After Being Deceived, I Married Someone Else and Had Children Chapter 48

It was a night filled with laughter and song.

Everything looked so perfect. The children were as happy as if they were playing endless games—singing, dancing, performing skits…

Though their shows lacked the polish of adults, their little mistakes—like the child in a bumblebee costume who fell asleep mid-dance, or the one doing a comedy skit who forgot his lines, smacked his head, then remembered and grinned—only made the adults watching them laugh all the more.

Midway through the event, all the children pressed their little hands onto a huge sheet painted with a blue planet. One by one, the handprints bloomed across the “Earth” like flowers.

Zuo Shihuan sat alone in an unseen VIP box, his fingers interlaced, watching intently. His light brown eyes were fixed on that cerulean planet with a deep, quiet emotion. The corners of his lips curved in a gentle smile.

It was as if he were seeing the kind of sunny, peaceful days he had always longed for.

Yu Lizhu, just finishing a video call, came over and caught this rare side of him—his whole being seemed relaxed for once. The tension and restraint usually in him were gone; his light brown eyes were soft, like a warm breeze brushing over a hill of golden wheat.

Yu Lizhu arched a brow and smiled, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Looks like you’re really enjoying this charity auction. I thought you’d find these kids’ performances boring.”

Zuo Shihuan’s gaze was calm and warm. He smiled lightly. “Are adults’ performances any less dull? At least children perform with sincerity. The way they try so hard—that’s what moves people most. You could sit down and watch with me.”

“No thanks, you keep watching. I already saw it once during rehearsal.”

Yu Lizhu had just begun to sound disinterested when a call came through. Seeing that it was from the auction’s organizing director, she answered in mild confusion.

“What’s the matter?”

The director hesitated. “Well, Miss Yu, the teachers from the Federation Primary School want to borrow one of your bodyguards. Apparently one of the child actors has gone missing…”

Yu Lizhu blinked in surprise, then nodded. “All right, let them borrow one. Which bodyguard do they want?”

The director paused. “…Actually, they’ve already picked someone.”

Suddenly, loud laughter and cheers erupted from the hall.

Yu Lizhu instinctively turned toward the stage—only to see one of her Alpha bodyguards, a burly man well over 1.9 meters tall, red-faced and awkwardly dressed in a fairy godmother’s gown. Holding a little script, he was woodenly reading out the fairy godmother’s lines.

The child playing Cinderella stared wide-eyed and stammered, “Fairy uncle—oh no, I mean fairy godmother—thank you for the crystal slippers and pumpkin carriage. I promise I’ll be home before midnight!”

If that weren’t enough, Yu Lizhu also saw her other Alpha and Beta bodyguards standing at the side of the stage, completely shameless—slapping their thighs and laughing uproariously at their poor colleague’s misery.

Even through the soundproof glass of her box, Yu Lizhu could still hear their laughter.

As for the Alpha bodyguard standing under the bright stage lights, his eyes were red with humiliation, yet he still swung the fairy wand dutifully, keeping up with little Cinderella’s lines.

A special-effect spotlight lit up the child’s gown, glowing with a dreamy blue shimmer. Sparkles and butterflies danced in the light.

The director’s voice came nervously through the communicator: “Originally, the fairy godmother role in the Cinderella play was supposed to be done by a chubby little boy wearing a wig. Everything was arranged during rehearsal. But just before the show, he suddenly had a stomachache and ran to the bathroom—and the costume disappeared with him…”

“When they couldn’t find anyone to fill in, one of the teachers remembered there was still a leftover Halloween costume—a joke version of a fairy godmother outfit—but it was way too big. Only one of Miss Yu’s tall Alpha bodyguards could fit into it…”

“The bodyguard didn’t want to wear it at first, but the teacher, um, told him it was already approved by you, Miss Yu… so he had no choice. The teacher wanted to apologize afterward…”

Yu Lizhu burst into laughter, watching her normally stoic bodyguard turn red to his ears on stage. She immediately sat down beside Zuo Shihuan, eyes bright with amusement.

