Chapter 46

Chapter 46

The word "brother" made Ji Qingyu's heart clench.

Fu Han could be overbearing at times, often forgetting that the person before him was actually younger.

"Alright." He hesitated for two seconds before pushing Fu Han away, ultimately accepting his suggestion. He, too, wanted to give birth to this child healthily.

Truth be told, beyond his gland, Ji Qingyu had numerous other health issues. This time, Fu Han was remarkably considerate, and Ji Qingyu only ever saw him at the hospital.

Gradually, Ji Qingyu's resistance to Fu Han lessened. He could exchange a few words with him. Fu Han would always wait for him to finish his check-ups, then try to hold his hand. After being swatted away, he would quietly follow Ji Qingyu and drive him home.

Even with this distance, it wasn't unbearable. The atmosphere between them was icy. Previously, Fu Han would deliberately make small talk in the car, but now, even when he spoke softly, Ji Qingyu ignored him.

The omega would simply lean against the car window, staring outside.

After another check-up, Ji Qingyu pushed open the examination room door but didn’t see Fu Han, even though the man had just been waiting outside, chattering one-sidedly about recent work events.

Wrapped in his cashmere coat, Ji Qingyu stood alone in the hospital lobby, exhaling softly as he glanced around. The floor was nearly empty—likely cleared by Fu Han.

Ji Qingyu still wore a medical ID bracelet. Over the past days, he had frequently undergone scans in large machines. Those rooms were sterile and cold. Lying flat on the examination table, being pushed into the equipment, he could only stare blankly into the dark, narrow space.

Time stretched endlessly. He was afraid—afraid he might not live to see this child, afraid he might lose his life because of it.

He was somewhat afraid of death, and even more afraid of pain.

Fu Han had always waited for him outside before. Ji Qingyu searched around but saw no sign of him until he reached the end of the corridor, pushed open the last door, and peered through the crack. Behind a half-drawn curtain, Fu Han sat on a medical bed covered with a blue disposable sheet, his entire upper body exposed.

A doctor was attempting to extract something from his gland.

His tattoo looked particularly intimidating in that moment. Truth be told, Ji Qingyu was so familiar with that tattoo he could trace its shape from memory—after all, he had been the one to fill in the colors stroke by stroke.

The ferocious patterns of the beast made Fu Han appear terrifying. His face showed no expression, but sweat beaded on his forehead, veins bulging, as if he were in great pain.

It made sense—an alpha’s gland was far more sensitive than an omega’s, inherently resistant to foreign intrusion. Ji Qingyu watched through the crack as the doctor took out a sharper instrument, a long, thin needle, and handed Fu Han a gauze pad.

"Bite down," the doctor instructed. Fu Han obediently put the gauze in his mouth. The doctor then signaled two assistants to hold the alpha down, aiming the needle at his gland.

Fu Han said nothing, but as the instrument entered his body, he began to struggle instinctively. It must have been excruciating—he knocked over nearby equipment, and blood seeped from the back of his neck.

Like a wild beast, even two people together couldn’t restrain him. He slammed into a cabinet, then sat back down, gripping the edge of the bed tightly, and stopped moving.

The scent of green plum turned bitter, wafting over and tightening around Ji Qingyu’s senses. Ji Qingyu’s hand on the doorframe trembled.

"Hold him down!" the doctor shouted. His hands were steady, and the process of collecting the pheromones ended quickly. Fu Han’s arm muscles were taut, his chest heaving. It took him a long time to spit out the gauze, his whole body going limp.

Even then, he managed to speak, his voice hoarse and flat: "Is it enough? I might be away for over ten days. Better to store more."

"It’s enough, President Fu. If you hadn’t offered so much, I wouldn’t dare do this. You know how dangerous it is to extract pheromones from an alpha’s gland, let alone through live extraction..." The doctor grumbled, frowning deeply.

Fu Han laughed at that, his gaze unfocused as it drifted into the air. "Tell me, if an omega was permanently marked for six years but never received their partner’s pheromones for comfort, how much pain would they be in?"

"That omega’s partner must be a bastard," the doctor said, placing the extracted pheromones into a freezing chamber before disinfecting Fu Han’s wound and applying a pain-relief patch.

"Yeah," Fu Han replied with a sarcastic smile, his fingers trembling slightly. His voice grew low, shadows falling over his eyes as he sighed softly, like a petrified statue. "He must be an utterly despicable bastard."

Ji Qingyu stared blankly, quickly recognizing the neatly arranged extraction vials. Those capsule-like bottles contained the liquid the doctor used each time to soothe his sensitive, collapsing gland.

Drilling a probe directly into the gland must have been agonizing. How could it not be? Ji Qingyu silently retreated, walking slowly down the corridor to the hospital lobby.

He didn’t know what to feel. What was Fu Han trying to achieve? Did he want to atone for his sins this way? Truthfully, Ji Qingyu didn’t want him to do such things. He didn’t want Fu Han trying to repay him like this.

"Why are you still here?" About half an hour later, Fu Han emerged, stopping in front of Ji Qingyu. His collar was high, and he wore a mouth guard, his voice steady. "Let me take you back."

"No need," Ji Qingyu said, trying to glance at the back of Fu Han’s neck. Only the edge of a bandage peeked above the collar. Noticing Ji Qingyu’s gaze, Fu Han subtly pulled his clothes higher.

