Chapter 5

Chapter 5

How ironic: what he didn’t want was blessed, while what he truly desired remained forever out of reach.

The wedding proceeded as scheduled.

The ceremony was held at the Xiangshan Luxury Villas in the city center. A few years earlier, Fu Han had purchased the entire Xiangshan area, building villas on this mountain renowned for its heart-nurturing properties.

Many guests attended that day, making it an extremely lively affair. Ji Qingyu was roused early for makeup. The makeup artist cupped his face, turning it left and right in the mirror, and smiled, "Mrs. Fu, you look absolutely stunning."

Omegas were expected to wear qipaos for their weddings. While many male omegas now favored dresses in daily life, Ji Qingyu had been raised to see himself as a beta since childhood. His bone structure and muscles were larger than those of a typical omega, and this was his first time wearing a dress.

When Ji Ran pushed the door open, he found Ji Qingyu uncomfortably adjusting the hem of his gown.

"See what they say—clothes make the man," Ji Ran remarked, walking over. He picked up a pair of clip-on earrings from the table and fastened them to Ji Qingyu’s ears. Ji Qingyu winced slightly at the pain, furrowing his brows.

Ji Ran acted like a genuinely well-wishing, dutiful, and obedient younger brother, with a touch of childlike playfulness.

Ji Qingyu didn’t possess Ji Ran’s exceptional acting skills; his smile was forced. Ji Ran seemed to notice and turned to chat with the makeup artist instead.

The makeup artist was utterly charmed by his smooth talk. "You two brothers have such a good relationship. The rumors outside are clearly untrue."

Ji Ran didn’t take offense. His eyes crinkled into a smile as he looked at Ji Qingyu. "Of course, he’s my only brother, after all."

After the makeup artist finished and left, only the two of them remained in the room.

Ji Ran’s smile remained, but his tone shifted. "You’ve grown bold, daring to hang up on me."

"It was the middle of the night. I was exhausted and needed rest," Ji Qingyu lowered his head, attempting to defend himself.

Ji Ran’s expression darkened momentarily. His fingers danced across the rosewood table. "My concert is coming up soon. I’ll be performing a new song on stage. You’ve been writing lately, right?"

"I’ve been tutoring. I haven’t had time," Ji Qingyu avoided Ji Ran’s gaze, looking around the room instead.

Ji Ran sounded annoyed. "Quit the tutoring. I’ll pay you triple. Write the song for me, same as before—you don't get credit."

"...I’ve been too busy lately. I haven’t had time to write."

"Then write after the wedding," Ji Ran frowned. "You’re not trying to back out, are you? Don’t forget—"

Ji Qingyu finally mustered the courage to interrupt him. "Let’s not talk about this today."

Ji Ran fell silent for two seconds, his eyes drilled into Ji Qingyu’s face, his expression shifting unpredictably. Yet his tone remained as gentle as ever. "Fine. It’s your wedding day. I’ll give you a few days—consider it a wedding gift. We’ll discuss this later."

Ji Qingyu felt as if he would suffocate if he stayed any longer. He turned and walked out. The hallway was decorated with confetti streams and red silk. The banquet hall was filled with celebrities and dignitaries, and as he entered, various gazes swept over him.

Under everyone’s gaze, Ji Qingyu grew stiff.

The head of the Ji family and his wife had also arrived.

Ji Qingyu had never met his biological father before. Ji Ran had once told him that his father had a one-night stand with Lin Ying while drunk.

That night had been careless. Since Lin Ying was unwilling and Ji Deyong had failed to use protection, Ji Qingyu was conceived by accident.

Afterward, Ji Deyong neither took responsibility for Lin Ying nor agreed to provide financial support. Ji Qingyu had never heard the details from Lin Ying; before reaching adulthood, he didn’t even know who his father was.

The head of the Ji family, arm in arm with a gentle-looking omega, was impeccably dressed and greeting guests. When he spotted Ji Qingyu, he immediately waved him over.

Disgust churned in Ji Qingyu’s stomach. He pretended not to notice and tried to slip away.

Ji Deyong’s voice, dripping with feigned indulgence, reached Ji Qingyu’s ears. "My son—I’ve spoiled him too much."

Ji Qingyu felt like laughing. It seemed the Ji family had a special gene for acting. If Ji Ran could channel such polished acting skills into his films, the roles he guest-starred in wouldn’t be so heavily criticized.

Ji Deyong’s voice grew louder. "Qingyu, come here and greet your father’s friends."

The word "father" sent shivers crawling down Ji Qingyu’s spine. He felt nauseated and intensely uncomfortable, a wave of awkwardness rising from his feet to the crown of his head. Many people were already looking his way. Before he could decide what to do next, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, and he collided with a solid wall of a chest.

