Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Ji Qingyu’s memory of Mingde’s autumn had grown hazy, retaining only the image of him and Fu Han walking along the shaded path behind the teaching building.

The wind rustled softly, and the maple trees blazed crimson. Leaves crunched faintly underfoot.

“Besides you, I haven’t been close to anyone else,” Ji Qingyu quickly explained, then, fearing he sounded too eager, simply tugged Fu Han’s hand.

“Is that so?” Fu Han chuckled, leaning in to pinch Ji Qingyu’s chin. “Then who was that alpha talking to you at the school gate today?”

“That’s my neighbor,” Ji Qingyu replied, retreating two steps before Fu Han pulled him back.

“Neighbor? Really?”

“You… how can you even say that to me? What about yourself?” Ji Qingyu finally blurted out after a long pause, attempting to remind Fu Han of something. His voice was half muffled by his scarf. Sunlight dappled the shaded path, leaves casting golden reflections on the ground.

“Me?” Fu Han laughed lightly. “Are you trying to control me?”

“I’m not…” Ji Qingyu’s rebuttal was faint, his lips pursed, looking as if he dared to be angry but not to speak.

Seeing Ji Qingyu’s reaction, Fu Han’s mood seemed to lighten. His beautiful, well-proportioned hand brushed against Ji Qingyu’s ear, his tone light and teasing. “How was the bento yesterday? Did you like it?”

“It was delicious, but school has already started. I can just eat at the cafeteria. There’s no need to trouble your family’s housekeeper—she works hard enough.” As Ji Qingyu spoke, some unpleasant associations surfaced in his mind, and his mood sank. He instinctively put a little distance between himself and Fu Han.

Strawberry parfaits one day, peach zabaglione the next, and always that large thermos of ginger tea, barley water, or sweet red bean paste. Every day, he felt he owed Fu Han a little more. He disliked being indebted to others.

The wind blew, scattering maple leaves across the ground. Fu Han was always a prominent figure. Even on this quiet, unassuming street, the few students who hurried past couldn’t help but glance at the two of them, some with looks of surprise and envy. Ji Qingyu felt uncomfortable, but Fu Han seemed long accustomed to such attention.

He smirked nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow. “Of course, my family’s housekeeper is very skilled. I had her teach…”

He paused abruptly, cutting himself off mid-sentence.

“Teach what?” Why did he stop talking halfway through? Ji Qingyu looked up at Fu Han, puzzled, squinting as the sunlight dazzled his eyes.

He didn’t know how he appeared in Fu Han’s eyes—a slender but well-proportioned figure, slightly curved eyes, pale lips, his whole being glowing warmly in the sun, his hair tinged with a thin layer of light chestnut.

His lips parted slightly, enough for an observant person to glimpse the pink shape of his tongue moving. Fu Han’s gaze fixed on Ji Qingyu for two seconds before he suddenly turned his face away and abruptly pulled Ji Qingyu’s scarf up over his mouth.

Ji Qingyu froze, standing there like a beautiful snowman suddenly blindfolded, instinctively reaching out to grab Fu Han’s hand. Only then did he notice the cute patterned bandage on Fu Han’s hand. “What’s this?” he asked softly.

“What’s what?” Fu Han frowned, following his gaze to the bandage, then laughed carelessly. “Oh, this? Just a little accident. What, are you worried about me?”

Ji Qingyu shook his head, dropping his hand, and walked on with his head down. “If I were to worry about you, I’d probably have to get in line.”

“What line?” Fu Han grabbed him, dissatisfied, his tone darkening. “Aren’t you even curious how I got hurt?”

Ji Qingyu roughly pulled his scarf down and continued walking sullenly.

“You probably got into another fight! After a fight, there’s always a crowd fussing over you. Why should I bother? Let them do the asking!” Ji Qingyu’s voice rose slightly as he turned to glare angrily at Fu Han, who only laughed in response.

He pulled the omega closer, his voice teasing and lazy, carrying a tone that was neither light nor heavy—somewhere between disdain and testing—languid and pleasant, vibrating in Ji Qingyu’s ears and making his heart beat faster. “I mean, you’re not jealous, are you?”

Before Ji Qingyu could respond, someone called out to Fu Han from behind. It was a lavishly dressed omega with a delicate, pretty face and an air of arrogance—the same one who had kissed Fu Han’s cheek at the bar.

He didn’t even glance at Ji Qingyu, simply tossed Fu Han a set of keys with a bright smile, cheeks flushed, mentioning the name of a restaurant, then waving breezily. In a tone as sweet as an expensive liqueur-filled dessert, he shyly said, “See you later.”

Fu Han caught the keys with practiced ease. Still holding Ji Qingyu’s arm, he acknowledged it casually before turning back to Ji Qingyu, only to find the smile had vanished from his face.

