Chapter 545 If Only Callan Were the Kids’ Real Dad

• Callan said it straight-faced: “It’s fine. I did great in school.” Sienna: “...” So he’s still calling her dumb, huh? Callan checked the time and shooed her off: “Let’s keep going. Don’t interrupt our study time.” Then he started the next passage. His pronunciation was beautiful, like a nineteenth‑century gentleman out of a movie. Usually he was all ice and steel, but the moment he stepped into the nursery, the chill fell away. He softened, like the room itself gentled him. Sienna had a sudden, aching thought: if only Callan were the kids’ real father. The thought stung, and she gave a self‑mocking shake of her head. Kaylee was annoyed too. How could she push Lin Feng to tighten security at the estate without making him suspicious? That was the puzzle. She was always with Sienna, from dawn till dusk, and didn’t know Lin Feng well. And Lin Feng was clearly a badass. Now that she knew he worked for Callan, he seemed even more formidable. The guy rarely smiled, stayed distant from everyone. Don’t even think about walking up to chat. If he caught her sneaking a look, he’d probably think she was plotting something. In her peripheral vision, Lin Feng was already jogging back. Old Mr. Moore had finished his tai chi, and Kaylee still hadn’t found the right excuse. She kept doing her tai chi, not noticing Old Mr. Moore had come over. He followed her gaze—Lin Feng happened to run past. “Lin Feng’s a good kid,” Old Mr. Moore said. Kaylee jolted. She was mid–Parting the Wild Horse’s Mane—when had the old man gotten this close? “Sir, what did you say?” “I said Lin Feng’s a good kid. His family’s decent. He’s got a younger sister in college, parents work in public service, and the marital home is already set. They’re just waiting for him to bring a girlfriend home and get married.” Old Mr. Moore looked at Kaylee with eager kindness. “Kay, want me to set you two up?” Kaylee looked struck by lightning. “Set—set us up?” She shook her head so fast it was a blur. “No, no, thank you, sir. I’m not—I don’t—I’m—uh—” “I get it, I get it. You young folks don’t like elders meddling.” Hands clasped behind his back, Old Mr. Moore nodded. “Alright, alright. You handle it yourselves. I’ll stay out of it.” He strolled off, cheerful as ever. Kaylee: “...” Who am I? Where am I? What am I even doing? Still dazed, she heard a loud, click‑tongued “tsk” behind her. “Didn’t expect your type to be Lin Feng. One’s all cold fish, the other’s a tomboy. If you two have kids, you planning on asexual reproduction?” Kaylee turned. Sometime during her daze, Ginger had sauntered over. He leaned against a tree, a dry twig he’d snapped off dangling from his lips. For some reason, Kaylee always wanted to laugh when she saw him. It wasn’t that Ginger looked funny—Young Master Ginger was handsome in that slick, carefree way. And he was pale, the current “pretty boy” vibe—clean, sunny, good‑looking. Kaylee didn’t get mad. She hadn’t figured out a solution yet anyway, so she decided to tease him instead. “Why say that, Ginger? Some men look cold, but maybe they burn hot in private.” Ginger curled his lip. “Even if he burns hot in private, it won’t be for you.” Kaylee walked closer, hands tucked in her pockets. “Then tell me, Ginger—what kind of man fits me?” Ginger actually took her in with a thoughtful look.