【So, Host, what exactly are you planning to do for money?】
Xiao Jiji was still lost in daydreams—imagining Ye Qingju’s rise to stardom as a top-tier actress or some legendary metaphysics master taking the entertainment world by storm.
But Ye Qingju, one hand on the steering wheel, curved her lips into a sly, foxlike smile. Her eyes shimmered with mischief as she answered coolly:
“Pork Baron.”
【…Is that a new entertainment award I haven’t heard of?】 Xiao Jiji blinked.
Ye Qingju frowned slightly. “No, I mean it literally. As in, someone who sells pork. A lot of it.”
【…】
Someone please file for a system rebind. This host was clearly broken.
Ye Qingju shook her head, deciding to explain it properly:
In her original world, the outbreak of African swine fever once caused pork prices to skyrocket overnight. You’d think pig farmers would have made a fortune—but in reality, over half the farms went under. The costs outweighed the returns, and hardly anyone made a profit.
“But I’m different,” she said confidently. “I know how to prevent African swine fever.”
“Just imagine—while the market price for pork is surging, my pork remains at its original quality and pricing.”
【In that case, you’ll be raking in cash.】
Now Xiao Jiji finally understood why she had driven all the way out to the middle of nowhere.
【Are you scouting land for a pig farm, Host?】
Ye Qingju praised it for catching on so quickly, but then made a U-turn and started heading back.
【?】
She explained: “Starting a farm isn’t that easy. First, I’d need to check the land's classification, then apply for a livestock permit, and finally build out the facilities. I don’t have time for all that.”
【Wait—so you’re not doing it anymore?】 the system asked in surprise.
Ye Qingju shook her head.
She couldn’t build a farm herself… but she could buy an existing one.
As she thought about it, she felt a pang of regret for not getting that pig farmer’s contact information.
But one glance at the time reminded her that it was already too late to dwell on it. She might as well go pick up the kid from school.
Happy Days Kindergarten—
A rowdy crowd of children in matching uniforms and yellow hats clustered around their teacher, shrieking and playing like a bunch of monkeys.
The only one out of sync with the chaos was a small boy standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching everything with a frosty detachment.
His soft curls framed a pair of dark, grape-like eyes—so cute they made you want to smother him with kisses.
“Your backpack’s so cool—is that Ultraman Tiga?”
Just as he was plotting how to tattle on Ye Qingju to his little uncle, a small voice piped up beside him.
Young master Qi Xinian—future genius CEO in training—snapped his head around with executive-level authority, only to find a freckled little boy standing next to him. Compared to the other snot-nosed kids, this one was noticeably cleaner, with clear, honest eyes.
“Not bad,” Qi Xinian said, lifting his chin. “Good taste. I’ll allow you to be my little sidekick.”
The kid paused, then broke into a delighted grin. “You wanna be my friend? Awesome!”
Qi Xinian: Selective hearing?
When Ye Qingju arrived, she was greeted by the sight of a random child beaming up at her son.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “A miracle! Did Qi Xinian actually make a friend?”
“He’s my little sidekick!” Qi Xinian snapped.
The freckled boy turned to Ye Qingju and smiled sweetly. “Are you Qi Xinian’s sister? You’re so pretty! My name’s An Zuoran.”
Ye Qingju practically melted on the spot.
“Xiao Ran!”
A woman came hobbling over and scooped the boy into her arms.
Qi Xinian instinctively wandered over to Ye Qingju’s side.
The woman looked flustered, her coat wrinkled and her coarse hair peppered with silver strands. But An Zuoran was spotless, his face scrubbed clean and uniform neatly pressed—it was clear she loved her child deeply.
The woman gave Ye Qingju a shy, apologetic smile before hurrying off with her son.
The boy looked back several times as he was strapped into the back seat of a bicycle, waving at Qi Xinian the entire time.
Once they were gone, Qi Xinian slung his backpack at Ye Qingju like a young lord tossing his coat at a servant, then strutted forward.
“Where’s the car?” he asked, glancing around.
Ye Qingju made a mental note: This kid clearly needs his eyes checked.
“Right in front of you.”
She pointed at the gleaming Wuling Hongguang Mini EV, glowing with the brilliance of a noble steed.
Qi Xinian's eyes widened. “Rolls-Royce has a new model?”
“Is that the only brand you recognize?”
“There’s also Lamborghini.” He pouted.
Ye Qingju swung his backpack like a threat, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You getting in or not?”
Faced with her oppressive aura, the little dumpling caved. “Will riding this affect my chances of driving a Maserati in the future?”
Ye Qingju opened the door, grabbed him by the back of the collar, and stuffed him in. “Relax, young master. Even if you want to fly a rocket someday, this won’t get in your way.”
Halfway through the ride, Qi Xinian asked to play with her phone, so she tossed it over.
A few moments later, a text notification chimed. The boy, lying on his stomach, waved the phone at her. “A monk’s looking for you.”
At a red light, Ye Qingju leaned over to glance.
It was from Yuantong.
“……”
After picking up a package from a delivery hub—a book titled A Parent’s Essential Guide to Raising Kids—Ye Qingju casually tossed it into the car.
Then, without hesitation, she opened her shopping app and ordered another book: “A 2022 Guide to Common Sense and Daily Life.”
That one would be for Qi Xinian’s bedtime reading.
She peppered him with questions about his day—what he learned, who he met—making sure no suspicious transmigrators had infiltrated his class.
Finally, they arrived at the Qi Estate.
As Ye Qingju pulled into the garage, something felt off.
Why is that Alphard van Qi Weiran always rides parked here?
Qi Xinian spotted it too, eyes lighting up. “Little Uncle’s back!”
He yanked his backpack from Ye Qingju’s grasp, threw it over his shoulder, and ran toward the house like a happy puppy.
Before Ye Qingju could even put on her “dutiful wife” act, a girl with a ponytail bolted toward her, hugged her tightly, and began to scold her in a tone half-worried, half-preachy:
“Jie, why are you home so late? You’re a girl—you’ve gotta learn some self-respect!”
Ye Qingju glanced out the window. It wasn’t even dark yet.
This was Yi Bingmei, her supposed little sister. Top student. Naturally clever. Once the golden child of the family.
“You didn’t go out spending Qi Xianren’s money again, did you? I’ve told you before—a girl has to be strong and independent. That money belongs to him, not you.”
She raised her voice deliberately, clearly trying to make sure the entire household heard.
Ye Qingju shoved her aside and kept walking.
【Says the girl with a loudspeaker for a mouth. Of course I know the money’s still his—for now. That’s why I’m waiting on a proper diagnosis.】
In the living room, Qi Weiran silently set down the milk tea Aunt Zhang had just made for him.
“Not to your liking, sir?” she asked nervously.
His voice was flat and emotionless. “It’s carcinogenic.”
Aunt Zhang: “?”
If he was just starting to take care of his health after a mild cold last month, this was one hell of a delayed reaction.
Qi Weiran glanced up just in time to see Ye Qingju heading his way. He waved at the little dumpling.
Qi Xinian ran straight over.
After asking about his first day at kindergarten, Qi Weiran frowned slightly and turned to Wan Sui. “Why aren’t they teaching calculus at that school?”
Ye Qingju froze mid-step. Before he could say “Xianren” again, she whipped out her phone and placed another order:
“How to Guide a Psychopath Toward Normal Human Behavior.”
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