Distorted Fairy Tale - Chapter 26

Dr Zhou pulled Fu Yuhang aside to give him some final instructions before leaving the ward. Once more, Song Zhen and Fu Yuhang were left alone in the heavy silence.

Song Zhen had no desire to see him. He lay back down and closed his eyes, cutting off the world.

Though his eyes were shut, he could feel Fu Yuhang’s presence a steady, unblinking gaze fixed upon him from the bedside. The weight of that stare was almost physical, making Song Zhen’s skin crawl with discomfort.

“Eat something before you sleep,” Fu Yuhang said, his voice low as he held a bowl of congee.

Song Zhen had been unconscious for so long without food, and having just undergone surgery, his body was at its limit.

Song Zhen ignored him, feigning sleep. But when Fu Yuhang reached down and gathered him into his arms, lifting him from the bed, the charade became impossible to maintain.

“Let me go!” Song Zhen began to struggle violently. In the frantic scuffle, a sharp crack echoed through the room, Song Zhen had instinctively slapped Fu Yuhang across the face.

Fu Yuhang’s expression darkened instantly. Song Zhen flinched, a cold shiver of fear running through him as he instinctively recoiled.

Fu Yuhang’s head remained turned from the force of the blow. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, then slowly looked back at Song Zhen, his muscles tensed as if he were exerting every ounce of willpower to restrain himself.

However, his eyes caught a glimpse of the scar on Song Zhen’s lower abdomen, exposed during the struggle. The anger seemed to drain out of him instantly, his gaze softening into a hollow flatness.

“Stop fighting,” Fu Yuhang said, picking up the bowl again. “You haven’t had a proper meal in days.”

Song Zhen continued to glare at him, his eyes filled with naked loathing. “Do you honestly think I can stomach anything while looking at you?”

Fu Yuhang stared at him in silence for a long moment. With a dull thud, he set the congee down on the bedside table and walked out of the ward without another word.

Song Zhen was famished. His life lately had been a blurred cycle of unconsciousness and pain; Fu Yuhang was right—it had been far too long since he had eaten like a normal human being.

Now, whenever he closed his eyes, grotesque fragments of memory played across his mind like a flickering film. He could no longer distinguish between what was real and what was merely a figment of his imagination.

The boundary between dream and reality, between the virtual and the tangible, was thinning. Like two rivers merging, the dividing line had long since washed away. It is a terrifying thing for a person to lose their grip on what is real, but at this moment, Song Zhen was beyond noticing the danger.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Zhou Nining arrived.

He clearly knew what had happened. The moment he saw Song Zhen pale, fragile, and looking as though a stiff breeze might shatter him. His eyes welled with tears.

“Zhenzhen.” Zhou Nining pulled him into a tight embrace, stroking his back in a soothing, rhythmic motion. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s all over now.”

The warmth of the hug and the genuine concern in those words caused Song Zhen’s tightly wound composure to snap. “It’s not over.” he rasped.

The image of the child dissolving in his arms, bit by bit, flashed through his mind again. Song Zhen choked out, “Xiao Ning, did you know? He said it hurt. He told me he was in pain.”

Song Zhen didn’t specify who “he” was, but Zhou Nining could guess. Hearing Song Zhen’s heart-broken weeping, Zhou Nining felt his own resolve crumbling.

Even in his grief, Song Zhen’s sobs were muffled, a habit born of years of having to hide his pain. Zhou Nining had to be inches away to hear the faint, broken hitches in his breath.

Zhou Nining swallowed his own tears and continued to whisper, “It’s alright now. Just let it out. If you keep all this bottled up, it’ll destroy you.”

Song Zhen stopped resisting. He buried his face in Zhou Nining’s chest, his fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as the quiet sobs finally gave way to audible grief.

He wept, repeating the same four words like an incantation: “He said it hurt.” It had become a curse, a mental cage that trapped him within that moment.

Fu Yuhang stood by the door, listening to the harrowing sound of Song Zhen’s mourning. A faint, cold glint flickered in the corner of his eye. He sent a message to Zhou Nining:

Make sure he eats something before he sleeps.

It seemed that as long as Fu Yuhang stayed out of sight, Song Zhen could remain relatively calm.

Dr Zhou had recommended a fortnight’s stay in the hospital. Zhou Nining visited every day, doing his best to cheer him up. Today was the tenth day.

“I’m telling you, Zhou Niran’s right hand is completely ruined. Someone drove a spike right through his palm.” Zhou Nining’s expression was one of pure schadenfreude, as if he were talking about a mortal enemy rather than his own brother.

Song Zhen’s expression didn’t change. Whether Zhou Niran lived or died meant nothing to him.

Observing his reaction, Zhou Nining added, “‘Island’ has reopened. Once you’re feeling a bit stronger, shall I take you there to relax?”

Song Zhen’s expression flickered at the mention of the bar. “Is Jiang Mingyu. Alright?”

“The old master is doing just fine. Don’t you worry as long as I’m around, I won’t let Fu. you-know-who… cause any trouble.” Zhou Nining caught himself, censoring the name he knew Song Zhen hated to hear.

