Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Luo Sheng agreed quickly.

"Xiao Yu, are you well enough? In a few months, you'll be having the baby, won't you?"

The due date was in late spring or early summer, and the performance would only take place after that. Ji Qingyu assured him it wouldn't be an issue, and Luo Sheng breathed a sigh of relief.

Ji Qingyu then discussed the details with him at length.

They talked for so long that they lost track of time, and the sky had already darkened. Since it was so quiet outside, Ji Qingyu almost forgot that Fu Han was still there. It wasn't until he stood up and stretched that the realization suddenly hit him.

He pushed the door open and walked out of the bedroom. The living room was eerily quiet, as if no one was there.

Ji Qingyu was a little surprised. Looking from the doorway, he saw Fu Han slumped on the sofa, his face cold. Ji Qingyu looked closer and noticed Fu Han was clutching one of his own clothes.

"Fu Han, are you a pervert?" Ji Qingyu grabbed a clothes hanger from the balcony and poked him with it. "Give me back my clothes."

Fu Han's hand gripped the garment tightly, refusing to let go. With a hint of grievance in his eyes, he murmured, "You won't even give me your clothes."

Fu Han swatted the hanger away and abruptly pulled Ji Qingyu toward him. His teeth brushed against Ji Qingyu's neck, a fierce and brooding grip, yet in the end, he merely buried his head in Ji Qingyu's neck and sighed.

Ji Qingyu shivered, trying to push him away but finding himself unable. Only then did he realize that Fu Han's condition seemed truly abnormal—he was cold all over.

He touched Fu Han's forehead and found it covered in fine beads of sweat. Fu Han was burning up, yet the hand gripping Ji Qingyu's waist tightened even further, emitting a dangerous low growl.

His fingers pressed hard against Ji Qingyu's scent gland, and Ji Qingyu trembled twice, his waist going soft.

Ji Qingyu felt like a helpless piece of tender meat, utterly powerless before an alpha in rut. He tried to escape, but after taking just two steps, Fu Han's hand clamped onto Ji Qingyu's thigh, yanking him back.

The scent of green plum, laden with intense desire, spread out overwhelmingly.

"I just need some time to rest, to think things through. Don't always cling to me like this," Ji Qingyu said, trying to pull the other off him.

Fu Han held on even tighter. His body was still too cold, and his eyes looked as if they were melting. He gazed up at Ji Qingyu with a wronged expression. It was dark, and Ji Qingyu could only make out Fu Han's eyebrows and eyes, so handsome it was disorienting.

Ji Qingyu hesitated for a few seconds, then relaxed completely and stopped struggling, letting Fu Han hold him.

It wasn't until more than ten minutes later that Fu Han finally let go.

"Are you done holding me?" Ji Qingyu patted his back and asked in a calm voice.

It seemed to be snowing outside, and Fu Han felt cold. "What exactly do you want? You know I can't leave you, so you treat me like this, don't you?"

Ji Qingyu was speechless. The green plum scent in the air was still strong, and he began to feel uncomfortable too. His body craved the other, but his words remained devoid of warmth: "Don't always be so suspicious."

"Then will you forgive me? When will you forgive me?" Fu Han repeated the question tirelessly, as if he would never grow weary of it. Ji Qingyu sighed.

"Did you make something? It smells good," Ji Qingyu changed the subject, slowly looking toward the kitchen. Something seemed to be cooking in the pot.

"Taro milk tea," Fu Han pursed his lips, took Ji Qingyu's hand, licked the back of his neck, and began to knead his body restlessly. Ji Qingyu pushed him away, and Fu Han started again: "I feel terrible."

"If you're feeling bad, you can go find someone else," Ji Qingyu said, his voice softening as it spread near Fu Han's ear.

"Who the hell else can I find? I have no one else. I only have you," Fu Han said. "I spent the whole afternoon figuring out how to make milk tea, and I was afraid of disturbing your work. And you still doubt me."

"But..." Ji Qingyu seemed about to say something.

"No, it's only you. Who else could I possibly want? Fine, just mess with me, go ahead and mess with me," Fu Han held Ji Qingyu, pressing him entirely into his embrace.

Ji Qingyu's nostrils filled with the scent of green plum. He couldn't stand this about Fu Han—how his pheromones became unstable with the slightest emotional fluctuation. Now that his scent gland had healed, he couldn't remain unaffected anymore. He truly hated the emotional turbulence between alphas and omegas.

He symbolically patted Fu Han's back and sighed again, his body releasing a damp, rain-like scent with a soothing quality.

He closed his eyes and asked softly, "Does this make you feel better?"

"This is just like you—be a little nice to me, then push me away. When I'm suffering, you give me a little pity. Am I a dog that you're leading around like this?" Fu Han complained again.

"I... I didn't mean it that way," Ji Qingyu said, guiltily stroking Fu Han's hair and letting out a breath.

"Then lead me around. Go ahead, use all your tricks on me. Just don't go looking for anyone else. Keep leading me around until you've vented all your anger," Fu Han buried his head in Ji Qingyu's chest.

