The Vicious Aunt of the Genius Twins

Chapter 2

Still, Qiao Lan was genuinely curious about how much the two kids had managed to save. When she checked, though, she found only a few hundred yuan inside.

She chuckled softly. It seemed the two little ones hadn’t yet started earning much.

But her amusement soon faded into a sigh. How ironic—just a minute ago, she’d had even less money than these two kids.

Placing the phone back under the child’s pillow, Qiao Lan added, "Don’t show your phone or wallet to anyone from now on, okay?"

Little Qiao'an nodded half-understandingly, but what stuck with her more was that her aunt didn’t want her money. She and her brother had saved for so long—enough for lots of bread, she’d heard.

"Auntie," she pressed anxiously, "aren’t we buying Brother back?"

Qiao Lan pulled the blanket over her. "You don’t need to spend your money. Go to sleep."

The child stared at her with wide, pleading eyes, as if on the verge of tears again.

After a brief silence, Qiao Lan awkwardly mimicked the way people on TV comforted kids, patting the blanket twice. "He’ll come back."

[I heard sick kids are hard to soothe. Please don’t cry.]

Hearing this, Little Qiao'an squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back unshed tears.

If Brother wasn’t back yet, she couldn’t afford to make Auntie angry.

Qiao Lan was surprised by how well-behaved the child was. Once the girl fell asleep, she stayed by the bed until the fever broke before finally stepping out.

Passing the bathroom, she paused and turned back to glance in the mirror. Seeing her own familiar face staring back, she couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. The world had truly gone mad.

Yet that familiarity also brought her a strange sense of comfort. At least now she could think clearly about what to do next.

She wasn’t good at building relationships with kids, but she wasn’t worried about her strained ties with these two. Eventually, they’d return to their biological father and a loving stepmother. She was just a minor villain in their early story.

Surveying the apartment—a spacious four-bedroom, two-living-room unit in a prime location, she reminded herself that this had been transferred to her name by the twins’ mother. At least she wouldn’t be thrown out penniless. When the time came to part ways, she could earn enough to rent a small place for herself.

For now, her only tasks were to repay the money her previous self had squandered from the twins and ensure they stayed healthy until their father came for them.

But both were near-impossible missions.

As a fresh graduate with no savings,She had no idea where to find a job that could help her earn enough before their father showed up.

And the other child had already been sold off by her previous self.

In the dream plot, she never bought the boy back. Instead, he pretended to be mentally unstable until the buyers returned him in disgust.her previous self then threw a fit, accusing them of breaching the contract, and managed to claw back half the money.

But even that half plunged the spendthrift woman into financial ruin, making her resent the kids even more. When she discovered they’d started earning money on their own, she schemed daily to take it from them.

Qiao Lan exhaled. She couldn’t wait for the boy to be returned—that debt would land squarely on her shoulders.

With one child still sick at home, she couldn’t leave yet. But she had a week before the boy’s return in the original timeline. She still had a chance to act first.

She had to bring him back, but she couldn’t be the passive party—otherwise, the penalty fees would be astronomical.

Until then, she couldn’t touch the money from selling the child. She needed a fast-paying job to stabilize her situation.

A twinge of envy struck her. Even these two kids had managed to save a few hundred yuan. What had they been doing?

By evening, the sick child woke up, her fever gone and color returning to her cheeks. Qiao Lan wiped her face and handed her clothes. "We’re going downstairs. Come with me."

[Such a young child shouldn’t be left alone at home.]

Though unsure of her aunt’s intentions, Little Qiao'an didn’t dare disobey. She quietly dressed herself, head bowed.

But Qiao Lan frowned. Even in the thickest clothes she could find, the girl still looked underdressed—while the original owner’s closet overflowed with designer labels.

After rummaging, she managed to dig out a scarf and hat that fit the child, finally somewhat satisfied.

Her gaze lingered on the luxury items she own. An idea sparked—she had no interest in these things. Selling them secondhand could at least ease the immediate crisis.

Back in college, she’d worked part-time as a model and picked up photo-editing skills from photographers. For practice, she carefully photographed one of the less expensive bags and lightly edited the images on her phone before listing it at the market price on a resale platform.

[If this sells, at least the kids won’t go hungry.]

Little Qiao'an looked up, puzzled. Was this really her aunt’s voice?

The old Auntie would’ve snapped, "All you do is eat. Skipping a meal won’t kill you, you little burdens."

Pressing her lips together, the girl touched the warm hat and scarf but stayed silent.

When they got home, she’d secretly message her brother. He was so much smarter—he’d know what was happening.

Outside, a fine drizzle drifted through the air. As Qiao Lan stepped out of the elevator, a gust of cold wind hit her face. Being a typical southerner, she instinctively shoved her hands into her pockets and walked a few steps before suddenly stopping, as if realizing something.

When she turned around, the child was still trailing closely behind her. Bundled up tightly, Little Qiao'an struggled to see the ground, her neck stiff as she hurried to keep up while carefully avoiding a stumble—her movements resembling those of a tiny penguin.

Timidly, the child murmured, "Auntie, I’m walking."

Don’t be angry.

Qiao Lan fell silent. She wasn’t used to close contact with others, yet she couldn’t ignore the child’s earnest efforts.

Her fingers twitched inside her pocket. "Can I hold your hand?"

The question seemed directed at the child, yet also at herself.

Little Qiao'an’s eyes widened abruptly, as if caught off guard.

Seeing this, Qiao Lan grew even more uneasy. Without hesitation, she reached out and grasped the child’s small, icy hand.

