After Being Deceived, I Married Someone Else and Had Children Chapter 33

There was now a grown man in the room— standing by the door beneath a poster of a mecha. His dark eyes were deep and cold, fixed on the child.

The toys and comics scattered everywhere were still the same, but the familiar room suddenly felt strange and dangerous to Xia Canming.

Maybe he was still half-asleep— otherwise, how could a stranger have appeared here?

“Who are you?”

Xia Canming jumped up from bed, clutching his flashlight. His pajama top was rumpled, his light-brown hair sticking up like a bird’s nest, his brown eyes wide with fear— as if that small beam of light could protect him.

Gu Heng released the doorknob, his calm black eyes resting on Xia Canming for a long time—long enough that the boy’s hair almost seemed to bristle like a startled squirrel—before he finally sighed with faint exasperation.

“Why is it that kids never go to sleep when they’re supposed to at night?”

Xia Canming blinked, then gathered his courage and said, “But big brother, you’re not sleeping either.”

Gu Heng replied evenly, “That’s right. But I’m a grown-up. You, little brat—if you don’t sleep, you’ll never grow taller.”

Xia Canming made a miserable face, glancing down at his own short legs wrapped in childish cartoon pajamas. He was standing on the bed, and even so, he still had to tilt his head up to look at the tall, handsome stranger before him.

Not only was he tall—he was the best-looking person Xia Canming had ever seen.

Even his mother, whom all the neighbors praised as a great beauty, couldn’t compare. Even standing in the dim corner by the door, this big brother was impossible to ignore; it felt as though the floor beneath his feet shimmered with light.

Xia Canming instinctively felt that this handsome big brother couldn’t be a bad person. After all, their family was quite ordinary, not wealthy at all. And if a thief did break in…

There was no way a thief could be this good-looking!

He snuck a few more glances at Gu Heng and nodded inwardly with conviction.

If this big brother did want to steal something, he probably wouldn’t need to. The neighborhood aunties and big sisters would line up to give him money voluntarily—and Xia Canming himself would happily hand over all the coins in his little piggy bank. He was even better-looking than the “little tyrant” in his class.

That little tyrant was a boy in his elementary class—handsome but fierce, from a single-parent family, always with messy, dirty clothes.

At first, no one dared approach him, since word was that he was the meanest kid in the area. But Xia Canming had seen how lonely he looked standing there by himself, so he had gone up to talk to him—and somehow ended up as the little tyrant’s “follower.”

Being his follower wasn’t so bad. Sometimes Xia Canming offered him new comic books, but unlike other classmates who borrowed and damaged or lost them, the little tyrant always returned them in perfect condition. He even tore pages from an old calendar to make book covers for him.

He looked fierce, but he was actually kind.

Once, when some bad kids were poking at a fallen baby bird with sticks, the little tyrant had driven them away angrily and carefully put the bird back into its nest.

He always did good things with a scowl, which frightened the other children, but behind that tough look there was still a trace of loneliness.

At those times, Xia Canming couldn’t help pinching his cheek—then hurriedly claiming there was a mosquito and apologizing.

The chivalrous “little tyrant” never really got mad, just glared at him with a flushed face.

But after that excuse was used one too many times, the little tyrant began avoiding him—spraying mosquito repellent every day and even refusing his comic books.

That left Xia Canming with no excuse to get close again. What a pity…

Beneath his shy and gentle exterior, a slightly mischievous Xia Canming thought so to himself.

“Well, I guess I should sleep,” he said with a bashful smile. “But big brother, what are you doing in my house?”

His soft, mixed-race features, tousled flaxen hair, and lightly freckled face gave him a sweet, curious look. Those brown eyes gazed up at Gu Heng without much fear—only interest.

As he studied the man, Xia Canming suddenly thought he looked familiar.

He glanced down at the comic book spread open on his bed—it featured his favorite hero.

The hero had the same black hair and eyes: a bright, sunny young police officer who, after a major turning point, became a cool, shadowy protector of the Federation.

When he looked back at Gu Heng—with that same black hair, striking features, and even colder, more mysterious air—it was like the comic’s protagonist had stepped right out of the page!

Meanwhile, Gu Heng frowned slightly.

Explaining anything to a six-year-old would be troublesome—and knocking him out, like he might with an enemy, was clearly not an option.