Fu Han's pheromones wrapped around Ji Qingyu, making him feel somewhat comforted. Besides the sadness, the alpha's pheromones also carried a strong soothing quality. Ji Qingyu felt relaxed and unconsciously fell asleep in Fu Han's arms.

When he woke up, he felt sore all over. Fu Han was holding him, maintaining a stiff pose, head bowed on the sofa, also resting.

Ji Qingyu noticed that Fu Han looked pale. He reached out to touch him—Fu Han's face was finally not so cold. He tried releasing a higher concentration of pheromones, and Fu Han's tightly furrowed brow gradually relaxed.

The phone beside them had been set to silent by Fu Han, with over a dozen missed calls. Ji Qingyu patted him, stiffly stood up, and wondered if Fu Han had done something while he was asleep.

"Get up. Your taro milk tea must have boiled away, right?" Ji Qingyu asked slowly. "Sleeping with the stove on—what if we both die here?"

Fu Han took a moment to fully wake up. "I didn't... I was too tired. It won't happen again."

"You always say 'it won't happen again' for everything," Ji Qingyu smiled, went to the kitchen, and poured the milk tea from the pot. The lid was on, and about a third was left. Luckily, it hadn't burned.

Fu Han watched from behind, wrapping his arms around Ji Qingyu from the back, resting his chin on Ji Qingyu's shoulder, holding him entirely in his embrace. His voice carried the heavy nasal tone of someone who had just woken up: "I mean it. I've never failed to keep a promise I made. It really won't happen again."

"Alright," Ji Qingyu said, scooping out the remaining milk tea. Fu Han mashed the steamed taro that had been set aside, but Ji Qingyu had no intention of drinking it. Instead, he handed the milk tea to Fu Han and pushed him out.

Fu Han looked at Ji Qingyu, puzzled.

"Your milk tea—you deal with it yourself," Ji Qingyu said, starting to close the door. He suddenly remembered that the venue matter hadn't been settled yet. He probably still had work to do, and if Fu Han stayed, he would just cling to him and cause delays.

"I spent all day making this," Fu Han said. "Ji Qingyu, I feel like I'm trying to win you over all over again. You're so hard to chase."

"Did you ever chase me?" Ji Qingyu asked curiously, tilting his head. His hair fell down—it had grown longer, making him look more unkempt and somewhat dazed. Fu Han reached out and touched it, the hair spreading through his fingers.

"Just drink a little," Fu Han tried to push the milk tea back into Ji Qingyu's hands, but Ji Qingyu shook his head and closed the door.

Aside from Luo Sheng, he also called Yu Yue and Nannan, and specifically notified Ma Yu, inviting him to come watch their performance. Sure enough, the theater manager had called him an hour ago and left a voice message asking him to come over, but he hadn't noticed.

He immediately called back, and the other said he was about to go on a business trip out of town but could meet at the theater in two hours. So Ji Qingyu hurriedly grabbed his coat and headed out.

The bedroom was quiet and somewhat cold. Ji Qingyu looked out the window and noticed that Fu Han's car was still parked in the same spot.

As if it would never leave, always staying there.

Ji Qingyu watched for a while. He was wearing a cotton coat thrown on haphazardly—the heating hadn't been turned on yet at home, so even indoors, he had to dress warmly.

He gathered his things, went out, and walked downstairs. He saw Fu Han smoking again, leaning against the car, looking lonely and handsome. The tips of his fingers glowed faintly red, and as the wind blew, his features seemed to melt into the night.

"You should go. I need to go out. If you stay here all the time, what about your company's matters?" Ji Qingyu couldn't avoid him—Fu Han was already walking toward him.

Fu Han picked Ji Qingyu up and placed him in the car.

"Where are you going? I'll take you. Otherwise, don't even think about getting out of this alley."

Ji Qingyu paused, then turned his head and said, "The theater at Tianwen Mountain."

Fu Han was momentarily stunned, not expecting him to actually say a place name. It took him a while to process it before he let out a dazed "oh" and started the car.

Halfway through the journey, Ji Qingyu took out a worn-out thermos from his bag and handed it to Fu Han. "It's so cold today. Have some warm water. Tomorrow... don't come by tomorrow."

"You only brought me water, not even any ginger tea," Fu Han muttered under his breath.

The car fell silent again. As expected, the traffic was congested—Beijing's roads were as terrible as ever. Fu Han irritably honked the horn several times until Ji Qingyu turned on the radio, which finally calmed him down.

When getting out of the car, Fu Han wrapped his own scarf around Ji Qingyu. Ji Qingyu noticed his cold hands and said, "Remember to drink the water."

With that, Ji Qingyu got out of the car.

A few honks sounded from behind. Ji Qingyu turned to look. In the cold night, the streetlights illuminated Fu Han like a pale, distant snowman. Fu Han leaned against the window, his face slightly turned toward Ji Qingyu, his eyes filled with deep, unmistakable longing.

"I've been thinking of many names for the child—Le, An, Ning. Which one do you think is best?"

"I don't know. I only write songs, not how to name people."

"Then why don't you choose one from the names I suggested?"

"We'll talk about it later." Ji Qingyu adjusted the scarf snugly. It seemed he knew Fu Han wouldn't leave, so he didn't say anything more about not waiting for me. Alone, he walked into the theater.