(01)
My character is the stereotypical vicious supporting female character in a novel.
Fair skin, a great figure (though I have no idea what I look like), a billion-dollar fortune (which I only recently found out about), and no interest in talking to people (because I can’t actually recognize anyone).
The truth is, my parents died young. There are three of us siblings, and each of us has our own issues.
My eldest brother was so kind it was almost excessive. He adopted five children, then died unexpectedly and left them all to me.
My second brother, meanwhile, was fed up with the secular world. On the day of the college entrance exams, he went off to join Shaolin Temple. Now he’s an abbot making over ten thousand a month.
As for me, I was born with face blindness. I’ve lived this long without being able to recognize either my eldest or second brother, so I can only tell people apart by their voices.
I moved into my eldest brother’s house to take care of the five children.
He hadn’t adopted them long before he died. All five children were very well-behaved, standing in front of me timidly without saying a word.
I’d heard them introduce themselves, then thought, “My name is Hạ Thanh Thu. You can call me…”
I’d meant to say “big sister,” since I’d only just turned eighteen.
But they called my eldest brother, who was nearly thirty, “Uncle.”
Me: “...You can call me Auntie, too.”
Actually, legally, I wasn’t allowed to adopt these children.
My unmarried eldest brother wasn’t allowed to, either.
But apparently the story’s miraculous power had changed all that, so I, a college student, was forced to start raising children.
The “Encyclopedia” kept nagging me at first, telling me I had to change the plot, but I pretended not to hear it.
I may not be a good person, but I really couldn’t bring myself to mistreat children. Besides, I had no idea who the male lead or female lead was.
I couldn’t be bothered to follow the plot, either. If it all fell apart, so be it.
Letting it fall apart wouldn’t cure my face blindness, so there was no point following the plot anyway.
There were three boys: Trang Du, Hà Diệc Dương, and Từ Như Đồ.
And two girls: Lâm Diệu Diệu and Tống Thước.
No matter how often I looked at them, I couldn’t see how these innocent children who called me Auntie every day could grow up to become a deranged villain or an arrogant supporting female character.
They were so well-behaved that even a grown-up like me, who was slow on the uptake and didn’t feel much, couldn’t help starting to like them and take my responsibility for them seriously.
The children had been going to school at an orphanage before. After adopting them, I enrolled them at an elementary school right across from our home. I even bought a van, like a daycare shuttle, to drive them to and from school every day.
Whenever something came up in class, the teaching assistant understood my situation and would pat my shoulder with a sigh. “It must be so hard, Hạ Thanh, taking care of five younger siblings all by yourself.”
Without batting an eye, I’d reply smoothly, “That’s right. One of the kids at home has a fever, so I have to take them to the hospital.”
That wasn’t true. The children were actually at home doing their homework.
But after I discovered how effective that excuse was for skipping class, the five children in my stories wound up in the hospital all the time.
Every now and then, I’d feel guilty for a few seconds. Adults really are shameless.
But the next time, I’d use that divine sick-leave trick again. Adults are shameless by nature, after all.
(02)
My eldest brother had everything in the house arranged quite well. I left his room untouched and turned the living room into my own bedroom. I hired a housekeeper to cook our three meals and take care of the cleaning.
Every day, the children sat at the table doing homework while I sat beside them playing games.
I was in the middle of a game when one of the boys came over. “Auntie, do you need any help?”
I blinked. “Tiểu Du, are you done with your homework?”
“Auntie, you mixed us up again!” The boy who was bent over his desk writing furiously looked up and protested. “I’m Trang Du. He’s Từ Như Đồ!”
“Oh,” I corrected myself right away. If you make a mistake, you should fix it. “Little Bunny, are you done with your homework?”
Từ Như Đồ murmured, “Yes,” and sat down beside me. “I’ve already finished studying for the test the day after tomorrow, too.”
Từ Như Đồ was the best student among the five children. He didn’t say much, but he was very well-behaved and obedient.
“Do you know how to play Honor of Kings?”
Từ Như Đồ nodded. “Yes.”
I eagerly handed him my phone. “Play a match. I want to watch you.”
“Okay.”
Từ Như Đồ said softly, then started jungling with Diaochan, whom I’d played into a 1–10 score. Now she was on a killing spree.
The longer I watched, the more stunned I was, my eyes widening.
Sure enough, elementary school kids were the best at Honor of Kings. They were terrifying!
As I watched intently, a little girl ran over, sat beside me, and clung tightly to my waist. “Auntie, you’re playing favorites! I finished my homework, too. Play with me!”
I ventured a guess. “Diệu Diệu?”
“That’s right!”
Delighted that I’d recognized her, Diệu Diệu lifted her face and smiled at me.
The other little girl was quieter. She handed me a peeled orange. “Have some.”
