Distorted Fairy Tale - Chapter 21

“You don’t even like me. so why do you keep touching me?” The corners of Song Zhen’s eyes were flushed red, and the sorrow in his gaze seemed ready to overflow. “Can’t you tell that I”

love you?

Song Zhen couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Discussing “love” with Fu Yuhang felt utterly pointless.

Fu Yuhang was Fu Yuhang, and Song Heng was Song Heng. Song Zhen felt like a fool for ever thinking they were the same person. Song Heng was his Song Heng the sweet, simple boy who lived to make him laugh, whose entire world began and ended with him.

Fu Yuhang was the heir to the prestigious Fu family of City A. He was a man from a world diametrically opposed to Song Zhen’s own; a brilliant, cold elite who had been fast-tracked to the top university.

He was the man who would discard him once he grew bored. He was the Alpha currently using his pheromones to crush him into submission.

The sadness in Song Zhen’s eyes was like an inescapable fog, drifting from his gaze into Fu Yuhang’s chest, merging with the dark clouds already gathering there.

Fu Yuhang felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest. Looking down at the trembling man, a sudden realization struck him. “Do you think that sleeping with you means I love you?”

A flash of humiliation crossed Song Zhen’s face. He remained silent.

Fu Yuhang suddenly understood the fantasies swirling inside Song Zhen’s simple head. He found it almost laughable. Did this Beta actually think I loved him?

Me? Fu Yuhang? Loving a Beta from the slums? What a joke.

“Just how starved for affection are you,” Fu Yuhang said, his expression one of genuine bewilderment, “that you mistake sex for love?”

Song Zhen froze, his face a mask of shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Starved for affection?

The man who once promised to love him for a lifetime was now mocking his emotional vulnerability with such blood-soaked cruelty. Song Zhen began to wonder if Fu Yuhang remembered their past at all. Did this man truly possess Song Heng’s memories?

Fu Yuhang’s words were like silver needles piercing his heart one by one, a slow, agonizing pain that made it hard to breathe. Song Zhen turned his face away, weeping silently as tears soaked into the pillowcase like broken strings of pearls.

Fu Yuhang forced Song Zhen’s face back toward him and kissed him hard, pinning him down to prove through sheer physical force exactly how different love and sex could be.

Song Zhen cried throughout the night, repeating only three words over and over:

“I hate you.”

Lately, Zhou Ning had been feverishly pursuing the bar’s singer, dragging Song Zhen to “The Isle” every single day. The bar was now one of the hottest spots in City A, yet Jiang Mingyu always kept a private booth reserved for them.

Every time Song Zhen arrived, Jiang Mingyu would serve him a glass of warm milk.

While Zhou Ning snuck off to the employee lounge, Jiang Mingyu would sit and chat with Song Zhen during his breaks.

“I get the feeling you aren’t very happy,” Jiang Mingyu noted.

“Is it that obvious?” Song Zhen didn’t deny it; he just offered a faint, tired smile. He was trying his best to look okay, but it was purely superficial.

“Others might not see it, but you can’t fool me.” Jiang Mingyu leaned in close, his eyes bright even in the dim light of the bar. “I used to watch you very closely. I know your expressions too well.”

Song Zhen looked into those sparkling eyes and felt a momentary lapse in reality.

“What’s wrong? Did that brat Song Heng do something to upset you?” Jiang Mingyu joked.

Song Zhen gripped his milk glass and took a small sip. “No.”

“I suppose not. Song Heng could never bear to see you sad,” Jiang Mingyu mused. “Every time I saw him back then, it felt surreal. His eyes were truly filled with nothing but you. Sometimes I felt like he only existed for the purpose of loving you.”

Jiang Mingyu took a drink. “I admit, I could never match that level of devotion. I understand why you chose him. Who could say no to someone whose entire world revolves around them?”

Song Zhen listened in silence. Driven by a sudden, desperate urge, he whispered, “Could you… tell me more about him?”

He needed to hear it. Facing the cold, distant Fu Yuhang every day made him doubt his own mind. Did Song Heng really exist? Or was he just a beautiful hallucination he’d invented to cope with his misery?

Jiang Mingyu had witnessed their history. Hearing him speak of the past made Song Heng feel real again.

Though he found the request odd, Jiang Mingyu complied. He talked about the first time he saw Song Heng and thought he looked like a movie star; about how Song Heng had terrifying strength; and how he was so stubborn that he wouldn’t listen to a soul except for Song Zhen.

As he listened, Song Zhen began to smile, but his vision grew blurry.

“Song Zhen?” Jiang Mingyu frowned. “Why are you crying?”