“I take back what I said earlier. Watching it again isn’t so bad after all—life needs a few surprises to stay interesting.”

Zuo Shihuan glanced at her—she was laughing so hard her eyes were glowing, even slapping her knees until they turned pink.

You’d never guess this was the same dignified, elegant Miss Yu who just moments ago had claimed she found children’s plays dull.

He raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly, shaking his head.

But he didn’t call her out—after all, it was other people’s mishaps she found entertaining.

***

The charity auction came to an end.

The children who had performed so earnestly were taken to a side hall that had been prepared in advance, where they had a little celebration feast—eating, drinking, laughing. Some, too tired to stay awake, were carried home by teachers or parents.

The total donations, counting both on-site contributions and livestream tips, exceeded twenty million federal credits.

Especially thanks to “Fairy Uncle” from the Cinderella play, who briefly went viral and brought in huge publicity.

It could be called a complete success.

Even Zuo Shihuan found himself quietly pondering the sustainability of this kind of public, livestream-based charity model—though he soon dismissed the idea himself.

Because, only afterward, did he realize today was the Federation’s annual Children’s Day.

It had its own built-in popularity. The official Children’s Channel had taken the lead, major sponsors had invested heavily, and countless kindergartens and primary schools had joined in. The children’s innocent performances, the staff’s hard work, and a few strokes of lucky stage mishaps had all combined to make this event shine so brightly.

Otherwise—

Real charity events were never this dazzling.

A shadow passed through Zuo Shihuan’s eyes.

Even the charity work the Zuo family did publicly was already a mess beneath the surface.

When he first started managing Blue Eagle Group, he had taken charge of several charity projects. He’d thought that for a top-tier family like the Zuo clan, such small sums wouldn’t matter—but soon found himself neck-deep in chaos.

Layer upon layer of greedy hands reached out to embezzle funds.

In the end, less than three percent of the money ever reached those who truly needed it.

After Zuo Shihuan took over with a firm hand, that corruption eased somewhat—but only when he was watching. In corners beyond his reach, it still thrived unchecked.

And of course, he couldn’t oversee everything himself forever.

Just holding his ground as heir to the Zuo family felt like walking the edge of a cliff—one wrong step, and he would fall into ruin.

Occasionally.

Late at night, Zuo Shihuan, exhausted and massaging his aching temples, leaned back in his chair, showing a rare trace of weariness and confusion.

Was there any meaning in doing all these things that no one ever saw?

The endless stream of fraudulent reports, the unending rats—real and figurative—gnawed at his patience. Even his father, Zuo Zoujian, had once sat him down, puzzled as to why he was wasting his time on such thankless, laborious work.

But Zuo Shihuan himself couldn’t give an answer.

Maybe it was because, as a child lying in a garbage dump, dressed in rags, he had looked up at a vast, spotless blue sky and once imagined a hand reaching down to pull him out.

Since the old charity projects had rotted to the core and couldn’t be fixed,

Zuo Shihuan decided to destroy them in order to rebuild—directly creating a series of new charity programs under his own supervision. The old ones were quietly strangled, their funds withheld bit by bit under his authority as the Zuo family heir. The money saved was poured into transparent, publicly audited projects that he personally oversaw.

Now, the new projects were starting to show some results—but it still wasn’t enough.

Zuo Shihuan would wait patiently for everything to return to a path of light.

Only—

After watching today’s Children’s Day charity auction, seeing the event succeed through the efforts of both adults and children alike, he found a renewed sense of hope.

He thought, being under the sun was always better than lying in the damp, shadowy trash heap.

What remained depended on adults like him—to push the light farther, to make sure garbage dumps were no longer garbage dumps, to keep the blue planet forever clear and blue.

At the very least, for the next generation, Zuo Shihuan hoped the future would always be filled with sunlight.