“Thanks, Tiểu Thước. You have some, too.” I happily accepted the little gift, then turned to remind the two boys at the table, “It’s almost nine. If you don’t finish your homework, you can’t watch the movie with us.”
“Aaaaa!” Trang Du wailed. “This problem is too hard!”
The other boy—Hà Diệc Dương—snorted, looking rather displeased. He picked up a sheet of paper and came over to me. “I’m done. This is a little test, and it needs a parent’s signature.”
I looked at the sheet, its bright red 100 points standing out. “A perfect 100? You did great, Tiểu Dương.”
Từ Như Đồ, who was playing beside me, paused for a moment.
The two girls beside me paused, too.
“A little test needs a signature?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“You got a perfect 100 just so Auntie would praise you, didn’t you, Hà Diệc Dương?”
Hà Diệc Dương immediately snatched back the crumpled paper. “I... I didn’t!”
“It’s okay. Tiểu Dương did great.” I patted his head, used to this by now. “Come watch the movie with us.”
Hà Diệc Dương said nothing more and obediently pulled up a chair beside me.
Từ Như Đồ had just finished another match. Looking at the incredible result, I said admiringly, “Đồ Đồ, help me climb to the King rank this summer. I’ll pay you by the star.”
“Sure, but I don’t need money,” Từ Như Đồ said. “I can play with you, too.”
“Tiểu Thước and I can play with you, too.” Lâm Diệu Diệu hugged my arm tightly. “Auntie, I got 100 points this time, too!”
“Everyone in this family is a little genius.” I was used to it by now, and patted each of their heads. “You’re all amazing.”
“I’m the only one who didn’t get 100 points.” Trang Du finally finished his homework and came over sadly, his voice full of hurt. “You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?”
“Of course not.” I reassured him. “At the last parent-teacher conference, your teacher even said you were smart. Grades aren’t that important.”
The children all fell silent for five seconds.
“Auntie, there’s a parent-teacher conference next week.” Thước Thước tugged at my sleeve. “Whose seat are you going to sit in?”
Five pairs of eyes immediately fixed on me.
I thought for a few seconds, then tossed the decision back to them. “You all decide.”
A lot of parents favor one child over the others, but I was different.
I treated them all equally—after all, I couldn’t even tell their faces apart. How could I possibly play favorites?
If there was something I couldn’t handle, I let the kids sort it out themselves.
—Adults really are lazy.
“In that case…” Trang Du said cautiously. “We’ll have to use that method after all.”
“I don’t agree.” Thước Thước, who was usually very quiet, reacted strongly. “No way.”
“I don’t agree either!” Hà Diệc Dương stood up angrily. “I don’t want to play rock-paper-scissors!”
“You two never win at rock-paper-scissors,” Lâm Diệu Diệu said, suddenly understanding. Then her tone changed. “So let’s do it this way!”
“That’s not fair!”
“Rock-paper-scissors is the fairest way there is. How is that not fair?”
Seeing the children about to start arguing, I hurried to calm them down. “How about this? We’ll draw lots.”
“If you say we should draw lots, then we’ll draw lots.” Từ Như Đồ, who had been quiet until then, spoke up. “I don’t mind.”
“I’ll go along with whatever you say, too.”
“Me too.”
All five children obediently stood in front of me again. Even though I couldn’t tell their faces apart, I couldn’t help thinking once more—how adorable they were.
I had no idea where my older brother had found such adorable children. I couldn’t even decide whose seat to sit in at the parent-teacher conference. Could any parent really bear to abandon them?
As I thought about it, I patted each child on the head, then finally called their homeroom teacher myself.
The one thing I’d never be short of in this life was “financial means.”
So, at that parent-teacher conference, I sat beside the large desk the teacher had specially prepared for me, with all five children sitting around me. The other parents gave me strange looks, but I didn’t care.
Elementary school parent-teacher conferences were pretty low-key. The teacher mainly emphasized discipline and study habits. I listened closely, taking notes and looking over the tests.
The five children had just finished their midterms, and they’d all done very well. They really were little geniuses. There were eight or nine perfect 100s among the tests in front of me, and the others were all 99s or 98s.
What’s more, whenever the teacher called out a name to praise someone, I heard one of my kids’ names.
They had good discipline and study habits, were polite and well-behaved, did their work accurately, and were well-rounded in every way—morally, intellectually, physically, artistically, and practically…
The teacher praised them nonstop, and it made me feel great.
Feeling the other parents’ gazes shift from bewilderment to envy, I straightened my back. Though I’d only just reached adulthood, I’d already come to understand the joy of raising children.
“You all did great.” As the teacher handed out the health insurance forms, I whispered to the five children, “How about a big feast tonight? Want to go to the park this weekend?”
All five children quietly asked me, “Can we have KFC?”
I made an OK sign with my hand. “We’ll get the big family meal.”