On covert missions, being discovered was nothing new; he would simply eliminate anyone who’d seen his face, ensuring a perfect cleanup.

If this kid were a bit older—or not Zuo Shihuan’s half-brother—he wouldn’t be so conflicted right now.

Gu Heng felt an uncharacteristic headache coming on. He almost wished he could just force this brat back to bed.

Then Xia Canming perked up, holding up his comic book, his brown eyes bright. “Big brother, are you like Mecha Superman?”

“What’s Mecha Superman?”

“It’s the hero in my favorite comic!” Xia Canming said excitedly, holding the book over his head. “By day he’s a police officer, and by night he becomes a protector of justice! To keep the Federation safe, he transforms into a half-mechanical, half-human lifeform!”

Gu Heng smoothly took the comic from his hands and flipped through it. After a few pages, he understood.

Just a children’s hero story—some cop who gains powers and turns into a “mecha superman” to save the Federation.

Except, Gu Heng thought dryly, if he stood on Federation soil, he’d be considered a threat to its safety, not its protector.

“You can say I’m whatever you want,” he said flatly, tossing the comic back. His tone was perfunctory, indifferent. He reached for a cigarette out of habit, then remembered there was a child present, clicked his tongue, and shoved the pack away.

Xia Canming hurriedly caught his comic, relieved it wasn’t damaged—but frowned at Gu Heng’s casualness. “It’s Mecha Superman! Mecha Superman’s an awesome hero! He can transform into an unbeatable mecha lifeform and protect the Federation from all the evil forces!”

“Mhm, mhm—what mecha, what monster or whatever.”

Gu Heng continued to respond lazily, half-listening as his eyes flicked toward the bright moonlight spilling through the window. It was about time to retreat—he’d have to come back another day when this troublesome little brat wasn’t home.

“It’s Mecha Superman!“ Xia Canming insisted again.

Outside the door, a pair of footsteps suddenly stopped short.

The next instant, a sharp, urgent knocking resounded. Before Xia Canming could even react, his mother Yu Cha’s sharp, severe voice rang out from the hallway.

“Xia Xia, why aren’t you asleep at this hour? Why do I hear another voice in your room? Who are you talking to?”

“And why is the door locked? What are you hiding from me? Open the door—right now!”

Xia Canming’s pupils trembled; his heart jolted in fear at the tone of his mother’s voice. But the worst part was—he couldn’t open the door. There was someone else in the room.

If Mom found out, that would be disastrous. Just remembering how overreactive she could get made cold sweat run down his back.

“Mom, wait a second, I’ll—I’ll open it soon!”

Panic flooded his face. He wanted the handsome big brother to hide somewhere first, but his room was so small—where could a grown man even fit?

In the closet? Under the bed?

He shot a desperate look toward the other man, signaling him to hide—but when he turned his head, the room was empty.

Except for the curtain swaying slightly in the night breeze, there was no trace of anyone else. It was as though the handsome big brother had been an illusion.

What—what was going on?!

Where had he gone?

Had he imagined it all while half-asleep? No, that couldn’t be right. There had been a handsome big brother standing there!

“Xia Xia, why haven’t you opened the door yet?!”

The knocking grew even fiercer, as though the door might be battered down.

Xia Canming called back nervously, “Mom, I’m opening it right now!” while glancing wide-eyed around the room—under the bed, no one; inside the closet, no one.

Then he saw the open window.

That was the only possible way out. Unless—no, there was no other exit.

But this was the tenth floor!

What if—what if the big brother fell?!

Xia Canming moved toward the window, anxious to check if the man might be outside—but behind him came the sound of metal turning in the lock.

The door opened.

A beautiful black-haired woman stepped in, slender fingers clutching a brand-new key. Her light brown eyes were tinged with melancholy; she wore a pale lavender nightgown. The faint lines at the corners of her eyes hinted that she was no longer young, yet time had only added to her grace. Anyone who saw her would agree she was a rare beauty.

Among the neighbors, she had an excellent reputation—a caring, devoted mother, admired by everyone.

Only Xia Canming, under the gaze of those sensitive, melancholy eyes, turned pale. His fists clenched, and a surge of suffocated anger and frustration rose in his chest.

“Mom! You promised Dad you wouldn’t come into my room whenever you wanted! Why did you make another key?!”

