Chapter 29
Chapter 29: Qian Qi Was Naughty
The orphanage’s main building had five floors.
The first floor was a row of multipurpose rooms. Some held toys—donations or purchases—some held beginner books for different ages. Everything was neatly arranged, not a speck of chaos anywhere.
One room was different: the toddler room. Soft mats covered the floor, and three tiny kids—one or two years old—crawled around giggling like they had no worries in the world.
An elderly woman watched over them. When she saw Qian Qi, clear resistance flickered in her eyes, but she still nodded politely.
Qian Qi nodded back and headed straight upstairs, pretending not to notice.
The second floor was for kindergarten-aged children. They sat in class with their backs straight, all silent, but those bright little eyes kept sneaking peeks toward the door.
And the moment they saw Qian Qi, their clean, innocent stares turned into a mix of fear and weird excitement—like she was both a horror story and a live performance.
The teacher was calling attendance. “Little Min? Little An? Where did those two run off to? They’d better not run into Qian Qi…”
She looked up—and found Qian Qi standing in the doorway.
The teacher froze for half a second, then lowered her head and pretended she’d seen nothing.
Qian Qi stood there, also frozen. “…Really?”
She turned and left. The instant she stepped out of their line of sight, the classroom exploded.
“That’s her? That’s the Qian Qi the older brothers and sisters talked about?”
“She’s so scary! She looks like a bad person!”
“Is she going to eat us?”
“Dummy! Only magic creatures eat people. People don’t eat people!”
“But what if she’s a magic creature that can turn into a person? Then she could eat people!”
“Whoa! That totally makes sense!”
Qian Qi heard every word. She took a slow breath.
Don’t get mad. They’re kids. Kids say nonsense.
Still fuming, she stomped up to the third floor.
The third floor was for older classes. The fourth and fifth floors were dorm rooms. The whole place ran on a skeleton crew: five staff members total, plus a cook who handled the meals. No extra hands, no spare eyes.
The kids on the third floor were steadier than the kindergarteners—especially the middle-schoolers. They looked at Qian Qi with fear… and barely concealed contempt.
For middle-schoolers, Qian Qi had no patience.
She bared her teeth in a nasty grin and dragged her thumb across her throat.
“What are you staring at? Keep looking and I’ll beat you up!”
The kids scattered like startled birds.
The System’s panel drifted beside her, unhelpful as always.
“Wow,” it said. “You’re so childish.”
Qian Qi snorted and turned to head back down. Then she caught two little heads peeking from the stairwell corner—the same two kids from earlier.
They stared at her, wide-eyed and curious. The second they realized they’d been spotted, they took off down the stairs like their lives depended on it.
Qian Qi scratched her head and muttered, “System, are they scared of my face, or did the original me actually do something awful?”
The panel responded immediately, cheerful as a knife. “Please be honest with yourself. Whether it’s the original you or current you, you’re a bastard. ^_^”
Qian Qi sighed. “…Okay. Thanks.”
She trudged back downstairs, heading toward the cafeteria—only to spot the three kids from earlier back at the washbasin, scrubbing clothes that clearly weren’t theirs.
She took a bite of her banana, squatted beside them, and jerked her chin. “Hey. Need a hand?”
The three kids jumped like she’d materialized out of a nightmare. They clutched their clothes, shoulders stiff, eyes darting everywhere except at her.
Only one boy, a little braver, shook his head fast. “No! No, thanks! We’ll do it ourselves!”
Everyone here knew Qian Qi had absurd hand strength. If she washed clothes, she’d probably scrub holes straight through them. And she didn’t even wash as clean as a machine.
The three dragged their basin backward and scrubbed harder, desperate to finish the older brothers’ and sisters’ clothes and disappear.
“Fine,” Qian Qi said, wounded but stubborn. “I was just asking.”
She took another bite, then asked casually, “Is the director good to you?”
The three kids looked up at her like she’d asked if water was wet. Then they dropped their gazes and kept scrubbing.