However—

Reality seldom grants such wishes.

Click.

The lights dimmed.

The once-lively stage was suddenly shrouded in darkness. The host stepped slowly down, and a cleaning robot rolled out to sweep the floor.

In the empty museum hall, only the soft whirring of the cleaning robot remained.

Thinking the charity auction had ended, Zuo Shihuan stood up to bid farewell to Yu Lizhu, his light brown eyes carrying a gentle, luminous smile.

“Tonight’s charity auction was quite interesting, but I should be heading back. I hope you’ll invite me again if there’s another event like this…”

Hearing this, Yu Lizhu fell silent for a moment. Then, slowly lifting her gaze, she said, “Actually, there’s another auction.”

Zuo Shihuan frowned in confusion. “Another auction? Where? Do we have to go somewhere else?”

If it were elsewhere, Zuo Shihuan had no intention of going.

A flicker of hesitation crossed Yu Lizhu’s eyes before she forced a stiff smile. “Did you forget? There’s someone I wanted to introduce you to. You said before that you were interested in him. I finally heard that he’d be attending this event.”

Zuo Shihuan’s brows drew together. Sensing something off in her expression, he immediately asked, “What’s going on?”

Before Yu Lizhu could answer—

Click!

The lights came back on.

But unlike the earlier brilliance of the charity auction—where each beam had glowed like a small sun, warming every face—

this time the lights were dim, murky.

Only a hazy beam shone upon the center platform. At some point, rows of fine leather chairs had been placed in the audience.

Masked figures—faces hidden behind ornate disguises—took their seats one by one.

Zuo Shihuan’s expression grew darker, his gaze complicated as it lingered on the guilty look on Yu Lizhu’s face. But in the end, he said nothing—only sat back down, his eyes cold and still.

Yu Lizhu whispered an apology, pained: “I’m sorry. I thought you already knew.”

Zuo Shihuan said nothing.

She continued, remorseful: “I really only meant for you to attend the first charity event. I didn’t intend for you to join this hidden, second underground auction. That’s why I never gave you an official invitation. But when I heard that Dr. Ji Zhaohe would be here—since you’ve always admired his talent and ability, and wanted to recruit him to Blue Eagle Group without success—I thought…”

Zuo Shihuan’s voice was cool: “So, Dr. Ji Zhaohe is attending this auction as well.”

Yu Lizhu nodded slowly.

A fleeting look crossed Zuo Shihuan’s eyes. He pressed his lips together. “Forget it. You meant well, trying to introduce us. It’s not like this is my first time at such an auction.”

He gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh.

Yu Lizhu’s gaze steadied. “On Yu family grounds, there won’t be any… special items.”

Zuo Shihuan turned his head slightly. “Then I’ll trust you this once.”

Yu Lizhu’s smile was complex. “I’m human too. How could I allow such inhuman acts? But as for Yu family business, I don’t have much power to interfere. Just use your influence—silence the rotten voices, for now.”

Zuo Shihuan lifted his gaze. “Do you need my help?”

Yu Lizhu shook her head. “I’m not like you. The Yu family wouldn’t allow me to act on impulse.”

***

The real auction began.

A new host appeared—wearing a white smiling mask. Two women in bunny costumes wheeled out a metal cage.

Standing at the center of the stage, the masked host lifted the drape in one swift motion—revealing a living, snarling zerg creature. It let out a furious screech, its corrosive saliva dripping through the reinforced steel bars and burning a hole straight into the wooden floor.

The two bunny girls screamed and bolted from the stage.

The host in the white mask, however, exclaimed with excitement—

“The underground auction officially begins!”

“The first item—an actual, living Zerg! It’s killed one hundred and thirty-five Federation border soldiers! It took countless resources to capture and smuggle it alive all the way to the Federation’s main planet!”

“Starting bid—fifty million Federation credits!”

From the audience, Dr. Ji Zhaohe lifted his eyes, his deep green irises glinting with undisguised interest.