Chapter 3

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Qin Meilan coaxed little Jie to sleep in her arms, while Zhuzhu was scolded from dawn till dusk, finally being sent behind the curtain to sleep.
Autumn had arrived, and the nights grew chilly. The little bundle’s quilt was still thin. As she crawled into bed, she shivered slightly, placing the doll pendant given by the staff beside her before gently pulling up the blanket.
The doll pendant, carried by the staff, had a dirty face and resembled a little tabby cat—much like Zhuzhu.
But this was Zhuzhu’s new friend, and the little one didn’t mind it at all, patting it softly.
“Time to sleep!”
From behind the curtain, Zhuzhu heard Zhao Wu’s rare phone call.
As soon as the call connected, Qin Meilan hurriedly had little Jie call out “Daddy.” Tomorrow was little Jie’s second birthday, and Zhao Wu had picked out a toy water gun for him, ordering it online with a promise it would arrive soon. Little Jie was ecstatic. The father and son were happily engrossed for a while, and Qin Meilan looked quite pleased, casting a subtle glance at the forgotten “wild child” behind the curtain.
“By the way, some TV crew is coming to film a program this afternoon.”
“I was thinking of having little Jie appear on the show—it’s called ‘Switching Lives.’ I heard they previously filmed in some village, following a little girl who was brought to live in the city. After filming, the program donated money and school supplies to her, saying that no matter how long she studies, city folks are willing to support her!”
“I was just thinking, what if little Jie gets noticed? Whether he goes to school or not, he could shoot some commercials—how cool would that be? Plus, he could even earn some money—”
“Qin Meilan!”
The little bundle flinched in fright.
Qin Meilan didn’t understand why her husband suddenly got so agitated but switched to phone mode to avoid scaring the child and held the receiver close to her ear.
On the other end, Zhao Wu was furious, warning her not to take advantage of any opportunities just because they seemed convenient. He told her that if the TV crew came again, she should keep the child away.
“Especially that girl,” Zhao Wu said sternly. “Don’t let her appear.”
“Hmph.” Qin Meilan rolled her eyes. “Like she’s some secret to hide.”
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes, yes, I heard.”
After hanging up, Qin Meilan comforted her son in her arms.
Thinking about how she had been scolded without reason, she muttered sarcastically in a hoarse voice,
“So she really is someone to hide.”
“Pfft.”
That wild child, who did she think she was?
Every time Qin Meilan asked Zhao Wu about her origins, he remained tight-lipped.
She was out doing shameful things and still acting righteous!
...
Zhuzhu was no longer a toddler unaware of the world; at three and a half, she was a big kid.
When the adults at home argued and her little brother cried in fear, someone would always comfort him, but she was different.
The little bundle knew she had to stay out of sight, not to bother anyone, quietly waiting for the storm to pass.
The window was half-open, and a cool breeze slipped in quietly.
Zhuzhu curled into a tiny ball as drowsiness overcame her, drifting unknowingly into sleep.
The voices swirling near her ears in the dream were like a long bedtime story.
It was the original plot of a cheesy old romance novel, “Running Away Pregnant, The Amnesiac CEO Falls in Love with Me.”
Zhuzhu was too young to understand fully; only now did she vaguely realize that the “ball” in “running away with the ball” referred to a child.
The original female lead had run away while pregnant and was overjoyed when her child was born. She picked a fine bottle of wine from the cabinet, intending to rest and then drink it. The original female lead had become a mother, but she still seemed like a little girl, wandering around the crib, occasionally poking the small hanging ornaments, finally realizing her “ball” was the most fun.