He looked up and saw Fu Han wearing a muzzle.

Fu Han didn’t look at Ji Qingyu. Instead, his fingers patted Ji Qingyu’s shoulder rhythmically, pulling him firmly into an embrace. "It seems my tardiness has upset my father-in-law."

Ji Deyong’s face wrinkled into a smile. "Nonsense! We’re family. On such a joyous occasion, how could there be any anger?"

Fu Han casually pressed a champagne flute into Ji Qingyu’s hand.

He turned slightly, his eyes sweeping over Ji Qingyu. His large hand encircled Ji Qingyu’s wrist, and he affectionately tidied the hair beside Ji Qingyu’s ear. "Stay with me. Don’t be nervous."

Fu Han was wearing an embroidered Zhongshan suit woven with dragon patterns, which accentuated his tall, restrained demeanor. His serious appearance was undeniably alluring—even Ji Qingyu felt somewhat overwhelmed. His hand, held by Fu Han, grew sweaty. When Fu Han noticed Ji Qingyu’s stillness, he turned back to look at him.

"What’s wrong? Are you unwell?" Fu Han stood there, yet somehow still felt distant. Ji Qingyu shook his head, dismissing the inexplicable thought. He and Fu Han proceeded through a series of elaborate rituals: writing the marriage certificate, drinking sweet wine, and finally using gold-embroidered scissors to cut locks of their hair, which they entwined together.

Fu Han placed the intertwined hair into a red brocade pouch and fastened it to himself, his movements uncharacteristically stiff and hesitant.

Confetti rained down as the crowd cheered. Amid the celebration, Ji Qingyu looked into Fu Han’s eyes, but they remained as unreadable as ever, concealing emotions he couldn’t decipher.

During the evening banquet, he and Fu Han greeted countless toasting guests. Ji Qingyu swirled his wine glass absentmindedly, listening to Fu Han’s ever-genial small talk, when old memories unexpectedly surfaced.

After being scolded by Fu Han, Ji Qingyu had never dared to go near the storage room again. The group of alphas also became cautious, assuming Ji Qingyu had used his pretty face to climb the social ladder and gain Fu Han’s protection.

Thus, Ji Qingyu faced no further harassment, and his Mingde school life gradually improved.

Mingde was actually quite beautiful—lush greenery funded by wealthy parents, a piano room, even a dedicated art gallery. If one ignored the scheming and class discrimination among the students, it was a bright and lovely place.

Ji Qingyu enjoyed wandering the campus alone, jotting down inspirations in his notebook. The tail end of summer was neither too long nor too short; the warm breeze carried a hint of heat, lifting the hem of Ji Qingyu’s white shirt. He bit on his pen cap, leaning against a tree as he continued writing.

Time flew by, and the school organized a cultural performance. The teacher singled out Ji Qingyu from the arts students and assigned him to play the piano. "Qingyu, we’ve paired you with our honor student. Get along well and rehearse properly."

Honor student—Ji Qingyu never expected it to be the notorious Fu Han.

Before he could clearly see his face, Ji Qingyu noticed the muzzle on Fu Han. Fu Han had been standing in the shadows for who knows how long before casually strolling toward him.

The teacher left, leaving only the two of them on the vast stage. Fu Han’s footsteps echoed in the empty space.

Ji Qingyu tensed up. He had always been afraid of Fu Han—a bone-deep, instinctual fear. His legs felt weak, but he forced himself to sit straight on the stool and meet Fu Han’s gaze.

He couldn’t afford to lose composure.

Fu Han seemed amused by Ji Qingyu’s nervousness. He grabbed Ji Qingyu’s collar, leaning in slightly, his eyes lowered. "What’s wrong, classmate? Seen a ghost?"

What do you think...

Ji Qingyu’s fingers dug into the piano stool. He found this person utterly unreasonable, as if the one who had terrified him that day was someone else entirely.

In Fu Han’s eyes, fighting and intimidating omegas seemed perfectly normal. Ji Qingyu watched him warily, like a startled rabbit.

Fu Han held a speech draft in his hand. After staring at Ji Qingyu for two seconds, he reached out to touch Ji Qingyu’s face.

Ji Qingyu flinched, closing his eyes and pulling back.

Fu Han's hand hovered mid-air, then he let out a mocking laugh, "You're really such a coward."

Ji Qingyu opened his eyes and saw a small leaf pinched between Fu Han's fingers. He flushed with embarrassment—it must have stuck to him while he was napping under the tree shade.

Fu Han tossed the leaf into Ji Qingyu's palm, without another glance at him, turned and stretched with lazy indifference, commanding, "Let's rehearse."

