After Being Deceived, I Married Someone Else and Had Children Chapter 47

The charity auction had begun.

Normally, Zuo Shihuan had no interest in auctions. He wasn’t a collector, and things like this rarely caught his attention. But this time, the event wasn’t a serious auction in the traditional sense.

The organizers had invited not only prominent figures and elites, but also kindergartens and elementary schools from across the Federation to take part in an educational performance activity. Some parents from ordinary families had brought their children along as well.

The opening of the auction was more like a Children’s Day showcase.

Usually, the host would begin by introducing expensive auction items — but today, he smiled kindly as he led a group of brightly dressed children onto the stage, each wearing a big, colorful flower headpiece.

With enthusiasm, the host announced: “Please welcome the children from Little Sun Kindergarten, who will perform a lovely song — White Dove, Blue Sky! Each child has also made their own badge to wear. If you think a particular child sings beautifully, you can bid to buy their badge to show your support!”

“All proceeds from today’s auction will go toward helping children from impoverished border planets! And those watching from home on the Children’s Channel can also participate in the live auction!”

“Now, let’s thank our sponsors — XX Corporation and XXX Corporation…”

Several cameras were set up, all focused on the stage.

Even the host — who had worked in the auction industry for years — felt a little nervous. He was used to private, exclusive auctions where buyers often participated through intermediaries rather than attending in person.

This was his first time presiding over such a lively event — one that was being broadcast live across the Federation’s Children’s Channel.

When the children finished their song, applause thundered through the hall.

Smiling, the host began his real work — inviting one child to stand under the stage lights and raise their handmade badge for introduction.

“This is a badge made by Guo Dan, a student from Little Sun Kindergarten’s middle class. He used his own collection of Federation Hero Cards and little red-flower rewards from his teacher. It took him several days to make. Guo Dan says that whoever buys this badge will be a hero like him — helping children in need on the border worlds.”

“The starting price is 10 Federation credits, with each bid increase—”

Before the host could even finish, voices called out from below the stage:

“100 Federation credits!”

“150 Federation credits!”

“I’ll pay 500 Federation credits!”

Usually, a host would worry about items going unsold — but not today. The hall was full of cheerful shouting and raised paddles, one after another.

The host was so busy he could barely keep up, sweating as he finalized one bid only to start another.

Many of those bidding were actually the children’s own parents, and the sums were small — the smallest transactions the host had ever overseen.

But whether on stage or in the audience, everyone wore bright, happy smiles. The joy was infectious, and even the host — used to the cold, mechanical atmosphere of elite auctions — felt his energy return, his introductions becoming livelier and more heartfelt. He almost felt a few years younger.

He even thought to himself that maybe, one day, he should try being a host on the Children’s Channel.

The first round of the auction concluded successfully.

In the private room, Zuo Shihuan’s eyes glimmered with quiet amusement as he toyed with a few rough, cartoonish badges — so out of place with his usual refined style. He watched the group of children joyfully hopping off stage, clutching their reward balloons.

The host, excited, announced: “Congratulations to the children of Little Sun Kindergarten! Together, they’ve raised 1,562,307 Federation credits! All of these funds will go toward purchasing medical assistive devices for disabled children on the border planets!”

The children cheered with delight.

Only one person in the audience scowled, frowning in irritation.

“So noisy.”

Nearby parents turned angrily toward him — only to freeze when they saw who had spoken.

It was a man wearing a long white lab coat, as though he’d just rushed over from a research lab. He sat awkwardly among the kindergarten parents, his dark sunglasses giving off an air of keep away.

Even under the glasses, his sharp, handsome features were apparent. His long legs were crossed, black hair falling to his shoulders in disheveled waves. His cold-pale lips pressed together, expression unreadable, he ignored everyone around him.

Parents who recognized him quickly turned back around, pretending not to see.

No one dared provoke this notorious “kindergarten parent.”

He was infamous — the one who, at the slightest provocation, would lash out with venomous words. He had made several children cry so badly that their families had withdrawn them from the school altogether.

Sitting beside him, however, was a little girl who seemed used to it. She spoke softly: “Little He, we have to respect other people’s performances. These are my kindergarten classmates.”

The little girl sat properly in her chair, doll-like in her smallness. Her fine, pale-golden hair fell in silky strands around her face. Her features were delicate and gentle, and her light green eyes were pure and clear — like morning dew, or the soft droop of willow branches by a lakeside.

In short, she was a child of extraordinary gentleness — in both temperament and appearance.

At kindergarten, she was gentle and considerate toward the teachers, often helping the busy ones take care of crying children. She was very much loved by her classmates.

Every parent who had seen the little girl couldn’t help wondering what kind of family could raise such a well-behaved and sensible child—she was practically the model “child from someone else’s home.”