The warm atmosphere between them instantly dissolved into silence. Fu Han opened his mouth to say something, but another interruption cut him off.

“Brother, what are you doing here? P.E. class is about to start. I was wondering why I didn’t see you with your class.” Ji Ran appeared out of nowhere, linking arms with Ji Qingyu. “Come on, we’ll be late.”

Ji Qingyu let himself be pulled along like a puppet, still holding the bento Fu Han had shoved into his hands.

Fu Han didn’t stop him.

“Wow, that’s a nice bento box,” Ji Ran nodded in Fu Han’s direction, a hint of teasing laughter in his voice. “What’s wrong? You seem upset. Something on your mind?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Ji Qingyu snapped out of it. “He had an extra one and gave it to me.”

“So, that omega just now—how many is that this month? Have you been counting?” Ji Ran’s voice drew closer, sounding almost intimate, like a younger brother urgently trying to steer Ji Qingyu back to reason.

“It’s none of my business,” Ji Qingyu said flatly. “Let’s go, isn’t class starting?”

They walked along the shaded path toward the sports field. After a pause, Ji Ran spoke again.

“Brother, don’t feel bad… If you like bento, I can bring you some too. It’s just asking the housekeeper, right? It’s not like Fu Han made it himself.” He patted Ji Qingyu’s back and pulled a piece of candy from his pocket, handing it to him.

“Yeah, of course not,” Ji Qingyu lowered his head further, his gaze fixed on the weeds by the path—so inconspicuous. Maybe this was how Fu Han and his circle saw him too. He pushed the unrealistic thought from his mind.

Sure enough, there was no sound from behind. Ji Qingyu resisted the urge to look back. A long moment later, the sound of Fu Han laughing and flirting with the omega reached his ears. Of course—someone like Fu Han always had others revolving around him. Why would he ever speak softly or yield to anyone?

Hadn’t he, too, been hooked with just a beckon and a tease?

The old days faded like shifting light, leaving only indelible afterimages. Ji Qingyu only remembered that the bento that day had been delicious, kept warm in its container. When he opened it, it was omurice, with “I Love You” sloppily written in ketchup—so poorly done that he only realized what it said after finishing the meal. He thought Fu Han’s housekeeper was quite creative.

One bizarre dream followed another. When Ji Qingyu woke, his throat was painfully dry. The hospital room was dim, only the small nightlight by the bed casting a faint glow. The curtains were drawn, making it impossible to tell if it was day or night. He cleared his throat and turned to see a familiar face watching over him.

Though he was the one who’d been ill, Fu Han looked even more haggard, dark circles spreading under his eyes, his handsome, aloof face shrouded in worry.

Fu Han was leaning by the bed, eyes closed, asleep with his face turned toward Ji Qingyu’s side. The position looked uncomfortable, so Ji Qingyu tilted his head awkwardly to look at him.

Why did such a tall, imposing, and arrogant person now seem so vulnerable? It felt unreal. He reached out to touch Fu Han’s nose bridge, but before he could, the man stirred as if sensing it, his eyelids flickering.

Ji Qingyu quickly shut his eyes, instinctively pretending to still be asleep.

A faint rustling sound reached his ears, followed by a warm, intense breath. Someone kissed his cheek lightly. A hand smoothed his stray hairs back, then slid down, stubbornly intertwining fingers with his.

A pleasant voice, deep and resonant like a cello, wrapped in helplessness, spoke.

“It’s been almost three days. Are you going to wake up or not? I made a lot of your favorite food. If you don’t wake up soon, I’ll throw it all away.” The voice was low and hoarse, cold, yet the hand holding his tightened, refusing to let go.

Eyes still closed, Ji Qingyu suddenly thought of the “I Love You” on the bento, a strange and absurd idea popping into his head—what if Fu Han had gone to the bar back then specifically to hear him sing, and had made those bentos just for him?

Impossible.

His thoughts were chaotic, drifting to other things. The room fell silent again, and he could almost feel the other’s intense gaze resting on his face.

After a moment, his hand was lifted and pressed against someone’s skin. The icy arrogance had melted away, the voice softer than any red bean paste Ji Qingyu had ever tasted, as if wrapped in a layer of cloying sweetness, revealing a side of him never usually seen.

The heart rate monitor by the bed fluctuated erratically, jumping and soaring, nearly crossing the warning line. Ji Qingyu thought Fu Han had realized he was pretending to sleep, but the next second, someone pressed their face against his hand, rubbing against it childishly.

That beautiful voice, now tinged with grievance, heavy and muffled, fading into the dimness, made Ji Qingyu’s heart clench: “I was lying. From now on, I’ll make whatever you want to eat. So I’m begging you, please wake up soon, okay?”