In that moment, Xia Canming’s chest ached—not only because she had barged into his private space again, but because she had once more broken a promise.

She always did this—entering his room without permission, reading his diary, interfering in his friendships. Once, when he got hurt during harmless roughhousing at preschool, his overprotective mother had scolded the teacher instead. No matter how he insisted it was his own fault, she had blamed the teacher for being careless and transferred him again and again.

Even though he always tried to adapt to each new environment and seemed to get along with everyone, in truth, he didn’t have a single real friend.

He never dared invite classmates home; after school, he only had comics and toys for company. His room had gradually filled with more and more of them, as if they could fill the void of loneliness.

His father had told him that his mother was “a little special”—that she only worried too much about his safety. His father had asked him to be patient, to understand her, and had made Yu Cha promise that once he started elementary school, she would respect his privacy and his social life.

And for a while, things had seemed better. He’d made new friends. Though he still didn’t bring them home, he’d thought his mom was learning to give him space—that their family was slowly getting healthier.

She had promised him. And yet—

His eyes fell on the new key in her hand, filled with disappointment.

That suffocating, all-encompassing control made him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

Yu Cha looked at her son, who had kept the door locked for so long, her expression equal parts worry and suspicion. “I was just worried about you,” she said softly. “Why didn’t you open the door for so long?”

Seeing her calm, dismissive tone—her unwillingness to explain or apologize—Xia Canming understood. Once again, she thought he was just a child, and that her promise didn’t really matter.

The disappointment gave way to weary acceptance. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at her sharp, sensitive gaze and forced a polite smile.

“Mom, I just didn’t want you to see my room all messy. I was cleaning up a little. Why are you looking for me so late?”

Yu Cha’s suspicious eyes swept over the room, taking in nothing but her son alone. She walked in and, without hesitation, pulled back the blanket on the bed that was bulging slightly.

Of course, there was no one there—only a few comic books and a flashlight.

She paced the room a few more times, finally stopping in confusion.

Xia Canming, both hurt and relieved, forced another smile. “Mom, what are you looking for in my room?”

Yu Cha pressed her lips together, her light brown eyes flickering away from his disappointed stare. Instead, she began anxiously, almost compulsively, searching around the room again.

After searching for quite a while, she still found nothing.

“Mom, it’s really late. Aren’t you going to sleep yet? Do you want me to help you look for it?”

Hearing her younger son’s voice behind her—gentle but carrying a hint of urging—Yu Cha frowned, torn and unwilling to give up.

If her husband, Xia Geng, who was away on a business trip, found out that she had broken her promise again, the consequence wouldn’t just be losing the privately made key—it would be the disappointment and distrust in both her husband’s and son’s eyes.

But she hadn’t done anything wrong!

She did hear another adult male’s voice. As a mother, was it wrong to worry about her young son’s safety and open the door with her key to check?

Just like before—when she had worried about how her son was doing in elementary school, whether his classmates bullied him—and secretly snuck into the school just to take a look.

But she’d been discovered by the teacher, who mistook her for some suspicious stranger. Even after she revealed her true identity as the boy’s parent, the teacher still wouldn’t let her see Xia Canming during class—and even went so far as to contact her husband, Xia Geng.

After learning about it, Xia Geng had rushed to the school to apologize to the teacher. When they got home, he had looked at her with that strange, uneasy expression, and since then, had forbidden her from picking up Xia Canming from school, even limiting her contact with him at home.

Why?!

That was her child too—born from her body! How could he, as a father, think that she would harm her own son?!

Later, Xia Geng had used a headache as an excuse to take her to the hospital, but instead brought her to a psychiatrist—and even made her take medication.

Yu Cha’s eyes shimmered with tears; she bit her lip tightly, staring at the fluttering curtain by the window.

Yes, she had made mistakes before—but hadn’t she already tried her best to change, to be a good mother? Why did Xia Geng still not trust her?

If even Xia Geng gave up on her… then she truly had nothing left. No family. She would be right back where she started when she first came to Baile Star—like a pile of useless mud.

Even that one child—the one who, no matter how unqualified a mother she had been, had once clung to her in the slums with eyes full of love and dependence, as if she were his entire world—had, years later, refused all contact with her, unwilling even to see her again.

Was this retribution?

Would a mother who had once heartlessly abandoned her child one day taste her own punishment—living in constant fear of being abandoned herself?

