Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Fu Han seemed to have forgotten what he did last night. He woke up as if nothing had happened, took a few cold medicine pills, and returned to his usual unapproachable, arrogant demeanor. Ji Qingyu played along with the collective amnesia.

The doctor said it was due to excessive drinking and wild mood swings, adding that Fu Han had been overworking lately.

Ji Qingyu had no idea how exhausted Fu Han was, and Fu Han never shared such things with him.

The doctor gave many instructions, including reminders for family members like Ji Qingyu, but Fu Han paid no attention to his health and continued leaving early and returning late every day.

There wasn’t much Ji Qingyu could do. He was busy himself, working on writing songs.

Ji Qingyu's phone rang.

He picked it up and saw it was Nannan. Answering the call, a bright, cheerful voice came through: "Teacher, when are you coming? I’ve finished my homework—you need to check it!"

"I’ll be over tomorrow," Ji Qingyu said, thinking as he flipped through the script and new songs he had brought along. "Nannan, how’s your part coming along in the play?"

"I’ve been practicing really hard," Nannan replied.

"Good," Ji Qingyu said. "You’re on summer break now, right? If you’d like to give it a try, I can gather everyone together."

"Great!" Nannan’s voice was full of excitement, accompanied by cheers. Ji Qingyu couldn’t help but smile.

There were many performance venues in Jing City.

He contacted the cheapest one, which still cost him most of his savings from the past half-year. The hall was located on a small hill in the suburbs but was conveniently close to where the children lived.

Rehearsals began. The owner of the performance hall was a shrewd alpha. After negotiating with Ji Qingyu, he insisted that tickets must be sold within a month, saying if they didn’t earn back the ticket sales, the venue fee for the month would double.

Nannan took Ji Qingyu’s hand and said, "Teacher, don’t worry. We’re all here for you."

The theme of the play was a rock version of Grimm’s Fairy Tales. Ji Qingyu handled all the lyrics and music composition himself, while the children took on various roles.

The music part was something Ji Qingyu wrote little by little, which wasn’t too difficult for him, but the other aspects—stage design, props, everything else—were completely new to him and left him feeling overwhelmed.

He didn’t even dare bring these things home. Knowing Fu Han’s temperament, he would surely dismiss them as cheap, paper-thin trash.

Ji Qingyu became extremely busy. Some days, he stayed at the performance hall well past midnight, tinkering with stage designs and transitions, making revisions in his notebook over and over again.

He had been planning this play since he started working with Nannan and the other children. It wasn’t just about giving the kids a formal performance opportunity to gain experience—it was also for himself. He hoped to create more original work.

When doing something you love, you never feel tired.

By the time Ji Qingyu returned home, the entire house was dark. He moved quietly, not wanting to set Fu Han off, and collapsed onto the guest bed to sleep. Several days passed without him seeing Fu Han, which he found relieving.

Then one night, returning home, he noticed the light was on in the guest room.

Fu Han was sitting by the bed, with a stern expression.

Ji Qingyu checked his phone—it was already 3 a.m. Fu Han had left for a meeting early that morning, so why was he still awake at this hour?

Ji Qingyu gave a polite smile, leaning against the doorframe. Fu Han seemed to notice him only then, shifting his gaze from the book in his hands to Ji Qingyu and slowly raising an eyebrow.

"What are you standing there for?" Fu Han asked. "Come lie down."

"I don’t think that’s necessary," Ji Qingyu replied awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his limbs. Fu Han’s expression was hard to read in the dim light, his thin lips pressed together like a stone Buddha in the shadows.

"Are you... planning to sleep here? This bed is quite small—it might be a bit cramped," Ji Qingyu cautiously reminded him, his smile meant to placate him.

Fu Han didn't seem to understand what he meant, impatiently swept his hair back to reveal a smooth forehead, making his already sharp features appear even more pronounced. He lifted his chin slightly and said, "My house—do I need your permission to sleep wherever I want?"

"No, no need," Ji Qingyu replied. "Then you rest, I'll go to the main bedroom."