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In the dream, the original female lead’s face was veiled in a haze, too blurry to see clearly.
Zhuzhu heard the crisp “ding dong” sounds of baby toys.
The original female lead spoke many words to her “ball.”
“I actually became a mother.”
“It hurts a little, but you’re so adorable, it’s worth it.”
“Grow up quickly, so we can have afternoon tea together.”
“Can’t drink tea? I’ll get you a cup of milk.”
The little bundle was still in the dream.
Yet, she didn’t comprehend most of the original plot about the child playing the piano.
She only remembered this scene, presented from the baby’s perspective, surrounded by warm, dreamy bubbles, beautiful as an illusion.
So dreams could be sweet after all.
...
Steam filled the bathroom. Ji Ning wrapped herself in a bathrobe, wiping the fog from the mirror.
When she first regained consciousness, she had no time to think much. She heard people say it was a major car accident; her friends and the driver died on the spot, but she was luckier, having narrowly escaped with her life.
The recovery process was grueling. A professional therapist had designed a comprehensive rehabilitation plan for her. Ji Ning was naturally optimistic, and no matter how hard it was, she took it step by step.
From her family and outsiders, Ji Ning pieced together her former self.
At five, she was a child actress recognizable on the street. As she grew older, the only daughter of the Ji family was not the so-called cash cow the outside world imagined. Her mother severed all ties with the entertainment industry, and from then on, her life became simple and pure.
School and home, a straight line between two points, with a private tutor responsible for her artistic education—the growth of a wealthy heiress was rather unremarkable.
She was raised in a greenhouse; the only upheaval was that car accident.
Yet, for some reason, as time passed, Ji Ning felt she had lost something.
An invisible cage trapped her.
She didn’t know what she had lost, but it must have been precious.
“Knock, knock, knock—”
Ji Ning snapped back to reality. “Come in.”
The maid, Wu Ma, brought Ji Ning a freshly stewed bird’s nest soup, emphasizing it was the mistress’s instruction.
“The mistress is still in the study on a video conference.”
“By the way, the clothes near the outside of the wardrobe were just delivered this afternoon by the mistress. All are seasonal ready-to-wear. She said she was very happy you’re back.”
Wu Ma opened the wardrobe.
Rows upon rows of clothes, jewelry, and shoes were arranged with meticulous care, styled from head to toe as steady and precise as Fu Mingya, never prone to error.
Wu Ma held up a dress, gesturing toward Ji Ning. “So pretty.”
“Wu Ma,” Ji Ning suddenly asked, “when did you come to work here?”
“That’s been many years ago,” Wu Ma smiled. “You were just a little thing then. I even went with you to film on set.”
“Do you remember why my mother allowed me to act back then?” Ji Ning asked.
“That was over twenty years ago.” Wu Ma thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, it’s quite strange. I remember the mistress was very unhappy at first... maybe she only wanted you to try playing around, but later realized the schedule was unreasonable. Such a little kid couldn’t handle late-night shoots!”
She glanced at the dress again. “Ningning, you’ve lost weight again, haven’t you? This dress might not fit.”
“You have to eat more while you’re home.”
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Ji Ning nodded.
Wu Ma checked the time.
“Rest now. I’ll go out and come back to call you for dinner later.” As she turned to leave, Wu Ma gave Ji Ning a satisfied look. “See? This is much better!”
Wu Ma went downstairs, leaving the bird’s nest soup on a tray.
The lid had been opened early in the morning; a delicate spoon rested inside, steam slowly dissipating.
The wardrobe clothes were regularly arranged, each area matching the style of the newly delivered seasonal ready-to-wear.
“...” Ji Ning crossed her arms. “Did I really like this kind of style before?”
...
The second season of “Switching Lives” kicked off with a live casting call that stirred some online discussion.
However, not only was it a winter for film and TV, but also for variety shows. A small casting episode could hardly generate much buzz.
After discussion, the production team felt the first casting episode had many shortcomings and hadn’t found any standout candidates yet.
The only memorable presence was the little girl standing at the back of the children’s group, but choosing her as a guest was deemed inappropriate.
“That little girl is cute and lovable, but she’s too young, not meeting our requirements. Besides, her home situation doesn’t look good. Her mother is difficult to get along with. If we invite her to live with a city family, where would the city kids go?”
“Putting ‘son preference’ out in the open could spark public opinion, but it’s a sensitive topic. The child is still very young. If we blow up this issue, we might be accused of exploiting a child, and that stigma would be too heavy.”
After consideration, the team decided to shelve the plan for the time being.
The live casting wasn’t only held in Yongrui Village; there were several alternative locations with more preparation time.
Unlike official TV stations, self-media streamers who rely on traffic and heat had already sensed the wave of interest and naturally wanted to capitalize on it.
That evening, a public welfare streamer named “Sweet Donut” posted a preview, announcing she would go to Yongrui Village first thing the next morning to find the little girl named Zhuzhu, bringing her well-fitting clothes along with warmth and encouragement.
[Such strong initiative and sharp insight—this streamer really knows her business!]
[Isn’t it a bit intrusive to bother people like this?]
[Turning everything into entertainment—children are not tools for you self-media streamers to make money.]
[In the era of traffic is king, where there’s traffic there’s money. Support the streamer helping children improve their lives!]
[So shameless. Oppose the entertainment of suffering!]
Regardless of whether the online voices were well-meaning, Sweet Donut still rode the official satellite TV’s wave of attention.
The next morning, she and her studio team took the earliest flight to Nancheng, streaming live throughout.
The buzz wasn’t huge, but Zhuzhu had become the little star of the livestream, drawing widespread social goodwill.
In forums dedicated to internet celebrities, someone shared the livestream link, tagging it with #LittleJiNing# and #ChildStar#.
[Are unknown small streamers nowadays really this hardworking?]
[Those tags are weak; where’s the traffic? Might as well add #BitterMelonLiterature#]
After a bumpy journey, Sweet Donut and her team arrived at the entrance of Yongrui Village.
From afar, they finally spotted the day’s livestream protagonist.
Zhuzhu, innocent and bewildered, stood with short legs planted firmly, tilting her head.
Little Bitter Melon Baby is here.

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