In truth, Zhou Nining was exaggerating. If Fu Yuhang truly wanted to do something, no one could stop him. When Zhou Nining had broached the subject with him, Fu Yuhang had initially snapped, “Out of the question.” But when Zhou Nining countered with, “Don’t you want Zhenzhen to be a bit happier? He’s in a terrible state,” the Alpha had fallen silent a tacit permission.

“How are things with you and Le Yan?” Song Zhen asked.

“Oh, us? We’re great!” Zhou Nining grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. “I swear, the slaps Le Yan gives me lately are much gentler than they used to be.”

The corner of Song Zhen’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. “If he really doesn’t want it in the end, don’t force him.”

“I’m not Ji Xiuyuan,” Zhou Nining replied. “I prefer it when the feeling is mutual.”

“And Xiao Ji? How has he been?” Mentioning Ji Xiuyuan naturally brought Ji Qinglin to mind.

“He’s been busy. He went off to a remote forest to film recently. Ji Xiuyuan’s face has been as black as coal every day. His assistant told me Ji Qinglin had a massive row with him before vanishing into the woods for over two weeks.”

Just as they were speaking, the ward door swung open. A tall man wearing a black beanie, sunglasses, and a face mask strode in.

He pulled off the mask and glasses, revealing a handsome, beaming face. He shook a gift box in the air. “Surprise!”

It was Ji Qinglin.

“Good grief! What’s with the get-up?” Zhou Nining laughed. “Are you famous now or something?”

“Heh, your boy is actually a bit of a star lately!” Ji Qinglin said boastfully. “A variety show I did with a colleague went viral our ‘CP’ is huge. Now I can’t walk two steps without someone asking for an autograph.”

He sighed dramatically, putting on an “it’s so hard being famous” act. “Honestly, it’s a bit of a hassle.”

Zhou Nining finally understood why Ji Xiuyuan looked so miserable. “That’s brilliant! I’ll make sure all my friends start ‘shipping’ you immediately.”

“Congratulations, Xiao Ji,” Song Zhen said with a faint smile, though the dark circles under his eyes made him look exhausted.

Ji Qinglin placed some health supplements on the table and sat beside Zhou Nining. “Ge, I’ve got some time off coming up. Do you want to go on a trip with me?”

“Oi, count me in! I’ve got a yacht; let’s go out to sea! We can have a party on the water! I’ll invite the Master and little Le Yan too. The more, the merrier!” Zhou Nining began plotting.

Ji Qinglin chimed in, “Sounds perfect. I love a good party.”

As the two of them descended into a heated discussion about which pier to use and who to invite, Song Zhen fell silent. He watched them with a vacant look, their voices beginning to drift away.

He had been doing this a lot lately, losing his train of thought in the middle of a conversation.

Their voices felt as if they were coming from deep underwater. In Song Zhen’s eyes, their movements began to slow down. The tick-tock of the mechanical clock on the wall became jarringly loud, each click of the metal gears syncing perfectly with the thud of his own heart.

The world seemed to be viewed through a grey filter. The sunlight hitting the windowsill felt cold. Outside, the trees faded into blurred smudges of colour, as if seen through frosted glass. He rubbed his eyes, but the clarity didn’t return.

As he turned his head, he saw a mass of twisting, distorted flesh tangled in the branches of a tree outside. He stared at it, frozen, until the flesh began to speak.

“It hurts.” “Mummy, the baby is in so much pain.” “Why am I all alone? Mummy, why won’t you come and stay with me? It’s so cold. I’m so cold.”

Song Zhen began to walk toward the window.

“Zhenzhen!” “Ge!”

Zhou Nining and Ji Qinglin were startled by the vacant, glassy expression on his face. They watched in confusion as he headed for the window, thinking he just wanted some fresh air until he began to climb onto the sill. They lunged for him.

“Zhenzhen, what are you doing?!” Zhou Nining grabbed his left arm, his heart leaping into his throat.

“Ge! Stop it!” Ji Qinglin grabbed his right arm, his face turning pale with shock.

“Baby… Mummy is coming to stay with you.” Song Zhen murmured in a daze.

The other two couldn’t hear him clearly and leaned in to listen, but Song Zhen suddenly began to struggle with frantic strength. “Let go… let go of me!”

“We can’t let go!” Zhou Nining shouted, wrapping his arms around Song Zhen to pull him back. He yelled to Ji Qinglin, “Something’s wrong! Go get the doctor, now!”

“Right!” Ji Qinglin bolted out of the room.

Song Zhen thrashed against Zhou Nining’s hold. “Zhenzhen, look at me! Calm down!”

Song Zhen only knew that someone was stopping him from reaching his child. Tears streamed down his face. “Baby… baby, don’t be scared. Mummy’s coming.”

Suddenly, Song Zhen bit Zhou Nining’s hand. With a cry of pain, Zhou Nining instinctively let go. Song Zhen broke free, a blinding white light filling his vision a light so beckoning, so alluring, that he longed to throw himself into its embrace.

“Baby, I’m coming for you.”

Just as Zhou Nining scrambled to grab him again, another figure beat him to it, pulling Song Zhen into a crushing embrace.

The scent of agarwood filled his senses. Song Zhen froze. He looked up and saw his own reflection in a pair of beautiful, obsidian eyes.

“Gege,” Fu Yuhang rasped, his voice thick with emotion. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

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