“Director Mom is the best.”
“Nothing bad? Not even a little?” Qian Qi leaned closer, thick-skinned now. She even ruffled their hair. “Tell me in detail. I’ll give you candy.”
She pulled out a handful of candy from her pocket—bought on the way over.
The System’s panel practically gagged. “Wow, you scumbag… what are you teaching little kids?”
One of the boys couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes went red as he glared at her. “Director Mom isn’t bad at all! You’re bad!”
“Director Mom treated you the best, and she sent you to university,” another boy snapped. “And you still want to talk bad about her?”
“Qian Qi is so bad! You didn’t even come back for New Year to visit Director Mom!” the third boy burst out. “Director Mom cried!”
Then, like they’d decided she was hopeless, all three lifted their chins stubbornly.
“Don’t talk to us! If you’re going to hit us, then hit us! We hate you anyway!”
They looked wronged to the bone, eyes red and shining, and Qian Qi’s stomach tightened. She regretted being so blunt.
“All right, all right,” she said quickly, softer now. “I’m bad. I was wrong. Sorry.”
She ruffled their heads again. They squeezed their eyes shut out of habit, bracing for pain that didn’t come.
Qian Qi sighed. “Here. Sister was wrong. This is compensation.”
She shoved the candy into their hands and stood to leave.
Behind her, the three boys stared at the candy, then at each other, as if reality had cracked.
“Did… did Qian Qi just apologize?” one whispered.
“In my memory, she never apologizes,” another whispered back.
Then a new fear struck.
“Wait… what if it’s chili candy?”
Child A’s voice trembled with suspicion.
Child B stared at the candy like it was a bomb. “You taste it first…”
“No, no,” Child A said immediately. “The younger one goes first…”
Child B pointed at Child C without shame. “He’s the smallest. He goes first!”
Child C stared at them. “…I’m small, not stupid.”
A few minutes later, Child C finally slid a candy into his mouth—careful, like he expected betrayal. His eyes narrowed… then softened.
“It’s sweet.”
“Whoa… it’s actually candy!”
“It’s so good! So sweet!”
The three boys looked up at the blue, cloudless sky, and for some reason, the day felt sweeter than it had any right to.
If only the days ahead could stay this sweet.
The orphanage had two buildings in total: the main building and the cafeteria. The front yard was for hanging clothes and quilts. A small playground sat on the east side. And in the back—neat rows of a vegetable garden, carefully tended, bursting with fresh greens and tomatoes.
Seeing the garden hit Qian Qi with a sudden wave of familiarity. In her previous life, Bright Orphanage had a garden too. After she grew out of her dig-holes-and-start-wars phase, she’d helped her director mom tend it until she started genuinely liking farming.
When her exam results came out, she’d wanted to apply to an agricultural university. But farming wouldn’t make her rich, and being rich mattered if she wanted to help the orphanage. Her director mom had told her that if she could enter an agricultural research institute someday, it would give Bright Orphanage a good reputation and attract more sponsorship.
Looking back, it had probably been an excuse—one she’d used to chase what she wanted.
Her director mom had even paid for her school herself. Qian Qi had worked hard, won scholarships, and her mentor had said she had the talent to make it into an agricultural research institute.
The thought squeezed her chest. She walked slowly through the garden, and the moment she imagined her director mom hearing about her sudden death, it hurt in a way she couldn’t shake.
Distracted, she didn’t watch her footing.
Something caught her foot, and she pitched forward, face-first toward Mother Earth.
Worse—right where she was falling, a sharp black object stuck up from the soil, aimed straight at her face.
Holy shit.
Her face was already a disaster. She could not afford extra disfigurement.
In a split second, she kicked and lunged, shifting the impact point from her face to her chest. Even in crisis, she couldn’t resist adding sound effects:
“Ow ow ow—this is going to kill me!”
But the pain never came.
That fall dropped her into an entirely different space.