After Transmigrating As The Mother Of The Pitiful Female Supporting Character in a Campus Novel - Chapter 52

After dinner and a shower, the production crew informed them that they could use their phones for one hour to call their families.

The four women fell into silence for a moment before Qin Zhijin spoke up, “In that case, let’s let Xiaoyi call home first to tell them she’s safe.”

“Sure.” Xia Shibai nodded, spinning her phone around her fingertips before letting it drop onto the mat with a dull thud.

She didn’t really have anyone to call. Even if she did, the old couple wouldn’t pick up at this hour…

Thinking of something, Xia Shibai began sending a message to the other end.

The crew didn’t pay much attention; this segment was free phone time, and they wouldn’t interfere with whatever the guests chose to do.

Following her usual habit, Gu Mingyi first called Song Ling.

Song Ling was in her rented apartment watching the livestream on a projector. She had spent a good deal of effort trying to stop the platform from lagging. She stared intently at her daughter on the screen, a sight both strange and familiar. Song Ling knew that the lens could distort a face, making Gu Mingyi look slightly different from her memory.

Yet, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from wondering if her daughter across the ocean was thinner or taller, whether she was crying or laughing.

Then, the transoceanic call shattered the silence.

The voice from the phone overlapped with the audio in the living room: “Hello, Mama.”

Song Ling burst into tears for some reason, gripping the phone and letting out a soft “Mhm. Xiaoyi, what’s wrong?”

Gu Mingyi was a sensitive child. Even though the signal in this small village wasn’t great, she heard the heaviness in her mother’s voice and sensed something was wrong with Song Ling’s emotions.

Gu Mingyi didn’t know how to hide her feelings, but she knew how to change the subject. She kept talking about happy things, hoping her mother on the other side of the planet could feel a bit of joy, even just a little.

When the call ended and only a bit of the hour remained, Gu Mingyi clambered down from the bed holding the phone.

Qin Zhijin asked, “What are you doing? Getting water?”

“No, I’m going to call Papa.” Gu Mingyi put on her small shoes, stomped her heels in, and headed outside. “But this is a little secret between me and Papa. I don’t want anyone to hear.”

Qin Zhijin, who originally intended to follow, stopped. She also motioned for the cameraman who wanted to follow to turn back. “Then stay safe. Be very careful and don’t hurt yourself.”

As for what the child wanted to say to Gu Chen, that was between father and daughter; no one else had the right to intervene.

Once Gu Mingyi left, the room fell silent.

Xia Yaozhou looked up at her mother, who was sitting to the side sending texts. Pursing her lips, she propped herself up on the bed and asked, “Mama, do we not have anyone we can call?”

Xia Shibai nodded in admission. “That’s right.”

“Then… but we’re working right now. Shouldn’t we find someone to talk to no matter what?” Xia Yaozhou looked at her mother in confusion.

“Do you want to make a call, Zhouzhou?”

“I… I think I do.”

Although she didn’t know who to talk to or what to say, everyone else had someone. If she didn’t, would that count as being unprofessional? If she wasn’t professional, would she still get paid?

The fair-skinned little girl couldn’t come up with a definite answer, so she simply let herself fall back onto the bed, landing right in Qin Zhijin’s arms, her soft hair fanning out across the bedding.

Qin Zhijin gently stroked her hair, not bothering the child while she grappled with a question that had no right answer.

“If you really want to call, it’s not like there isn’t someone you can call.” Xia Shibai glanced at Xia Yaozhou, who was shifting positions while lying down. With a slight frown, she set her phone down and pulled her daughter’s hands, trying to haul the “boneless” little girl up from the bed.

After much fussing, Xia Yaozhou moved from Qin Zhijin’s arms to Xia Shibai’s front. She sat encircled by her mother, looking down at the phone. The contact aliases in the WeChat list were so neat they looked like the product of OCD.

Unfortunately, besides the simple Arabic numerals at the beginning, Xia Yaozhou didn’t really understand those literary names.

Far away at Lan Sui, Yao Yao received another plea for help from her boss following the earlier text: Call Xia Yaozhou.

The condition for getting the bonus was simple: just manage to trick Xia Yaozhou.

When it came to the “literature” of fooling children, Yao Yao claimed second place; first place undoubtedly belonged to Shao Qing. Unfortunately, Shao Qing had been so annoyed by the “kid-show fanatic” spam from their group recently that she had quit the group long ago.

But that didn’t matter.

Money talks. Yao Yao sent a 500-yuan red envelope directly to Shao Qing: “Come quick.”

Within a minute, while Yao Yao watched the livestream on her work computer, Xia Yaozhou’s sweet, high-pitched voice echoed through the spacious, brightly lit secretary’s office.

“Hello? Auntie Yao Yao? Why aren’t you talking?”

“Why isn’t Auntie Yao Yao talking after the call connected? Does she not like me?”

Yao Yao sighed. Just as she was about to speak, Shao Qing, having claimed the red envelope, rushed in from outside in her high heels, clutching a freshly toasted sandwich.

Shao Qing took the phone from Yao Yao, gave a light “Hello,” and began chatting with Xia Yaozhou without any communication barriers. Their friendship was primarily forged on the day Qin Zhijin brought Gu Mingyi over to knock on their door for afternoon tea.

Shao Qing didn’t like kids, and her impression of Xia Yaozhou was merely “the boss’s daughter” and the “lucky star” who had once brought her a free paid vacation. But none of that mattered now; when the child’s voice came through the phone, Shao Qing naturally relaxed and chatted enthusiastically.

Several times during the call, Yao Yao—wearing her headset—tried to reach for the phone, but Shao Qing deliberately dodged her.

Yao Yao: “…” Huh?

Yao Yao remembered quite clearly that the reason a certain someone had indignantly quit the group a few days ago was: “Kids are really annoying. I’m bored, I’m out.”

And now this?

So, what exactly was it that you hated, Shao Qing?

By the end, Shao Qing and Xia Yaozhou were reminding each other to eat and sleep well, and the phone was never handed over to anyone else. Once the call ended, the smile on Shao Qing’s face vanished. She picked up the sandwich she had set on Yao Yao’s desk and took a light bite.

“You really are… saying one thing and doing another?” Yao Yao gritted her teeth. After thinking for a long time, that was the only description she could come up with.

Shao Qing looked confused. “What did I do?”

“Is ‘kid-hater’ some new persona? You used up the whole hour yourself… I didn’t get to say a single word. Don’t you think that’s ridiculous?” Yao Yao couldn’t understand; this person was being so absurd.

Shao Qing defended herself, “I’m not doing a persona, I really hate kids. But didn’t I take your 500 yuan? Could I not do the job properly for you? Just tell me, was the job thorough or not?”

“…” Yao Yao bared her teeth.

Get lost.

But Yao Yao couldn’t scold her directly. After all, she was the one who called her over and gave the money; she was just a big sucker. However, as the “sucker” looked at Shao Qing focusing on her sandwich, she pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Remembering the task Little President Xia had just privately messaged her, she clicked her tongue, plotting to drag Shao Qing into it too.

Gu Mingyi returned from her call with Gu Chen, handed the phone back to Qin Zhijin, and scrambled onto the bed.

“Finished?” Qin Zhijin habitually stroked Gu Mingyi’s hair.

“Mhm.” Gu Mingyi nodded. She had no intention of sharing the contents of her call with Qin Zhijin. She simply followed the cool breeze from the fan and shrunk into the blanket, lying down next to Qin Zhijin.

Meanwhile, Xia Yaozhou, having finished her nonsensical phone call, was drowsy. Her head nodded rhythmically. Toward the end of the call with Shao Qing, she hadn’t been fully conscious, saying things like “birds are running underground” with her eyes closed. It was clear she was truly exhausted.

Once her task was done, Xia Yaozhou fell asleep in the middle just seconds after handing over the phone.

Gu Mingyi followed soon after.

Even though it wasn’t officially time for lights out, Xia Shibai “politely” asked the camera crew to leave. The automatic cameras were covered with opaque jackets, and the microphones were unclipped and turned off. No voices could be heard, and soon the room was silent.

The two children sleeping in the middle became a natural barrier.

Xia Shibai was exhausted; her back and waist ached. Her brain, in a muddled state, began weaving a play of its own. In the chaotic scenes, she heard Qin Zhijin say to her aggrievedly: “When can we sleep together again?”

The dazed Xia Shibai was confused. She thought: Aren’t we sleeping together right now?

Her body paused for a moment. she reached out her hand, wanting to touch Qin Zhijin to tell her she was right here.

To her surprise, as soon as her hand went out, it touched a warm, round little hand. The shock woke Xia Shibai instantly. The chaotic dreams shattered as she propped herself up on the bed, pulling the blanket up with her.

The one sleeping next to Xia Shibai wasn’t her annoying little daughter.

Xia Yaozhou slept with rosy cheeks and steady breathing, looking as cute as a meat bun. Compared to when they first met, she looked like a completely different person.

Xia Shibai was exasperated. She lightly parted her teeth and nipped the “tender white bun” to vent her inner frustration.

The eyesore bun and the eyesore bun’s friend bun—two buns.

Compared to the warmth on Xia Shibai’s side, Sheng Liu and Jin Minxi’s side was inexplicably colder and more silent.

Sheng Liu wanted to call her wife, but after several unanswered calls followed by two rings and a hang-up, even the best temper couldn’t withstand such treatment.

Sheng Huaixing sat obediently at the head of the bed, her reddish-brown hair draped over her back. She could make a game out of just a blanket; she seemed used to Mommy not answering Mama’s calls. Her little mouth pouted and pursed as she muttered something to herself.

But she looked well-behaved enough.

Sheng Liu tried a few more times, and when she couldn’t get through, she gave up. She turned off the phone, stuffed it under her pillow, ignored the look the segment director gave her, and patted the pillow to let Sheng Huaixing sleep next to her, whispering stories to coax the child to sleep.

Sheng Liu wasn’t practiced at this. Her stories were old-fashioned, mostly familiar Andersen’s fairy tales from her childhood. When she couldn’t remember specific details, she started making things up, but her “stitching” ability wasn’t as strong as Xia Shibai’s.

Or perhaps, Sheng Huaixing had read more books than Xia Yaozhou and wasn’t as easily fooled.

Sheng Liu’s riddled story stumbled to a finish under the corrections of a three-year-old, barely qualifying as a complete tale. At least the princess stayed alive and wasn’t killed off halfway by Sheng Liu—her wife was ignoring her, so why should the two protagonists in a fairy tale be together? Wouldn’t a tragic separation be better?

In the same room, Jin Minxi had lied down early. Jin Minna sat on the bed playing by herself. The one-hour call time provided by the crew was entirely used by Jin Minxi to handle work.

It wasn’t that no one called her, but whenever she saw a family short-code, she rejected them all. If she had a needle in her hand, the crew suspected she would have directly popped the SIM card out and thrown it away.

Since joining this show, Jin Minxi—who usually presented a gentle face to the public—had been very irritable. All of that irritability stemmed from her shattered family.

When the room lights went out, Jin Minna, who had been playing happily by herself, silently crawled into the blanket, searching for a place that made her feel safe like a small animal. Finally, she rolled into Jin Minxi’s arms.

Jin Minna was somewhat afraid of this sister. Besides the lingering fear from being thrown into the pond, it was more due to Jin Minxi’s sense of detachment.

The sister before her seemed to still dote on her; they were, as their mother said, two sisters bound by blood. But the way Jin Minxi looked at her was different from other families. The young Jin Minna couldn’t articulate the difference; she was just terrified. Terrified that her sister would do what Gu Mingyi and Sheng Huaixing said—ignore her, stop supporting her, throw her out, and ignore their parents.

Then what should they do?

The three-year-old Jin Minna certainly couldn’t think of a solution. After all, if there were a good way to solve it, Jin Minxi wouldn’t have adopted this “broken pot” attitude, using this opportunity to make her family’s true situation public.