Ji Qingyu frowned, his tone serious. "You... do you know how fragile glands are? You can’t just recklessly tamper with them."

"I know. That’s why you need to get better quickly. At least... let me make it up to you a little," Fu Han said. "I know you don’t want to see me. I’ll leave as soon as I drop you off."

Ji Qingyu was speechless. Despite struggling so violently earlier, Fu Han now appeared completely unaffected—walking steadily, his expression as casual as ever, even making small talk. As they walked, he reached out to interlace his fingers with Ji Qingyu’s.

Ji Qingyu shuddered. Hesitation cost him the chance to push Fu Han away, and his hand was grasped firmly.

The driver was waiting downstairs. The two sat in the car in silence.

"Ji Ran has been detained, but the evidence is insufficient. He might be released, and there will be a lawsuit later. I need to go back for a while," Fu Han said. "While I’m away, please don’t disappear again, okay?"

Fu Han now spoke to Ji Qingyu with noticeably less authority. Even after all this time, Ji Qingyu still wasn’t quite used to it.

"I have work. Where would I go?" Ji Qingyu avoided looking at Fu Han, finally replying after a long pause.

Just that one sentence made the corners of Fu Han’s lips curl upward. At eighteen, Fu Han had also been easily pleased and clingy. Later, he became cold and distant. Ji Qingyu watched Fu Han’s smile, overlapping it with the memory of that younger figure. He stared for a few seconds before looking away.

The car slowly stopped in front of the rental home. Fu Han leaned in close, and Ji Qingyu reflexively slapped him—a sharp crack. The driver in the front seat flinched but pretended not to hear. Ji Qingyu’s hand was seized by Fu Han, who turned his face and teasingly licked his palm.

Ji Qingyu’s eyes widened. Cursing inwardly, he fumbled for the door like a startled rabbit, jumping out the moment the driver unlocked it.

He rushed back to his room, splashing cold water on his face, his chest heaving. It took a long time for him to calm down.

Fu Han was indeed gone for a long time—about ten days or so. Ji Qingyu’s life returned to its simple routine of home and work.

Scrolling through Weibo, he saw that Ji Ran’s endorsements and business deals were collapsing amid scandal. Fu Han was determined to ruin him, refusing to let go. He was like a spider, relentlessly ensnaring his prey, unwilling to stop until the other was destroyed.

While browsing his phone, Ji Qingyu stumbled upon a fan forum dedicated to him, praising his music. His eyes widened as he read the compliments—he had never received so much praise before.

The stage play rehearsals were finally wrapping up. One evening, after work, Ji Qingyu headed home when Fu Han suddenly reappeared. This time, they didn’t meet at the hospital—Fu Han was waiting directly outside his door. The moment he saw Ji Qingyu, he tried to rush forward, looking exhausted from travel.

Caught off guard, Ji Qingyu was pulled into a tight embrace. Fu Han held him as if inhaling an addictive drug. Ji Qingyu shuddered and pushed him away forcefully.

"Can I come in? I brought you a lot of things," Fu Han said. "Brother, I brought you a new guitar."

"I don’t need a guitar," Ji Qingyu replied, his heart trembling. He steeled himself, refusing to let Fu Han in, and slammed the door shut.

For once, Fu Han behaved himself and didn’t knock again.

The next day brought clear weather. When Ji Qingyu left for work, carrying his thermos of goji berry tea, he bumped into something heavy outside his door. Fu Han, wrapped in his black coat, had stretched his long legs and leaned against the iron gate of Ji Qingyu’s courtyard.

His hands were red from the cold, his entire face flushed—especially the corners of his eyes and his ears. Seeing Ji Qingyu, he turned and offered a smile, boyish and pitiful, his voice hoarse: "Good morning."

Ji Qingyu stared in disbelief, his hands trembling so much he nearly dropped his thermos.

He hurriedly helped Fu Han inside, poured him a glass of warm water, and went to find a thermometer.

Afraid that Fu Han might actually fall ill and blame him, from then on, Ji Qingyu left the spot outside his door for Fu Han...

No one knew why Fu Han’s car, parked outside Ji Qingyu’s door the previous night, had mysteriously driven away. No one understood why, with so many hotels available, Fu Han insisted on waiting outside Ji Qingyu’s home.

Later, the stage play rehearsals finally concluded, and tickets went on sale, selling out entirely. Fu Han attended the celebratory banquet as an investor. Surprisingly, he had slept at Ji Qingyu’s home the night before, and the two arrived together the next day. Ji Qingyu didn’t know how to explain it to Yu Yue.

When Yu Yue saw them arrive one after the other, she was furious. She glared at Ji Qingyu with disappointment and began making sarcastic remarks aimed at Fu Han. Fu Han ignored her, silently watching Ji Qingyu instead. Unnerved by the stare, Ji Qingyu pretended not to notice and followed Yu Yue’s lead in ignoring him.

"Stop this, Fu Han," Ji Qingyu echoed Yu Yue. "This won’t change anything."

Fu Han didn’t respond, only letting out a soft, playful exhale that sounded almost like a laugh. Puzzled, Ji Qingyu glanced at him, but Fu Han maintained his innocent expression. Suddenly, Ji Qingyu felt something was off.

It took him a moment to realize what it was—something strange. When had Fu Han once again become such a pervasive presence in his life?