Her hand is so tiny—how did she manage to hold that big bowl earlier?

So cold. I’ll buy her gloves once I have money.

Little Qiao'an stared blankly as her aunt pulled her sleeve down slightly, covering their joined hands, then numbly followed her forward.

What’s going on? Why is she acting so strange since she got sick?

When they arrived at the neighborhood grocery store, Qiao Lan instinctively started, "Do you—"

She cut herself off mid-sentence. The meager balance in her bank account hardly gave her the right to ask what the child wanted to eat.

So she changed course. "Is there anything you don’t eat?"

Little Qiao'an shook her head vacantly.

At least she’s easy to feed.

Feeling slightly better, Qiao Lan released her hand. "Walk in front of me. No running around."

"Okay."

With just the two of them at home, and the child having just recovered from illness, Qiao Lan didn't plan to cook anything heavy. She had just picked up some greens when she noticed the child tugging at an empty bag, gazing at her expectantly.

Almost pleadingly, Little Qiao'an offered, "Auntie, I’ll help you carry things."

If her aunt liked it, then Little Qiao'an wouldn’t just prove she was easy to feed she’d also show she was obedient. That way, her aunt wouldn’t sell her off too.

Nearby, a mother scolded her son, who was throwing a tantrum for snacks. "Look at that child over there, helping her aunt carry vegetables. All you do is whine when we go out."

Despite her words, the mother still grabbed a few snacks for her son, picked him up, and left.

Once they were gone, the surroundings quieted. Qiao Lan studied the child before her no crying, no fussing, never reaching out greedily for anything. It was remarkably worry-free.

"What can you carry?" She smiled, placing a 50 cent lollipop into the child’s hands. "Hold this."

That’s really all I can spare.

On the way back, Qiao Lan's hands were full, leaving her unable to hold the child. She slowed her pace, but after a few steps, Little Qiao'an turned back nervously, extending her small hand—the lollipop still carefully cradled in her palm. "Auntie, you forgot the candy."

"Mm." Qiao Lan nodded. "It’s for you."

Little Qiao'an blinked, hesitant. "I... can eat it?"

"Good kids get candy." Qiao Lan's lips curved slightly. "Turn around. Don’t look at me—watch where you’re going."

Since she couldn’t hold the child, she made her walk ahead to prevent falls or getting lost.

Even after returning to the warmth of their home and sitting on the floor, Little Qiao'an still felt it was unreal. She clutched the candy, not daring to eat it.

"Sit on the couch."

At her aunt’s voice, the child looked up, confused.

"From now on, you can’t sit on the floor without my permission." Qiao Lan pointed to the sofa. "Couches are for sitting, not decoration. Understand?"

It sounded stern, yet why didn’t it feel scary at all?

By the time Little Qiao'an processed it, she was already on the couch, and her aunt had walked into the kitchen, satisfied.

In the end, she didn’t eat the candy. Instead, she secretly took out her phone, found her brother’s contact, and followed the steps he’d taught her, whispering several voice messages.

"Brother, I’m sick."

"But Auntie seems sick too. She’s acting really weird."

"She hugged me..."

Meanwhile, in another household, Little Qiao Jia immediately rushed to his room upon receiving his sister’s messages.

The couple who’d bought him had grown accustomed to his behavior—this child, though strikingly handsome, was quiet and odd-tempered, prone to inexplicable outbursts. They’d begun suspecting they’d been swindled into buying a dull-witted child.

Little Qiao Jia shut the door, listening carefully to his sister’s messages. His soft, round face scrunched into a frown.

That awful aunt would never do these things. There has to be a reason. But the couple hadn’t grown tired of him yet—he couldn’t return just yet.

Worried, he instructed, "Don’t let her trick you. Wait for me."

"Brother, when are you coming back?" Little Qiao'an’s voice came through. "I heard Auntie’s thoughts—she wants to bring you back."

Little Qiao Jia grew even more skeptical. How could that be? That horrible aunt would sooner sell my sister too!

Yes!

His sister was too naive to understand their aunt’s schemes. She was probably being nice now just to lower Little Qiao'an’s guard before selling her off!

Panic set in. He couldn’t let that happen.

If that’s the case... I’ll have to act worse to get sent back.

He looked down at his freshly changed pants, his small face solemn with resolve.

The dining table was silent, a quietness Qiao Lan was accustomed to as someone used to solitude. Yet today felt slightly different.

The child beside her ate without a sound, yet their presence was palpable, frequently diverting Qiao Lan attention. Naturally, there were no child-sized utensils at home, and she hadn’t thought to buy any. Now, the little one clumsily fumbled between a spoon and chopsticks, struggling to decide which to use. After much effort, only a few bites made it into their mouth, beads of sweat forming on their forehead from the effort.

These children had grown up under the care of her previous self, learning very little. If this continued, the food would go cold.

Qiao Lan slowed her own eating, inexplicably recalling her own childhood living with her sister who taught her, love and care for her. she could not understand why her previous self had treats them bad and abused the children.

But now she promised to love,care and teach the twins well.

Watching the child fail yet again to pick up food and resort to eating plain rice with a spoon, Qiao Lan grabbed a clean pair of chopsticks. "Watch me," she said, placing food into the child’s bowl. "Use the spoon for now. Later, you can slowly learn how to use chopsticks by observing me."

Little Qiao'an clutched the spoon tightly and nodded cautiously. With the food now in the bowl, they could simply lean over and scoop it into their mouth while studying how their aunt ate.

But soon, their attention drifted.