But once they met the little girl’s guardian, they were immediately ignored, met with an eye-roll, and verbally scorched—three strikes in a row that sent them scurrying away in fright.

There was no way this venomous man could have raised such an angelic child!

The kindergarten parents all looked at the blonde little girl sitting beside the visibly impatient man with pity in their eyes.

Those looks alone were enough to ignite Ji Zhaohe’s temper. His brows drew tight in irritation, and his pale lips lifted as he snapped coldly:

“D*mn this so-called ‘federation compulsory education.’ D*mn those kindergarten teachers! I never should have let you go to this childish, idiotic place in the first place. You have me, a genius doctor of science, by your side—what need have you for some dimwitted young Beta teacher who can’t even do basic calculus?”

Ji Sener smiled softly, long accustomed to soothing him. “But since we’re in the Federation now, we have to follow the Federation’s rules. Besides, you’re busy with your experiments during the day and don’t have time to look after me. This way, I go to kindergarten in the daytime, and we can see each other in the evenings.”

Ji Zhaohe narrowed his dark green eyes. Of course he understood the logic—but still…

Just then, a group of children who had finished singing came running noisily off the stage. They crowded around Ji Sener, waving their little arms excitedly.

“Sener! It’s such a pity you didn’t sing with us! Your voice is so nice when you talk—you’d sound amazing if you sang!”

Ji Sener smiled. “I don’t know how to sing.”

One brave child named Guo Dan piped up, “If you don’t, I can teach you! I’m really good at singing—I was the lead singer just now!”

A faint shadow passed through Ji Sener’s pale green eyes, but she still smiled gently and shook her head.

Guo Dan wasn’t ready to give up. He thought Sener was the best child in the entire kindergarten—she could do almost anything. Once, he had even overheard her quietly humming; her voice was as clear and lovely as a lark singing in the forest.

So why wouldn’t she sing for everyone?

But then a cold, cutting voice broke in: “She won’t sing for anyone.”

Guo Dan froze. It was that strange man again—the one who always controlled Sener, forbidding her this and that, always picking her up the instant school ended.

He’d never once seen Sener go to anyone else’s house to play!

Guo Dan frowned in indignation. “Are you her dad or her brother? Either way, Ji Sener should have the freedom to choose who she wants to play with!”

At those words—

Ji Sener’s pupils contracted sharply. She turned her head in fear toward Ji Zhaohe.

Behind his sunglasses, the dark green eyes gleamed with a cold, metallic light—inhuman and deadly. His pale lips curved faintly upward.

Sener didn’t dare show fear; she immediately grabbed Ji Zhaohe’s hand, pleading in a small voice, “I can transfer schools. Please…”

Ji Zhaohe turned his gaze aside, the metallic green of his eyes fixed on Sener’s tense, sweating face. His tone was quiet, unreadable.

“Do you care that much about these children who just play make-believe with you?”

Ji Sener knew the answer he wanted. Meeting his unstable gaze, she said firmly, “No. I just can’t turn my back on any child who needs help right in front of me.”

Ji Zhaohe stared at her in silence.

The air grew tight and heavy, stretched to the limit. Ji Sener held her breath, her pale green eyes wide and trembling, almost ready to grab the other children and run.

Then, at last, Ji Zhaohe’s lips curved faintly. “You’re still as ridiculously kind as before.”

Ji Sener quietly exhaled in relief. Her eyes softened with a gentle smile. “I don’t think kindness is ever something to be ashamed of.”

Ji Zhaohe’s eyes paused—something flickered in them, like a brief recollection—but then the coldness returned. He turned away. “You’ll transfer tomorrow.”

Ji Sener lowered her head, reluctant but understanding that this was the best outcome she could hope for.

“…Okay.”

Beside them, little Guo Dan still looked confused. He didn’t understand their conversation, nor did he realize he had just provoked something terrifying—and narrowly escaped with his life.

Seeing that the strange man had fallen silent, Guo Dan assumed it was safe again. He reached out, wanting to pull Ji Sener’s hand to play—

Only to have her slap it away.

The sharp sound made her small palm sting red.

Guo Dan blinked in confusion. It hurt, but more than that, he was upset. He frowned, pouted, and trudged off, sulking.

Ji Zhaohe’s eyes were full of mockery. His lips twisted into a cold sneer.

“How dull. A completely meaningless charity auction—just a bunch of boring, foolish people gathered to waste my time. When will the real auction start?”

Ji Sener said nothing.

Her pale green eyes were sad as she watched Guo Dan walk away, then looked back toward the stage at the other children, all smiling with innocent delight.

So pure. So unknowing.

So enviable.

She looked down at her own small, powerless hands. A flicker of confusion crossed her eyes—reality and the blurred fragments of memory tangled together in her mind.

—She was supposed to be like that.

—She shouldn’t be like that.

—Then what was she supposed to be?