Jieqiong has always been good with kids.

She could remember her five-year-old self often playing a mother to her dolls.

Then there was Jieqiong when she was twelve. It was when she first started working as a babysitter for the kids around the neighbourhood. Their parents were always busy and Jieqiong found herself liking it. There was something really nice in the way her arms ached after a few hours of holding the two-year-old boy that lived in the house opposite her own.

Her friends would always call her name, throw stones at her window. They sometimes came riding their bicycles. Jieqiong, running out of excuses, would tell them that she needed money. That she needed to work another night, when she actually didn't.

The girl's parents thought she was weird.

She didn't mind. She really, really liked kids.

Jieqiong knew what she wanted to do when she grew up.

She didn't expect to move to another country, but that didn't stop her from pursuing her dream. A simple dream, which now included learning a new language.

A few months later, she met a girl named Chungha.

The girl worked at a daycare center and was looking for someone to share the rent with. Jieqiong was more than happy to leave the place she was currently staying at for the not so big, but rather cozy apartment on the second floor. She also started working at the daycare center.

Her job didn't feel like a job. She loved it.

All the children liked her and she liked all the children.

That was until a new girl showed up. Jieqiong knew what it's like to be new and feel out of place, so she decided to take it upon herself to make the girl feel welcome.

The Chinese still shudders everytime she remembers how it went. She went home thinking that the trauma from that day will keep her awake for weeks. Still, Jieqiong was determined to make the girl like her, so she tried again. That day, she had to clean glue out of her hair. It gave her time to rethink her decision to make friends with the small one.

After one last try, she gave up.

However, her colleague didn't. Chungha all, but forced her into calling the girl's parents.

Let's say that the meeting was interesting.

Jiequing's rusty Korean and the fact that the little girl's mother was close to being a flawless being left the Chinese feeling overwhelmed.

"Sir," she repeated for the nth time, trying to remember what Chungha told her to say.

"Jieqiong," the goddess began in a calm voice. The former didn't bother to correct the pronunciation of her own name, "I'm not-"

"No Sir. No Sir. Mrs. Im? That good? Or M-"

"Just Ms."

All in all, Jieqiong was dragged to the other room by no one other than Chungha as the older girl clicked her tongue at the blabbering Chinese.

The second time the two met was just as awkward. For Jieqiong, at least.

Ms. Im had shown up after a jog, with a water bottle in hand and looking better than ever. She was glowing, the younger one was positive. And as Jieqiong followed the drop of sweat disappearing in the valley between the woman's