Fu Han's expression suggested a storm was brewing.

Fatigue made him particularly impatient. He casually tossed the book from his lap onto the bed, his posture relaxed but his gaze icy, he said, "Ji Qingyu, you've been coming home after midnight these past few days. Is this a hotel? You don't even say hello, just sleep and leave?"

"I'm not better yet, and you need rest too." Ji Qingyu didn’t know what was bothering Fu Han this time. He was also exhausted and didn’t want to argue, so he softened his tone, practically pleading. "I was afraid of disturbing you. Can we not do this tonight?"

"Why should I?" Fu Han let out a sigh. He was shirtless, and a fierce tattoo coiled over his muscles, seemingly alive, the fierce beast's eyes wide and glaring.

"I... already said, I’m not better."

"So what?"

"So I don't feel well, I can’t handle it. I... I’ll let you hug me, okay?" Ji Qingyu blushed with embarrassment as he tried to resist, genuinely worn out.

"What kind of deal is that? I could hold you right now if I wanted." Fu Han remained lounging lazily against the bedside, tilting his head curiously and speaking softly.

Ji Qingyu didn’t know what to do. He lowered his head slightly, his hair falling forward, his voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum. "Then... can I hold you?"

"What?" Fu Han raised an eyebrow, he said, "Hold who?"

Ji Qingyu’s voice grew even softer. He clasped his hands together, cursing Fu Han in his heart several times, though his words remained obedient. "Hold... husband."

Fu Han scoffed, looking at him with amusement. Unusually, he didn’t object. Under the light, he stared at Ji Qingyu for a long moment before turning off the lamp and rolling over, leaving a cold back.

Even for someone as thick-skinned as Ji Qingyu, saying such things was mortifying. He took off his clothes, changed into pajamas, and curled up on the bed like a hamster, knees drawn up, burrowing under the covers.

On the small bed, the two could only press closely together. He reached out and rested his hand on Fu Han’s waist.

The alpha’s body temperature was scorching.

Ji Qingyu thought this but was too exhausted, his eyelids heavy, and he uncontrollably drifted off to sleep. The faint scent of green plum, wrapped in a refreshingly cool aroma, eased the tension that had gripped Ji Qingyu for so long.

In his dream, someone was gently, rhythmically patting his back. He felt a cool sensation on the nape of his neck, and a soothing herbal fragrance lingered at the tip of his nose.

He slept through the night without waking. When the alarm rang, he slowly opened his eyes to find the space beside him empty.

Though reluctant to admit it, it was the best night’s sleep Ji Qingyu had had in a long time.

Fu Han had left again.

Ji Qingyu went to the performance hall as usual. Lately, there were no shows, and the hall was empty except for an uncle sitting in the seats watching them rehearse.

Nannan played the guitar several times, hitting the right notes, but once paired with dancing, mistakes started creeping in.

Sweat beaded on Ji Qingyu’s forehead too, though he didn’t show it outwardly. He continued encouraging, "Don’t rush, let’s try again. Take it slow."

As he crouched down, a sharp pain shot through his lower back, forcing him to stand at the sidelines to watch their rehearsal. Unconsciously, someone appeared beside him.

The uncle held a thermos cup, wearing thin-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Who choreographed the dance for these kids? It’s too difficult for children and doesn’t match the music well."

"I hired someone online," Ji Qingyu replied cautiously. "And you are...?"

"I’m the security here. The performance hall and the woods on the hill are under my care. I live on the back hill." The uncle adjusted his glasses and directed Nannan, "Little girl, stop dancing for a moment. Watch how I do it."

Ji Qingyu found it somewhat absurd, projecting his own concerns, worried the uncle might strain his old back. But then the man tied a red rope around his waist and actually struck a pose with some flair. He handed his thermos cup to Ji Qingyu. "The rest of you kids, stop playing around. Come over and watch."

"You, young man, you're quite good-looking, but why so dull? Go accompany me on piano." Ji Qingyu realized the uncle was calling him and immediately responded. He placed the thermos cup on the piano and perched lightly.

