Dior Kent (Please Follow)

Dior Kent (Please Follow)

"Is this good enough?"

After driving his tractor and stuffing the oval object covered in black cloth into his warehouse basement, Locke went through the motions and asked, "Are you really planning to adopt that baby?"

"You know, we need a child."

Jonathan patted Locke on the shoulder. His tone was firm, though a trace of exhaustion flashed in his eyes.

Locke frowned and glanced at the still-smoking ruins of the Kent family barn, concern in his voice. "But your barn just burned down. What about this year's harvest? Financially, I mean."

"Hahaha."

Jonathan laughed awkwardly and scratched his head.

"Actually, I didn't have time to move the grain into the barn this afternoon, so the losses weren't that severe."

"Fortunately, most of the wheat was still piled in the temporary shed by the fields."

Hearing that, much of Locke's guilt faded.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Dior had been drawn here because of him, leading to this accident.

That fire, that mysteriously vanished man—everything was too strange.

Was this how that adoption cheat delivered children to him?

"Come on. Martha's waiting for us."

Interrupting Locke's thoughts, Jonathan sounded a little more relaxed.

The two walked toward the Kent house together.

The lingering moonlight fell upon the charred barn ruins, casting them in a dark red glow.

Fortunately, this was a remote farm. A fire in a grain barn wouldn't draw much attention.

Only the Locke farm, whose house had been built closer to Jonathan's, could spot it at a glance.

Bang!

When they pushed open the door, Martha was sitting on the living room sofa, holding two babies in her arms, her face full of worry.

"You're back!"

She looked up, her gaze urgently sweeping over the two men. "The... spaceship has been hidden, right?"

Locke nodded and lowered his voice. "I put it in my basement and covered it with black cloth. No one will find it for now."

Martha let out a breath, and her tense shoulders relaxed.

"But it really is strange." Jonathan muttered as he sat down on the sofa, his rough fingers gently brushing over Clark's swaddling cloth. "How could the barn suddenly catch fire? There was nothing wrong with the wiring, no thunderstorm, not even a spark."

Martha shook her head, looking confused.

"Not long after we left, the fire started. It was almost like..." She paused, seeming to weigh her words. "Like something crashed straight into it?"

Locke's heart skipped a beat. He cleared his throat and said, half seriously and half jokingly, "Maybe the weather was too dry? The temperature inside the grain pile got too high and it caught fire?"

"When I found this child at my doorstep, I heard a huge boom. Then your barn caught fire."

Jonathan and Martha both looked up, their gazes shifting back and forth between Locke and Dior.

"You mean..." Jonathan frowned. "When this child appeared, the barn caught fire?"

Locke nodded, deliberately putting on a helpless expression.

"I think it's strange too, but that's what happened."

"I see..." Martha fell silent for a moment, then sighed softly. Looking down at the two children in her arms, a smile slowly curved her lips. Her eyes were so gentle they could have melted ice and snow. "Maybe this is a blessing in disguise."

She looked down at the two children in her arms.

"The more I look at these two, the more I like them. Especially this little one—he sleeps so soundly."

She gently stroked Clark's forehead, then glanced at Dior beside him. "It's just that this blond little one cried so hard earlier. At least he's finally quiet now."

Jonathan froze for a moment, then smiled as well.

"Yeah. We may have lost a grain barn, but we gained two wonderful children."

Unable to suppress his amusement, Locke stepped closer and looked down at Dior.

The baby's blond hair carried a faint sheen beneath the lamplight, while the star-shaped birthmark on his neck stood out vividly.

He couldn't help reaching out to touch Dior's tiny hand, only for the baby to suddenly clutch his finger.

"Looks like he really likes you, Locke." Martha handed the baby to Locke with a smile, then added wistfully, "Do you really plan to adopt him? You're still single, after all. If you adopt this child..."

"Mm... since I happened to find him..." Locke took Dior and held him in his arms. "Maybe this is fate between him and me, just like it is between you two and that child."

"Hahahaha!"

"Then from today onward, our family will have two little ones! Clark Kent, and..."

He paused and looked at Locke. "What should this child be called?"

Locke fell silent for a moment. In his mind flashed the man who had turned to ashes, along with the system's cold prompt in his ears.

He took a deep breath and said slowly, "Dior Kent."

"Dior Kent." Jonathan repeated the name, nodding with a smile. "A good name!"

Seven years passed in the blink of an eye.

No one paid much attention to the fact that two ordinary families had gained two children.

Perhaps thanks to those two little ones, the farmers of Smallville had been living better and better over the past few years.

Even Locke, who had only become a farmer a few years earlier, had expanded his farm. Through careful budgeting and mutual support with Jonathan, he had escaped the crushing burden of taxes.

Jonathan and Martha were the same. Their barn had long since been rebuilt, even larger and sturdier than before. Even their old tractor had been replaced with the latest model.

But what the townspeople talked about most were the Kent family's two children—

Clark and Dior.

Clark had displayed extraordinary traits from a young age.

His strength was astonishing. At five, he could easily lift hay bales that grown adults couldn't even budge. He ran like the wind, so fast that not even the quickest sheepdogs on the Smallville farms could catch him.

Jonathan and Martha, who had discovered that Clark was different from ordinary people, were both proud and worried.

All they could do was remind Clark again and again, "Be careful. Don't let anyone find out."

By comparison, Dior was the textbook example of—

someone else's child.

He could read books fluently at three. At five, he was already helping Locke with chores alongside Clark, and he was polite and respectful to everyone.

Even at the town kindergarten, he was known to the teachers as "a well-mannered little genius."

The townspeople envied him endlessly.

They often came to Locke to ask about his parenting experience and Dior's daily life.

So...

What did our little genius do every day?

"Dad."

"Uncle Jonathan, boo-hoo..."

"Clark, did you bully Dior again?" Martha crouched down and wiped Dior's tears. "Be good, don't cry."

"I didn't." Clark helplessly held up a book with sparse clumps of mush stuck to it. "I just wanted to see what book Dior was reading. I didn't expect to use too much force and throw it into the pig trough."

"Clark, don't use force on your little brother. You're far too strong, and Dior is just an ordinary person." Jonathan sighed. "You need to learn to hold back."

"I really did hold back." The more Clark spoke, the more aggrieved he sounded. His eyes even began to redden. "I really didn't mean to..."

"Alright, Clark." Martha stroked Clark's head. "You're the older brother. Apologize to Dior first."

"Why am I the one apologizing again? I didn't do anything wrong!"

Bang!

The door opened. The man who entered folded up his umbrella, hanging it up as he complained, "The weather's been far too unpredictable lately. Jonathan, remember to keep an eye on your haystacks."

"Huh?!"

As if remembering something, Jonathan rushed outside. "My haystacks!"

Well.

The two of them still looked much the same as they had seven years ago.

Of course, that was impossible.

Locke had grown much more robust, and it even seemed as if he had gone through another growth spurt.

If measured carefully...

one would find that he had grown from 187 centimeters to an astonishing 195 centimeters!

[PS:

New author, new book. Brothers, please tap follow and keep reading.

For those planning to stockpile chapters, just add it to your favorites, skip to the end, and mark it as read.

Many thanks, brothers.

orz!

Bang bang bang!]