Chapter 34

Chapter 34

"I'm pregnant." Six years ago, when Ji Qingyu first learned the news, the first person he told was Lin Ying.

Lin Ying was already in a vegetative state at the time. He held her hand—it was warm.

"But I might not be able to carry her to term. The doctor asked me to reconsider. I plan to go see Fu Han," Ji Qingyu said. "He wouldn’t be so heartless. This child is ours, Mom. I’m going to be a mother."

"You’ll wish me luck, won’t you?"

...

"I’m pregnant." The second person to learn of Ji Qingyu’s pregnancy six years ago was Fu Han.

It was a deeply unpleasant encounter, and from then on, Ji Qingyu never went to see Fu Han again.

After that, Ji Qingyu sold that brooch to cover Lin Ying’s medical expenses.

When he returned home, he found the water pipe broken. Rusty water had flooded the rental apartment, amid mold. It was late autumn, with no floor heating, and he was in debt.

Standing at the doorway, Ji Qingyu wondered—was this rental apartment like this when Lin Ying was around? Probably not, but he couldn’t remember clearly anymore.

It was his first time having a child, and he knew nothing. Fortunately, the child was very well-behaved, never crying or fussing. Sometimes, Ji Qingyu could hardly even feel her presence.

Until he could no longer manage working three jobs a day, no longer able to take on the fastest-paying manual labor. His income couldn’t cover his expenses, and soon he owed the landlord several months' rent.

Then, winter came. Lying awake in bed, he felt the cold—no heating, no food, no money. Yet, he still wanted to keep the child.

He forgot he was a permanently-bonded omega. In the depths of winter, he went into heat. The feverish tremors wracked his body, pushing him to the brink of collapse. His throat bled, his wrists were covered in scratches—he had never experienced such agony, wishing he could bash his head against the wall and end it all.

His sheltered, unreal life, protected by Lin Ying as if under a glass dome, had come to an end. He went to the hospital and, after repeated confirmations from the doctor, signed the papers. Then, he lost her.

Luo Sheng grabbed Ji Qingyu, shaking his shoulders gently. Luo Sheng’s hands steadied him. "Don’t rush. Calm down first. Come in and have a cup of hot tea."

Luo Sheng’s place was just as before—warm and tidy. His condition had improved significantly. Luo Sheng poured a steaming cup of lemon tea, adding a generous amount of honey, sweet and warm, then draped a blanket over Ji Qingyu.

"I’m pregnant, one month along," Ji Qingyu said. "Uncle, do you think I should tell Fu Han?"

Luo Sheng fell silent.

"Qingyu, you were planning to leave, weren’t you?"

Ji Qingyu lowered his head. Luo Sheng was right—he had intended to leave, but deep down, there was a faint reluctance.

"Perhaps you could give each other a chance," Luo Sheng said, holding Ji Qingyu’s hand. "I know there are many things Fu Han isn’t aware of, and you haven’t been able to tell him. But since there’s a child now, maybe you should try for the baby’s sake."

"Qingyu, you might think I’m being selfish, but Fu Han isn't a bad person. Often, he might just have absorbed bad habits and wrong ideas from being around his father for so long. I wasn’t there to watch him grow up—that’s my failing." Luo Sheng’s gaze held a hint of guilt. "I have no right to ask Fu Han to forgive me, just as he has no right to ask you to forgive him. But as a father, I selfishly hope you can give him a chance..."

"Of course, it’s all up to you."

Hearing this, Ji Qingyu’s anxiety lessened. He was still hesitant but leaned toward laying everything out clearly with Fu Han. He thought maybe Fu Han would be more merciful than Ji Ran, not using his vulnerabilities against him. Perhaps he should give them another chance.

It felt like a gamble, and he struggled to make up his mind.

After saying goodbye to Luo Sheng, he first called Ma Yu: "Brother Ma, let’s meet. I’ll give you a check to pass on to Ruan Jing. Tell her to leave when no one’s around. This money is enough to pay off the debts."

"Alright... Qingyu, is everything going smoothly?" Ma Yu asked with concern.

"Smoothly," Ji Qingyu replied with a bitter smile. Clutching the hem of his clothes, he hung up and lingered uncertainly, rehearsing his words several times at the villa entrance.

Just this once—give each other one more chance. He would tell Fu Han about the pregnancy. Try one more time, just one last time.

Ji Qingyu didn’t know if his decision was right or wrong.

His fingers stiffened, he pushed the door open. Strangely, the entire villa was unusually still today. Ji Qingyu took in the atmosphere, and Aunt Wang gestured him over cautiously.

"Mr. Fu's in a foul mood," Aunt Wang whispered.

"What happened?" Ji Qingyu asked softly.

"Not sure... Mr. Fu stayed alone in the guest bedroom for a long time. When he came out, he smashed a prized antique vase," Aunt Wang said. "Madam, better not go over. Be careful not to bear the brunt of his anger."

Ji Qingyu patted Aunt Wang’s hand and still walked in. Fu Han was sitting on the sofa, expressionless, two buttons of his shirt undone. The tattoo on his chest looked intimidating—it had faded with time, but the scars beneath were more prominent, never fully fading after all these years.

Fu Han didn’t speak, just sat there. Ji Qingyu took a deep breath and spoke first, though somehow the question that came out was: "Fu Han, how... how did you get the old scar on your chest?"