“Jiang Mingyu, did you know?” Song Zhen’s tears fell freely now. “Song Heng is dead.”

“He’s dead,” he sobbed, burying his face in his hands.

Startled by his grief, Jiang Mingyu scrambled to offer him tissues, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. Life has to go on, Song Zhen. If you ever need anything, just come to me.”

“I’ll never forget that bowl of noodles you gave me when I was at my lowest.”

Years ago, when Jiang Mingyu’s business had failed and he didn’t have a cent for food, Song Zhen, who was working at a noodle shop had seen him standing outside and offered him a meal. Even when Song Zhen’s own life was a struggle, he always chose kindness. That gentle soul was exactly why Jiang Mingyu had loved him.

Seeing Song Zhen so distraught, Jiang Mingyu reached out and gently patted his back to comfort him. From his angle, he caught a glimpse beneath Song Zhen’s collar angry, dark bite marks and bruises.

It wasn’t hard to guess the violence behind those marks. Whoever had left them wanted the world to know that Song Zhen was claimed.

Song Zhen stopped crying and looked up to thank his friend, only to lock eyes with Fu Yuhang, who was standing at the adjacent booth, his gaze icy enough to freeze blood.

Song Zhen felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over him.

Jiang Mingyu followed his gaze, saw the “resurrected” Song Heng, and jumped. “Holy shit!”

Zhou Ning returned from his daily attempt to woo the singer, only to find Jiang Mingyu on the floor after a blow, Song Zhen trying to help him, and Fu Yuhang gripping Song Zhen’s wrist with a terrifying, dark expression.

“What the hell! What are you doing!?” Zhou Ning rushed to help Jiang Mingyu, who was clutching his stomach in obvious pain.

“Fu Yuhang, have you lost your mind!?” Zhou Ning yelled.

Fu Yuhang ignored him completely. He looked down at Jiang Mingyu, his voice freezing. “Get out of City A within three days. If you don’t, I’ll have someone ‘escort’ you out.”

“Fu Yuhang!” Song Zhen cried out in anger. “How can you be like this? What did he ever do to you?”

“I’m seriously considering another paternity test to see if that thing in your belly is actually mine,” Fu Yuhang hissed, his eyes narrowing. “People from the slums really are all the same—cheap and low-class.”

“First it was Ji Qinglin, and now you’re rekindling things with Jiang Mingyu? You won’t let me touch you because you’re too busy playing around outside?” Fu Yuhang let out a dark, predatory laugh. “I warned you, Song Zhen. If I caught you, I’d kill him first, then deal with you.”

“Telling him to leave is me being merciful. Don’t push it.” Fu Yuhang jerked Song Zhen toward him. “You still have the energy to worry about him?” He leaned into Song Zhen’s ear, dropping his voice. “You’d better start worrying about yourself.”

Fu Yuhang dragged Song Zhen away despite Zhou Ning’s protests. Song Zhen couldn’t keep up with his long strides and stumbled the whole way to the car.

Back in the bar, Zhou Ning helped Jiang Mingyu up and noticed Ji Xiuyuan watching the drama from the next booth while smoking, alongside a dark-faced Zhou Ran.

Zhou Ran looked at his brother, his smile returning but not reaching his eyes. “Xiao Ning, your friend is quite the ‘important figure.’ Why didn’t you introduce us at the art gallery?”

“Zhou Ran, don’t you dare touch him!” Zhou Ning barked. He then turned to Ji Xiuyuan. “Ji Xiuyuan, stop acting cool and go stop them!”

Ji Xiuyuan blew out a cloud of smoke and ignored him.

Zhou Ning pulled his trump card: “If you don’t go, I’m sending the photos of you at that blind date to Ji Qinglin!”

Ji Xiuyuan shot him a cold look, crushed his cigarette in the ashtray, and stood up. “You really do stick your nose into everything.”

Song Zhen was thrown into the back seat of the car. The driver, Old Chen, caught Fu Yuhang’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

“Old Chen, go out and have a smoke,” Fu Yuhang commanded.

“Yes, sir.”

As Old Chen shut the door, he wondered if his half-pack of cigarettes would be enough. The moment the door clicked shut, he heard the Beta’s terrified cries from inside the car, begging “No” over and over.

Old Chen sighed heavily.

A while later, Ji Xiuyuan arrived to find Old Chen squatting by the roadside smoking, next to a black sedan that was rocking slightly.

“How many have you had?” Ji Xiuyuan asked.

“Almost finished the pack,” Old Chen sighed.

Ji Xiuyuan looked at the car and pulled out his phone. “Call Dr. Zhou.”

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