Distorted Fairy Tale - Chapter 11

“Are you alright?”

Song Zhen’s worried voice pulled Ji Qinglin’s stray soul back into his body. He stared blankly at Song Zhen for a long moment before finally recovering his senses.

“I’m fine,” Ji Qinglin said with a smile, though his face was deathly pale and the expression was forced.

Song Zhen didn’t think he looked fine at all. Frowning, he said, “You look terrible. Should we go to the hospital and have you checked out?”

“I’m really okay,” Ji Qinglin smiled again. “Ge, you go ahead. I have some things to take care of in a bit.”

The worry didn’t fade from Song Zhen’s eyes. He insisted, “You should still go to the hospital. I’ll go with you.” He reached out to lead Ji Qinglin away.

“Ge, honestly, there’s no need.” Ji Qinglin grinned, and this time the smile looked much more natural. “I just got caught in a lie and I’m feeling guilty, that’s all.” He slipped back into his usual playful demeanor.

“Well, alright then.” Song Zhen finally felt somewhat relieved. “But you looked so pale just now. If you feel unwell, you must see a doctor.”

“Okay, okay, Ge. You’re pregnant, stop worrying so much!” Ji Qinglin nudged Song Zhen toward the exit, arranging for someone to drive him home.

As soon as Song Zhen was gone, Ji Qinglin pulled out his phone and called his assistant, Xiao Chen.

“Are there any jobs that require me to leave City A recently? Anything will do. Book one for me, preferably for tonight.”

“Oh, Brother Lin, you don’t have any jobs scheduled right now. You just finished filming; take a couple of days to rest!”

Ji Qinglin: “…” Damn it.

Well, there was no escaping it tonight.

Ji Qinglin went to bed very early that night, foolishly believing he could hide from fate. But when he was kissed awake in the middle of the night, he knew sleep was over.

“Don’t leave marks on my neck,” Ji Qinglin said, turning his head as his pajama buttons were being undone. “I have to work tomorrow.”

Ji Xiuyuan’s hand paused. He tossed the pajamas aside, his fingers tracing a path over Ji Qinglin’s pale chest, moving from his defined abs to his firm pectorals. His gaze darkened as he gripped Ji Qinglin’s chin. “Liar.”

“Trying to book a job to leave City A? What, don’t want to see me?” Ji Xiuyuan let out a cold laugh.

“You’re tapping my phone again!” Ji Qinglin realized instantly. He turned his face away, glaring at Ji Xiuyuan.

He had just bought that phone!

“Ji Qinglin, you’re becoming less and less obedient.” Ji Xiuyuan unbuckled his leather belt, bound Ji Qinglin’s hands together, and pulled it tight.

Ji Qinglin winced in pain.

Ji Xiuyuan leaned down and whispered into his ear, “Disobedient children need to be punished.”

When Ji Xiuyuan took off his glasses, Ji Qinglin flinched instinctively. He knew all too well what it meant when those glasses came off.

A rustling sound filled the room, followed by deep, heavy movements. In the thick of the night, the only light came from the moon filtering through the window, faintly illuminating the two tangled bodies on the large bed.

When Song Zhen emerged from the shower, Fu Yuting was just pushing open the bedroom door. He had only just returned home.

Their eyes met, and Song Zhen was the first to look away.

Fu Yuting strode across the room. As the Alpha approached, Song Zhen backed away until his spine hit the wall.

The bedroom light was blocked by the Alpha’s large frame, leaving Song Zhen trapped in the shadow between Fu Yuting and the wall.

Having just bathed, Song Zhen carried a slight dampness. His hair hung softly, and in his white cotton pajamas, he looked quite young. He smelled faintly of jasmine body wash.

Fu Yuting looked him up and down. The Beta’s face was as white as cold jade; because of the pregnancy, his skin looked like fine mutton-fat jade—delicate and slightly supple.

The Beta glanced up at him, his pupils as dark as ink, before quickly and uncomfortably averting his gaze, instinctively biting his red, full lip.

Fu Yuting tilted Song Zhen’s chin up, forcing him into eye contact. He studied the face closely.

Even though he was a Beta without pheromones, this face alone was enough to stir the desires of many Alphas.

“Tell me,” Fu Yuting said, his voice like ice as his grip tightened on Song Zhen’s chin. “How did you hook up with Ji Qinglin?”

“Was it with this face?” His gaze dropped. “Or this body?”

“What are you talking about?” Song Zhen frowned. It felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him, leaving him chilled to the bone.

“What am I talking about?” Fu Yuting sneered. His grip tightened further, making Song Zhen gasp in pain.

“Ji Qinglin is just a bastard… No, he isn’t even considered a member of the Ji family. You think climbing onto him is going to end well for you?”