Fu Han didn’t answer, just beckoned him closer. Only then did Ji Qingyu notice the tattoo tools on the table. He looked at Fu Han, puzzled.

"The tattoo has faded. It needs to be touched up," Fu Han said, his eyes fixed on Ji Qingyu. "You do it."

"I have no experience. I don’t want to hurt you. The tattoo is so close to your heart—better to have a professional do it," Ji Qingyu suggested softly.

Fu Han grabbed Ji Qingyu’s wrist, his gaze deep and intense. Pulling Ji Qingyu closer, he made him kneel on his lap, forcing Ji Qingyu to steady himself by holding Fu Han’s shoulders. Staring at the sharp tools, Ji Qingyu steeled himself and said, "Fine, I’ll do it."

The tattooing process was long. Ji Qingyu was utterly inexperienced, so Fu Han guided him on how to handle the needle. Using the smallest needle, Ji Qingyu slowly worked black ink into Fu Han’s skin.

Fu Han’s muscles tensed, trembling continuously as sweat dripped down. After an hour, Ji Qingyu was the first to wear out. Gasping for breath, he paused, and Fu Han pulled Ji Qingyu’s head to his chest.

After taking a few sips of water, Ji Qingyu asked softly, "How did you get this scar?"

Fu Han lowered his gaze. "Years ago. When I was little, I tried to run away to find Luo Sheng. Fu Yunbai struck me with a red-hot iron."

Ji Qingyu looked up at Fu Han’s expressionless face. The alpha held him, his broad shoulders and solid muscles a stark contrast to his vulnerability. "Didn’t it hurt?" Ji Qingyu whispered.

"It doesn’t hurt anymore," Fu Han said, stroking Ji Qingyu’s hair, his tone inscrutable. "Keep going."

Ji Qingyu picked up the medium-gauge tattoo needle. His hands began to shake, but two-thirds of the work remained. Even though it was just recoloring, it was still daunting for him.

Fu Han breathed softly, his chin resting on Ji Qingyu’s shoulder, his breath warming the side of Ji Qingyu’s neck. Their skin pressed close, and with every needle prick, Ji Qingyu could feel Fu Han’s jaw tighten, sensing his endurance and pain. As if sensing Ji Qingyu’s nervousness, Fu Han gently stroked his back, calming him.

Fu Han was like a large carnivore. As Ji Qingyu worked over his heart, his unsteady hand drew blood. Fu Han grunted, gripping Ji Qingyu’s clothes tightly before sliding his hand down to Ji Qingyu’s waist and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Ji Qingyu picked up a sterilized warm towel to wipe away the blood. He began releasing a faint rain scent, trying to soothe the suffering alpha. Fu Han closed his eyes and leaned against Ji Qingyu.

It seemed to take forever—the closer to finishing, the more time it took. Ji Qingyu didn’t know how he endured it. His palms were sweaty, and Fu Han was practically molded against him.

Like a big cat, Fu Han wrapped his legs around Ji Qingyu, nibbling at the tip of his ear.

Ji Qingyu trembled.

Fu Han was mean—biting harder whenever Ji Qingyu worked the needle. The ear cartilage was fragile; after two bites, Ji Qingyu’s hands shook even more. So Fu Han bit his earlobe, this time with more force.

Even though Ji Qingyu was doing the tattooing, Fu Han seemed to hold the upper hand.

Near the end, Fu Han suddenly bit down with full force, his sharp canine sinking into Ji Qingyu’s earlobe. Pain lanced through him, and Ji Qingyu’s hand slipped, cutting another line into Fu Han’s skin.

Before he could react, Fu Han pushed the tattoo machine aside and held Ji Qingyu tightly.

The evening light filtered through the windows as the recoloring was finally completed. Ji Qingyu let Fu Han hold him for a while before pushing him away gently. "That’s enough. You’ve held me long enough. I still need to wipe it with alcohol—it might sting. Sorry for cutting you a few times. Also, there’s something I need to tell you."

Fu Han gripped the back of Ji Qingyu's head, his fingers tangling in Ji Qingyu's hair to keep him from pulling away, then lowered his head to kiss him.

Fu Han’s body was covered in sweat, and Ji Qingyu’s earlobe hurt. Realizing he couldn’t break free, Ji Qingyu simply gave in and let Fu Han continue. The tattoo of the fierce beast on his chest seemed more terrifying than ever, vivid and lifelike, as if it might leap out at any moment to claim a life. Majestic and flawless, it mirrored Fu Han perfectly.

“Fu Han… listen to me, I have something to tell you,” Ji Qingyu repeated.

If he had hesitated before the tattoo, now, exhausted and holding each other tightly, Ji Qingyu felt even more determined to have an honest conversation with Fu Han. He thought they should try again, give each other another chance.

But before he could speak, Fu Han placed a bottle of alcohol and a gauze pad in his hand. “Disinfect it first.”

“Alright… I’ll talk while I clean it…”

Fu Han looked down at Ji Qingyu as the omega was wiping his chest. Slowly, he pulled open a drawer and tossed out a familiar phone.

Fu Han said nothing. Ji Qingyu stared at the phone, and silence fell between them once more.

Fu Han unlocked the phone, revealing a gallery densely packed with important documents. Ji Qingyu remembered checking it earlier—there should have been nothing inside. His heart tightened as the alpha’s hand slowly held the nape of his neck. “I need an explanation.”

Ji Qingyu shut his mouth. Suddenly, he no longer wanted to say anything.