Chapter 28
Chapter 28: Two Bastards
A whole carousel of expressions flickered across the three kids’ faces—shock, panic, dread. Then they snapped out of it and bolted for the building in the middle of the courtyard.
As they ran, they screamed, “Qian Qi’s back! Qian Qi’s back!”
It sounded like an enemy alert. The entire compound went instantly on guard. Qian Qi even thought she heard chairs scraping inside, followed by a chaotic rush of footsteps—then, just as quickly, an eerie calm.
She scratched her forehead, baffled. “Don’t tell me I’m a bastard here too?”
The System answered with a single cheerful emoji: ^_^
Qian Qi stared at it. “…Wow. I’ve really grown. I can read an entire essay from one face.”
Damn it. How much garbage had the original Qian Qi left behind?
Still annoyed, she fished a small mirror from her pocket. Ever since she’d learned about her rough-face setting, she’d forced herself to carry one. Practice expressions. Don’t accidentally look like a villain when she wasn’t trying to be.
Otherwise, one day she’d go to do something shady, flash that terrifying grin, and blow her cover on the spot.
The thought made her mouth twitch into that exact grin.
“…Ugh.”
She adjusted her face, took a breath, and stepped into the building.
It was dead quiet. Not a single person in sight. The children were hiding who knew where, and her flip-flops slapped against the tile, loud and lazy, echoing down the corridor like she owned the place.
The farther she went, the stranger it felt.
The layout was exactly like the orphanage in her previous life. Same turns. Same rooms. Same bones.
So the woman on that call…
Qian Qi slowed, then sped up, heading straight for a room on the first floor.
Before she reached the director’s office, the door opened.
A middle-aged woman stepped out. Her long black hair was pinned up in a simple bun, with a few loose strands drifting along her cheeks. She looked gentle in a way that felt almost unreal.
Qian Qi’s eyes paused on her face. A faint, instinctive disappointment flickered through her.
She’d thought…
How stupid. Her director mom couldn’t be here. The voice wasn’t even the same.
“Qi Qi, you’re here so early?” Xiang Wen Yun’s face lit up when she saw her. She stepped aside and made room, smiling warmly. “Come in.”
Qian Qi followed her inside.
The office was clean, tidy, and unexpectedly cozy. It matched Xiang Wen Yun’s soft vibe—warm and calm, like the kind of room that never saw a tantrum.
Nothing like her director mom from her previous life, who had the temper of a devil pepper and spent her days getting so mad at naughty kids she looked ready to combust. Her office had always been a battlefield.
But maybe it was that kind of battlefield that raised kids who were confident and loud and impossible to crush.
Qian Qi couldn’t help smiling a little. Back then, she’d been the worst troublemaker in the whole place. The kids called her their king. Climbing trees, picking fights, digging holes—if someone couldn’t imagine it, she’d do it first.
And who would’ve guessed that beneath her “elegant college lady” skin was such a shameless little heart?
Ahem.
She snapped back to reality and set the fruit she’d brought on the side table.
“Why did you bring so much?” Xiang Wen Yun scolded softly.
It sounded like scolding, but her tone was gentle. Her eyes looked watery, and she swallowed hard like she was holding something back. For a moment, Qian Qi couldn’t tell if this woman was simply kind… or if she was her birth mother.
They didn’t look alike, though. Not even close.
Xiang Wen Yun steadied herself and said, “Qi Qi, take these back with you when you leave. We don’t lack food here.”
“Mm,” Qian Qi replied vaguely.
She had no intention of taking anything back, but she wasn’t about to do the whole polite push-and-pull. It always felt weirdly emotional.
She sat on a stool, hooked one foot on the rung, and swung it back and forth like a restless chick. “Director, let me see the land-rights contract.”
Xiang Wen Yun sat behind the desk, pulled several pages from a drawer, and hesitated. “Why do you want to see that?”
Qian Qi didn’t answer. She skimmed the contract fast.
She’d looked it up the day before. In this world, orphanages fell into two categories: ordinary orphanages and Awakener orphanages. Ordinary ones were privately run, and the director had to scrape together funding alone. Awakeners Association-supported ones could send Awakened children to Awakener elementary school, middle school, even high school for free.
Since dungeons appeared, orphans had exploded in number. Most were dumped into ordinary orphanages first. If a child awakened later, the director could send them to an Awakener orphanage and receive a generous support payment.
But Xiang Wen Yun couldn’t even come up with five hundred thousand. Which meant Bright Orphanage hadn’t had a single Awakened child in years.
Worse, the land rights expired in twenty days.
And this woman had waited until now to bring it up.
“Did you try to find sponsors?” Qian Qi asked, lifting her eyes.
Xiang Wen Yun’s lips moved. Embarrassment flashed through her gaze. “I did. I’m just… not capable.”
“They said if we can’t find someone to take over, they’ll reclaim the property,” Xiang Wen Yun said quietly. “The children will be sent to other orphanages.”
Her fingers drifted to the photo frame on the desk. A group picture—her and the kids, smiling. Qian Qi was in it too.
“The conditions at those other places…” Xiang Wen Yun’s voice tightened. “They’re run for profit. The children don’t eat enough. They only wait, hoping one of them awakens.”
She gripped the contract, knuckles whitening. “I’m not at ease. If we could find parents willing to adopt them before we disperse—even if it’s just a substitute…”
It would still be better than sending them to those places. If they were lucky, maybe they’d find real love.
Then Xiang Wen Yun seemed to realize how it sounded and hurriedly added, “But don’t worry. I’ll still send you your living expenses on time. I plan to work at another orphanage. I have experience—my salary will definitely be enough to support you through university.”
Qian Qi watched her for a beat, then nodded once. “Okay.”
She didn’t say she’d help with the land problem. She stood up instead. “I’m going to walk around.”
On the way out, she casually snapped two bananas off the bunch.
The moment she opened the office door, two little radish-heads toppled inward—kids pressed against the door, eavesdropping. They smacked right into her.
It was like they’d touched a hot stove. They sprang back, faces white with terror, and sprinted away.
Qian Qi stood there, bananas in hand, speechless.
“…Am I some kind of monster?” she muttered.
Because in her old life, the little kids had loved her.