“Believe me, if I weren’t here, Ji Xiuyuan would ruin you,” Fu Yuting hissed. “I’m warning you, stay away from Ji Qinglin. He isn’t someone you should provoke.”

“I wondered why you suddenly brought up divorce. Turns out you’ve already found a new place to land.” Fu Yuting’s eyes were terrifyingly dark, his tone a mix of mockery and pure rage. “You low-lifes from the slums really are cheap—”

Slap!

Fu Yuting’s face snapped to the side. He could even smell the scent of jasmine lingering from Song Zhen’s hand.

Song Zhen shoved him away. “Bastard!”

“Fu Yuting, you total bastard!” Song Zhen’s eyes were watery, his small face flushed with anger. “I don’t want to see you ever again! I hate you!”

Song Zhen turned and marched toward the door. But as he pulled it open, his vision suddenly went black. After a momentary bout of dizziness, the world spun, and he collapsed.

…

Song Zhen dreamed of the day he celebrated his birthday in the rented apartment.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t his actual birthday. As an orphan, no one knew exactly when he was born.

He chose that day because it was the day he had been adopted.

At five years old, Song Zhen had been adopted by a couple who couldn’t have children.

But he only experienced that love for one short year. In the second year at his new home, his “infertile” adoptive mother suddenly became pregnant.

With a biological child on the way, the adopted son became redundant. His parents showered their biological son with affection while growing increasingly cold toward Song Zhen.

They wanted to return him to the orphanage, but since he was already eight, they needed his consent to dissolve the adoption. Song Zhen had cried and begged to stay, and eventually, they let him.

From then on, he was incredibly well-behaved. He did everything they asked without complaint. At eight years old, he began cooking for the family, doing laundry, washing dishes, cleaning, and looking after his younger brother.

Song Zhen just wanted his parents to like him a little bit.

He was terrified of being abandoned. That fear had been buried deep in his heart since childhood, occasionally resurfacing to prick at his soul.

Song Zhen had once wondered why he fell for Song Heng.

Later, he realized the answer.

For someone like him, who had always been ignored by the world and mistreated by fate, finding someone who couldn’t survive without him was a form of solace.

To be seen. To be needed.

That was what a person living on the fringes of society craved most.

On Song Zhen’s birthday, Song Heng had baked a cake by hand. It wasn’t perfect, but Song Zhen loved it.

It was the first birthday cake he had ever eaten.

Song Heng had also used a whole month’s wages from moving freight to buy Song Zhen a white jacket—he even gave Song Zhen his bank card.

He had said then: “Gege, happy birthday. I hope you’re happy every single day.”

Song Heng’s eyes had shone like the stars in the sky—bright and brilliant.

That was the first time Song Zhen had ever celebrated a birthday.

The children in the orphanage didn’t have birthdays, and after moving to his adoptive home, no one remembered such a small thing.

The cake was delicious. Looking into Song Heng’s sparkling eyes, Song Zhen thought that this man was the greatest gift heaven could have given him.

“Heng-heng, do you want to stay with Gege forever?”

“Mm-hmm, of course I do!”

“Then let’s get married.”

When the dream ended, Song Zhen woke up to see Fu Yuting’s face. He felt a sense of displacement, unable to tell for a moment if he was still dreaming.

He couldn’t wrap his head around how a person could change so much. The mouth that once spoke sweet words to make him happy now only spat vitriol.

They lay on the same bed, inches apart, yet Song Zhen felt as if their hearts were worlds away.

Song Zhen said nothing. He stared at Fu Yuting for a long time, thinking that life would be so much better if Fu Yuting were a mute.

Noticing signs that Fu Yuting was about to wake, Song Zhen quickly closed his eyes and faked sleep.

He felt Fu Yuting get out of bed. Then, someone else entered the room—the footsteps were light as they approached to check his pulse.

“Mr. Song fainted last night due to extreme emotional stress. His pulse is steady now; he should be fine.”

Song Zhen recognized the voice of Dr. Zhou, who handled his check-ups.

Fu Yuting remained silent. Dr. Zhou said earnestly, “President Fu, if I may be blunt, if you keep upsetting Mr. Song like this, you really are going to make him sick.”

He had been summoned by a phone call in the middle of the night. Fu Yuting had insisted he stay over; he’d thought it was out of concern for his travel safety, but it turned out Fu Yuting just wanted a follow-up check in the morning.

“He is pregnant and physically weak. It’s best not to let his emotions fluctuate so violently,” Dr. Zhou continued to advise.

Fu Yuting said coldly, “Weak? That slap he gave me last night felt plenty strong.”

Dr. Zhou sighed. “President Fu, haven’t you heard the old saying?”

Fu Yuting: “What saying?”

Dr. Zhou: “A happy wife brings a happy life and a prosperous home.”

Fu Yuting: “?”

The “sleeping” Song Zhen: “…”

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