Fu Han was responsible for the poetry recitation, while Ji Qingyu provided the accompaniment. After who knows how many repetitions, Fu Han rubbed his stiff neck, walked over, and kicked Ji Qingyu’s stool, startling him as he was still looking at his music.

"Huh?" Ji Qingyu didn’t understand what Fu Han meant. He'd even removed his bite guard. He instinctively leaned away, only to be pulled forward again by Fu Han.

"I'm hungry. Let’s eat. You’re coming with me." Fu Han braced one hand against the piano, pressed a few random keys as if bored, and cut off Ji Qingyu’s retreat with his other hand, not letting him leave.

It was a hot day. Fu Han took off his school jacket and tossed it into Ji Qingyu’s arms. Only then did Ji Qingyu notice the tattoo on Fu Han’s body—a ferocious beast perched on his shoulder, blending seamlessly with him.

"That piece you played—I’ve never heard it before." Fu Han headed toward the food court behind the school. Sitting in such a lively, ordinary setting, he looked like an untouchable mural.

Ji Qingyu separated two pairs of chopsticks, rubbed them together to remove splinters, wiped the small plate with a napkin, and poured some chili into it.

"It’s my own composition," Ji Qingyu’s voice held a note of expectation. "What… what do you think?"

Fu Han looked at Ji Qingyu and suddenly laughed. He took a fried dumpling, ate it, and didn’t speak until he’d swallowed. "It’s alright. Could be better."

"How… how could it be better?" Ji Qingyu felt a pang of nervousness. He remembered the omega Fu Han had bitten. He’d been distracted several times, couldn't bring himself to look at Fu Han and without much appetite.

Fu Han said, "Don’t you think your voice is pretty good?"

"But when I screamed for help, didn’t you tell me to shut up…" Ji Qingyu glanced secretly at Fu Han and mumbled under his breath.

Fu Han paused, taken aback, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Say that again?"

Ji Qingyu didn’t dare repeat it and ducked his head and focused on his food.

Fu Han suddenly pinched Ji Qingyu’s face, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned in and looked down. "Now that I look closely, you’re not bad-looking."

They were very close. Ji Qingyu crossed both hands over his chest, barely fending off the heat radiating from Fu Han. His ears turned red; he was somewhat afraid of Fu Han, so he averted his eyes.

Fu Han watched him. Ji Qingyu’s face reddened where he’d been pinched, the corners of his eyes also flushed. After a few silent seconds, Fu Han inexplicably let him go. Ji Qingyu quietly touched his face, feeling a stinging, cold pain.

After eating, Fu Han made no move to wait for Ji Qingyu. Noticing the untouched dumplings in front of him, Fu Han opened his wallet and threw a few hundred yuan at him. "Go buy yourself something."

"No need," Ji Qingyu refused, but Fu Han had already stood up and walked away without looking back. "If you don’t want it, just leave it."

Ji Qingyu clutched the new bills, stared blankly for a moment before realizing Fu Han had just been bored eating alone.

Right, what was he thinking…

The money was fresh from the wallet, but it felt scorching to the touch.

Ji Qingyu folded the money, placed it on the table under the bowl, and sat for a while in a complicated mood before finally standing up, dusting off imaginary lint, and calling for the bill.

...

"What are you thinking so deeply about?" Ji Qingyu’s thoughts were brought back to the dinner table. The surroundings were still lively.

He turned his head and noticed Fu Han staring at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed—an expression somewhere between helplessness and impatience.

Perhaps because Ji Qingyu had been distracted, Fu Han still put on a show in front of everyone, deigning to serve him some food. Coincidentally, it was a dumpling.

Ji Qingyu ate the dumpling. Fu Han added another, and this repeated several times. Ji Qingyu wanted to stop him, but Fu Han wasn’t even looking at him—just talking to others.

Ji Qingyu thought about tugging Fu Han’s sleeve under the table to remind him to stop, but the gesture felt too intimate. His hand hovered tentatively near Fu Han’s, not moving further. In the end, he forced himself to eat over a dozen dumplings.

A guest nearby, probably trying to flatter, remarked, "The madam has quite an appetite."

"Is that so." Fu Han seemed genuinely amused. He chuckled lightly, though the laugh carried a hint of mockery. His hand under the table suddenly reached over, gripping Ji Qingyu’s hand tightly, playing with it, squeezing again and again.

Ji Qingyu’s ears burned. He tried several times to pull his hand back, but Fu Han only held on tighter, interlocking their fingers until he couldn’t move.

Ji Qingyu lowered his head, unable to eat any more. Blushing and embarrassed, he set down his chopsticks. His palms were damp with cold sweat.

Author's Note: