auntie’s coat now made him uneasy.
"System Uncle," the little boy hesitated before asking, "can I give her clothes that aren’t trash?"