Wiping away her tears, Yu Cha’s light brown eyes took on a stubborn glint as she stared at the moonlight spilling through the window, as if she could see that pale, lonely child from the past within its glow.

She couldn’t give up.

She couldn’t have misheard—there was another person’s voice.

It was just hidden, hidden very deep. Once she found it, that would prove she wasn’t wrong—that she was still a good mother.

Seeing that his mother still wouldn’t give up, Xia Canming firmly walked toward the window. For a moment, he thought of all the things his mother might see.

What if she saw that handsome big brother? 

Or worse—what if she was the one who got found out?

He liked reading comic books, but even in comics, there were villains.

When that unfamiliar man had first appeared in his room, Xia Canming had been terrified. Thankfully, that mysterious big brother wasn’t a bad person—or maybe he’d just lowered his guard because Xia Canming was only six, harmless and small.

But his mother was an adult.

Xia Canming held his breath, nervous and scared, reaching out to grab Yu Cha—yet he was still… a step too late.

Yu Cha leaned out of the window, utterly silent—so quiet it was terrifying.

Xia Canming’s eyes widened, his small heart pounding so hard it felt like it would leap out of his throat. He was terrified something terrible would happen.

After several seconds of eerie stillness, Yu Cha suddenly moved. She slowly pulled the curtain back down and, when she turned around, her delicate face was adorned with a gentle smile full of affection.

“It’s windy tonight,” she said softly. “Mom was afraid you’d catch a cold, so I thought I’d close your curtains for you.”

That tender, motherly excuse made Xia Canming pause—his frightened expression freezing in surprise. Then, his little fists clenched in frustration.

“Mom, I won’t catch a cold that easily! You shouldn’t just come into my room whenever you want!”

Yu Cha frowned sadly, her voice low and soft. “Mom was just too worried about you. I really did think I heard another person’s voice in your room.”

Xia Canming’s eyes flickered, but he still said firmly, “That’s impossible. You must’ve misheard, Mom. It’s just me in here. Maybe I was talking in my sleep and you heard it, or maybe the wind carried over our neighbor’s voices from next door.”

Yu Cha murmured in confusion, “Did I really mishear it?”

Xia Canming quietly breathed out in relief. He didn’t care about being an honest child anymore and just nodded along.
“Of course you misheard, Mom. We’re on the tenth floor, and my room’s so small—how could there be anyone else in here at this hour?”

Yu Cha’s delicate face paled. Her brows furrowed tightly as doubt crept in—had she really hallucinated again?

But that couldn’t be. She’d been off the medication for years now—how could she be hearing things?

Could it be… the psychiatric pills themselves?

But Xia Geng had said they were just to help her relax—to ease her nerves, help her sleep a little better. He said they had no side effects.

Even the psychiatrist had said she’d improved—had lowered her dosage, encouraged her to relax more, to shift her focus elsewhere: watch movies, pick up hobbies, and come in for regular check-ups.

So how could she be hallucinating now?

Yu Cha’s pupils trembled, her thoughts a blur of confusion. Maybe… maybe she really had misheard. Maybe there truly was no one in her son’s room.

Maybe… the problem was her.

That thought filled her with cold terror. She didn’t dare think further—what if the past started repeating itself again?

Seeing that his mother no longer seemed suspicious, Xia Canming let out a fake yawn, half-closing his eyes as he mumbled, “It’s really late, Mom. I wanna sleep.”

“Yes, you should sleep,” Yu Cha replied quickly, suddenly anxious. Realizing she had not only barged into her son’s room but also disturbed his rest, guilt and fear tightened around her heart.

Slender fingers brushed nervously over Xia Canming’s face — again and again, almost obsessively checking his condition. Her pale brown eyes, intense and unsettling, fixed on his flushed and uneasy gaze, filled with fear that he might fall ill from lack of sleep — fear of so many things, each one feeding the next, drawing her deeper and deeper into anxious thought…

When she came back to herself, her sharp nails had already left red marks across Xia Canming’s tender cheeks. His soft flax-colored hair shifted slightly, revealing a pair of pure, childlike brown eyes — a shade deeper than his mother’s.

Under the strands of hair that had hidden his face, his small, clean features were revealed — and there, from his brow to his ear, ran a scar, dark brown and faintly ridged with time, still fierce in shape, the kind that had once cut to the bone.