First, Jin Minxi had truly considered quitting the industry. With her family like this, regardless of the root cause, she reflected on whether earning too much was the problem. If she earned less, perhaps her family wouldn’t have become this way.

Second, if she wanted to continue in the industry—whether in front of or behind the scenes—the concept of “filial piety” was a crushing weight. No one ever truly empathizes with you. In this society, you can only disguise yourself as a victim; only then can you win others’ sympathy.

By showing her original family completely to the audience, if anything happened to her family later, this variety show would become Jin Minxi’s best arsenal for a counter-attack.

She was never a “good daughter.” Before, she was the only one in the house. Her parents didn’t display their greed and bias openly. Later, when there were two, they couldn’t keep the water level even and wanted to flip the table. In that case, Jin Minxi would simply move faster—she would rip off the ceiling.

Only then would she have the right to speak.

Jin Minna rolled and rolled until she was in the arms of her sister, who carried a faint, fresh scent. Her small brain couldn’t understand the true meaning of family, but she could vaguely sense that, among the four children, she was the only outlier after what was said today.

It didn’t feel good.

Jin Minna blinked hard to keep tears of longing from flowing. She buried her head in Jin Minxi’s arms, rubbing against her sister’s pajamas, and sobbed quietly until she fell asleep.

The next time she woke up, it was dawn.

Because it was a competition, the two large groups didn’t actually act together. After paying for their respective breakfasts, they went to find villagers to help with the field work. They couldn’t hire from the same household, because the order in which the harvests were completed determined the ranking of the two groups.

Thus, Xia Shibai got up very early to find a farmer who had time to help harvest the field. In this day and age, finding a willing local was hard enough.

Fortunately, her memory was good. The old lady had only mentioned it in passing yesterday, but she accurately found that house at the village entrance. Just as the sky was turning light, there were already sounds from that house, indicating they were hardworking.

Xia Shibai thought for a moment then tapped lightly on the door. After being welcomed in, she explained her intent.

“Since we’re responsible for our own lunch, we can’t provide a free meal for you. However, we can add 15 yuan on top as a meal subsidy included in the wage. What do you think?”

A middle-aged man was smoking a homemade water pipe. Smoke swirled, and the smell of local tobacco mixed with water made a gurgling sound. It didn’t smell very good. He looked Xia Shibai up and down before nodding slightly and agreeing.

Xia Shibai urged him to be as quick as possible, as it was a race.

The man wasn’t in a hurry. “Don’t worry. Few people in the village do such dirty and tiring work. If the others want to find someone in the village to help harvest like you did, it’ll be very difficult.”

Xia Shibai nodded and smiled, indicating she knew. She was simply impatient and wanted to finish the task quickly. Who would have thought that by the third day, Little President Xia would already be unable to stand this impoverished and difficult life?

Poverty was one thing, but she was on a long vacation—why was she being forced to wake up early? Who could stand that?

The middle-aged man’s family was also hospitable. Knowing Xia Shibai was there for filming, and guessing they had no food at home, they hurried to give her some steamed bread and boiled soy milk. “These are our own things, they don’t cost much. Take them to eat.”

For now, Xia Shibai would scrounge whatever meal she could. If she really couldn’t get by, she planned to blackmail the production crew.

“Thank you, I’ve troubled you. If there’s anything else later, feel free to call me. I’ll leave the field to you; please hurry.”

Gurgle, gurgle—another sound from the water pipe. The man didn’t speak this time, but Xia Shibai knew he was confident he would win.

Winning or losing didn’t really matter; the main thing was that she’d spent the money.

After Xia Shibai brought breakfast back and they finished eating, the director’s group slowly announced the plan for the day.

“Because the children did an excellent job finishing their tasks yesterday, there are no specific hurdles today. There is only one learning task: parents need to source materials from nature to teach the children a few simple facts about light. There are no limits on subjects like biology, chemistry, or physics.”

The director said cheekily, “By tonight, each child needs to explain a knowledge point to the livestream audience. They will be scored by professional preschool teachers. The one with the highest weighted score will be today’s winner. The group score will consider both children’s scores and rankings.”

Xia Shibai sneered and looked up at the sky. “Director, it’s not dark yet, is it?”

“Mhm.”

“Then why are you dreaming in broad daylight? If I still remembered those knowledge points, why would I be a CEO? I’d just pack up and go be an enlightenment teacher at a kindergarten.” Xia Shibai clicked her tongue, looking coldly at the director.

But the director was unafraid of “authority” and didn’t care.

Their show prided itself on dedication; everyone from the crew to the guests had to be “crazy.” If they weren’t crazy, it wouldn’t live up to the “devilish” reputation of the first season. The more a variety show tormented its guests, the more popular it was with viewers, because brilliant effects easily emerged under difficult conditions. A bland variety show’s ratings were like a flatline on an EKG.

Xia Shibai truly couldn’t think of something that both a child and an adult could think of that a child could also understand. After thinking for a while and coming up empty, she simply gave up. They had the whole day anyway; no rush.

After breakfast, the four women took a rare moment to stop their bustling. They sat in the yard on chairs, sunbathing. Like four sea otters lying on the ground, exposing their bellies and soaking up the sun’s residual heat.

Xia Shibai closed her eyes and dozed for a bit. Thinking of something, she stood up from her chair, went into the house, searched around the bed, and found a water gun under it.

Yesterday, the task the crew gave Xia Yaozhou was to “create the sun,” so there must have been tools suitable for children. The water gun was one of them.

Xia Shibai filled the water gun, walked over to Qin Zhijin, and rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. When the person resting on the chair opened her eyes, her bright, clear gaze reflected Xia Shibai’s backlit silhouette.

After the excessive labor yesterday, her uncomfortable back felt much better thanks to the chair’s support.

Qin Zhijin opened her eyes to see Xia Shibai waving a water gun in front of her.

Qin Zhijin: “?!”

What is she doing? She wouldn’t spray me, would she?

Qin Zhijin sat up abruptly and turned to look at her. “What are you doing?”

“Do you want to see a rainbow?”

“See what?” Qin Zhijin doubted her ears. On such a sunny day, what rainbow? Had the countryside driven her crazy?

Hearing “rainbow,” Xia Yaozhou immediately clapped her hands. “Yes, yes! See a rainbow! Zhouzhou succeeded in this experiment yesterday! I’m so great!”

Hearing this, Qin Zhijin knew where the water gun in Xia Shibai’s hand came from. She reached out and lightly pinched Xia Yaozhou’s cheek, pulling it gently to both sides. “You secretly smuggled the prop back last night and hid it in the room so we wouldn’t find it?”

“I did not! I brought it into the room in broad daylight yesterday and hid it under the bed!”

Xia Yaozhou wouldn’t admit it. After all, the two adults weren’t home when she hid the stuff. She just happened to do it when they weren’t there; how could that be “stealing and hiding”? She definitely didn’t.

Xia Shibai didn’t care how the water gun got there. The sun was strong today, the best time for the rainbow effect. She pressed the water gun lightly, and a small stream of water sprayed from the front.

Pffft, pffft—she sprayed Xia Yaozhou’s chubby face twice, making the little girl cover her face. She practically gave her a face wash.

Then, the water gun was aimed at Qin Zhijin.

Qin Zhijin didn’t dodge. A slight smile was on her face, but the emotion in her eyes was clear: You dare?

Of course Xia Shibai didn’t dare. She turned the water gun away.

Water curtain, Xia Shibai, and the sun formed a triangle, with her in the middle. With the gun full and her movements swift, the rainbow created in the air by the water curtain was much larger than the one Xia Yaozhou had made.

“Beautiful, right?” Xia Shibai stood still and winked at the seated Qin Zhijin.

It was obvious who the rainbow was for.

Author’s Note:

Xia Yaozhou: Mom, you’re really childish.

Xia Shibai (squirt, squirt): I think it’s fine.

Xia Yaozhou (wiping water off her face): …