As the piece ended, Ji Qingyu was completely mesmerized. This man was definitely a trained professional—he almost felt like kneeling and begging him to be their dance instructor.

"You're a crouching tiger, hidden dragon! You're amazing—I couldn't take my eyes off you the whole time." Ji Qingyu poured on the compliments, saying whatever sounded good, and the uncle was clearly pleased, patting Ji Qingyu on the shoulder.

"In my youth, ahem, I was quite brilliant too," the uncle said. "Just call me Lin Feng."

"How brilliant?" Ji Qingyu probed.

"The star of the neighborhood committee's drama troupe," Lin Feng declared without modesty. "Teaching you rookies is more than enough."

"Young man, I see dark circles under your eyes, and you're so young yet already having back problems. You must be lacking exercise." Perhaps because Ji Qingyu had been so sweet-talking, Lin Feng showed extra concern.

Ji Qingyu gave a somewhat resigned smile.

With Uncle Lin Feng's help, today's rehearsal time was cut by a third. By the time the parents came to pick up their kids, it wasn't even dinnertime yet.

Nannan's mother was very busy with work and couldn't come early, and her father happened to be away on a business trip. After some thought, Ji Qingyu decided to end his extra practice session early and take Nannan to the mall for a bite to eat.

But before they could even board the bus, Fu Han's video call came in.

"Come home for dinner tonight. The lawyer will also be here to finalize your copyright issues." Fu Han looked somewhat tired, with his secretary beside him, head bowed, flipping through pages and handing him documents.

"I need to have dinner with my student. I might not make it back," Ji Qingyu said softly.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Fu Han also noticed the little girl holding Ji Qingyu's hand. Nannan looked at Fu Han and whispered to Ji Qingyu, "Wow, he's so handsome!"

"Bring her along to eat," Fu Han said. Just then, someone called out for "President Fu." His gaze swept over Ji Qingyu's face twice before he added, "Hanging up."

Ji Qingyu felt somewhat helpless. He crouched down, held Nannan's shoulders, and asked in a way that sought her opinion, "Nannan, would you like to go to Teacher Ji's home for dinner? If you feel uncomfortable, we can eat out instead. I'm fine with either."

"Let's go!" Nannan said excitedly. "Teacher Ji, your husband is so handsome! He's totally my ideal type!"

Ji Qingyu fell silent for a moment, thinking Nannan's taste in men needed work.

The journey home was much farther than the mall. Ji Qingyu called a car, and Nannan's eyes were wide open the whole ride. Seeing her like this, Ji Qingyu was already worried that if Fu Han ignored Nannan later, she might be left with childhood disappointment.

"Teacher Ji, I’ll tell you a secret—I’ve actually been following the recent online controversy," Nannan said, leaning close to Ji Qingyu. "They’ve been saying a lot of nasty things, but I know what kind of person you are. Don’t pay them any mind. Teacher Ji, if your husband really is involved with your brother… no matter how handsome he is… I… wouldn’t like him…"

After all, Nannan was just a fourth-grader, and her energy was fading. She slowly closed her eyes as the taxi bumped along.

Ji Qingyu lowered his shoulder to let Nannan's head rest in a comfortable position.

Outside the window, overlapping shadows of trees flashed by. The dim, dusky light made everything feel surreal. The long summer was at its midpoint, and the cicadas' chirping had weakened.

The car radio played entertainment news, the anchor's tone exaggerated: "Fu Han has been spotted multiple times in the VIP section at Ji Ran's concerts. Now, with the copyright dispute between them, making people wonder if Fu Han still can't forget Ji Ran."

Whether the driver recognized Ji Qingyu or not, he kept glancing at him through the rearview mirror. Ji Qingyu awkwardly avoided his gaze, his heart clenching as his thoughts, drawn back by the radio report, drifted back to the summer six years ago.

It had been just as oppressively hot back then, filling people with irritation and world-weariness.

Author's Note:

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