For a moment, Yu Cha’s heart lurched violently. Her sharp nails scraped across his skin again, making Xia Canming wince in pain — but he quickly lifted his head, forcing a shy, obedient smile for his fragile, sensitive mother.

“Mom?”

Yu Cha came to herself, instantly withdrawing her hand. Covering her face, she began to sob softly, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you back then. I won’t barge into your room again. I won’t wake you in the middle of the night anymore.”

Hurt him?

Xia Canming touched the raised ridge of the scar near his brow thoughtfully. It didn’t hurt anymore.

His father had once told him that it came from an accident when he was two.

When his father spoke of it, his expression had been full of sorrow and complexity. Still, he’d held Xia Canming close and gently told him everything.

His parents had met by chance — not in some romantic park or restaurant, but in a hospital filled with the smell of disinfectant. They were both patients, drawn together by shared misfortune, and found solace in each other during treatment.

Father had known about her bad habits, but chose to forgive them, believing that love could make her better.

But old habits die hard.

She was, in truth, an immature adult — clinging to those deep-rooted flaws.

When Xia Canming was two, her relapse came quietly. Without telling her husband, she left the house, leaving her baby alone in the crib.

When Father came home, he found the child on the floor — small body motionless, blood dried on the carpet.

The wife who should have been home was nowhere to be found. Phone calls went unanswered. Terrified for the boy’s safety, Father had no time to search for her — he rushed the child to the hospital instead.

Thankfully, after surgery, the doctors said the boy would recover. A period of observation, then discharge. Only a scar would remain.

Yu Cha had only appeared when she received the news, her steps unsteady, her eyes unfocused — and at a glance, Xia Geng knew she’d just taken drugs.

He had thought he could forgive her anything. But he’d been wrong. Some people cannot be saved — or perhaps he was too arrogant, believing he could pull her out of the mire.

So many things had happened afterward.

Father had given her one last, final chance.

Now, looking up at his bewildered, crying mother, Xia Canming felt the warmth of her tears falling on his skin — her pale brown eyes full of fear and self-loathing.

And yet, even in her fragility, he could feel it — she was trying. Awkwardly, desperately, she was trying to love him right.

He had long since stopped caring about the scar. It looked a bit scary when visible, so Father had let him keep his soft curls a little longer to cover it. When hidden, it didn’t affect his face — or his life.

“Mom, I’m fine,” he said gently.

Speaking like a small, overly sensible adult, he wrapped his arms around her waist, his little hands patting her trembling back in comfort.

He did it over and over until her sobs slowly subsided.

A hoarse voice murmured in confusion: “I just wanted… to be a good mother.”

“I know,” he whispered.

Xia Canming held her in his small embrace — his tiny shoulders supporting her as she leaned against him, her clear, red-rimmed eyes shedding tears that soaked the back of his neck. She seemed to draw warmth from his small body.

“I know you’re trying, Mom. I believe in you,” he said softly. His innocent face showed a wisdom beyond his years — warm, gentle, and fleetingly full of guilt.

— I’m sorry, Mom. I lied to you this time.

***

After coaxing his mother back to bed, Xia Canming was completely exhausted.

The clock on the wall pointed to four a.m. If he waited a little longer, he could probably watch the sunrise.

Thinking of the sunrise, his gaze drifted to the window. Moonlight streamed quietly through the night — calm and deep, yet hiding something, pulling at his curiosity.

But in the end, he lay back down, obediently under his cartoon blanket, forcing himself to close his eyes tight.

Really tight.

For a while, all was still.

Then, unable to resist, Xia Canming cracked one eye open. It was probably impossible that the big brother was still here… but still, he whispered softly into the empty room:

“Big brother, are you still there?”

“…”

A few seconds passed.

Xia Canming groaned, burying his head under the blanket, deciding to sleep for real this time—

Until a teasing male voice drifted through the quiet.

“I’m here.”

Xia Canming’s eyes flew open under the blanket. Peeking through the seams, he saw — on the windowsill bathed in moonlight — that same elegant, strikingly handsome man.

He had entered the house without a sound.

Those dark, deep eyes gleamed with amusement, locking right onto the child hidden under the blanket. There was no hint of guilt for startling him — only a faint, mischievous curve to his lips.