Distorted Fairy Tale - Chapter 30

It had been many years since Song Zhen last sat down to study and regaining that academic mindset was proving to be a challenge.

Song Zhen was inherently bright, but in the past, his energy had been consumed by caring for his younger brother and managing an endless mountain of chores. Under such pressure, learning had become an exhausting struggle.

Now, he woke at ten to seven every morning. By seven, he would be in the kitchen preparing his breakfast and lunch. The hotel provided a meal allowance, so by bringing his own food, he could save a tidy sum of money.

After breakfast, he would stand on the balcony and recite vocabulary. The weather had turned cooler, and the crisp morning breeze helped to clear the lingering fog of sleep from his mind.

“Abandon.”

Click!

Song Zhen was so focused that he failed to notice a brief glint of light flashing from the bushes in the estate’s communal garden. His morning ritual was captured, frozen in time.

When Fu Yuhang arrived at the office, a manila envelope was already waiting on his desk. He sat in his leather chair, pushed his documents aside, and opened the envelope first. A stack of photographs was arranged chronologically a visual log of Song Zhen’s daily routine.

Song Zhen’s schedule was remarkably disciplined.

Seven-thirty: Reciting vocabulary on the balcony. Eight-twenty: Passing through the main gates of the estate. Eight-fifty: Arriving at the hotel for work.

There were a few scattered shots of him at his job. In one photo from yesterday, Song Zhen was carrying two potted plants home, stopping along the way to feed a stray dog. A small, faint smile played on his lips. Whether it was because the photographer’s hand had slipped or for some other reason, this particular photo was slightly blurred.

Then came the photos of him entering the underground station. Finally, a shot of his rented flat with the lights on, showing a busy silhouette moving in the kitchen.

In his mind, Fu Yuhang pieced together Song Zhen’s day. It was simple, ordinary, and showed no signs of suicidal intent.

His fingers brushed lightly over the blurred photo the only one where Song Zhen was smiling. He pulled out his phone and sent a message.

 Get better equipment. Make sure the shots are clear. [Transfer] 50,000 yuan.

***

After a week of feeding a small stray dog near the hotel and confirming it was truly homeless, Song Zhen finally couldn’t resist bringing it home.

The dog was barely larger than the palm of his hand a white scrap of a thing, though its fur had turned a grimy grey from life on the streets. Song Zhen gave it a bath. The puppy was exceptionally well-behaved, perhaps sensing after a week of being fed that this human meant no harm.

Once clean, the puppy was white and fragrant. Song Zhen fed it some goat’s milk and took it to a local vet for a check-up. The doctor recommended deworming.

During the process, Song Zhen chose a name: Mianmian.

Because the puppy felt as soft as a cloud when held.

The flat felt much livelier with another living creature around. Although Ji Qinglin and Zhou Nining often dropped by to scrounge a meal, they weren’t there every day. Ji Qinglin had a busy filming schedule, and Zhou Nining was currently occupied with painting a birthday gift for Le Yan.

Everyone had their own lives to lead.

But the puppy was always there. Song Zhen had wanted a dog for a long time, but back when he was slaving away from dawn to dusk to make ends meet, he was afraid he couldn’t care for one properly. Moreover, Song Heng had been terrified of dogs, so the idea had been abandoned.

Song Zhen set up a cute, plush little bed for Mianmian. The puppy spun in circles with joy. Song Zhen laughed happily, recording the moment in his diary.

Mianmian loves the little bed I made. Happy. 

This was a suggestion from his therapist: to record things that made him happy every day, no matter how small, to provide positive reinforcement.

Song Zhen had only been doing it for a few days, but he had already filled several pages. The entries were a mix of trivialities: “The weather was lovely today, happy,” “Bought some beautiful potted plants, happy,” “Got all the practice questions right, happy,” “Received a postcard from Xiao Bai, happy.”

Bit by bit, Song Zhen was trying to piece his broken self back together.

Lately, Fu Yuhang had not been sleeping well. In truth, this had been going on for some time. He blamed it on the fact that Song Zhen had spent months curling into his arms every night.

They say it takes twenty-one days to form a habit. If one does something consistently for that long, it becomes ingrained. Having had that Beta burrowed into his chest for months, it would have been stranger if he hadn’t formed a habit.

Fu Yuhang decided that this “bad habit” needed to be broken as quickly as possible. To improve his sleep, he tried taking long baths every night, but found they only made him more alert. He shifted strategies, heading to the gym after work to exhaust himself with boxing.

That was where he ran into Ji Xiuyuan. Naturally, the two had to go a round.

Fu Yuhang wore red boxing gloves; Ji Xiuyuan wore blue. They sparred casually while they talked.

Fu Yuhang: “What are you doing here?” Ji Xiuyuan: “You first.” Fu Yuhang: “Insomnia.” Ji Xiuyuan: “Hah. Me too.” Fu Yuhang: “Why? Is your company going bankrupt? Losing sleep over the books?”

“Hardly.” Ji Xiuyuan’s grin widened as he increased his power. “I heard that Beta divorced you? Is our CEO Fu staying up all night over-analysing his failed marriage?”

Fu Yuhang’s gaze turned icy. He let out a sharp scoff. “I heard your big star gave you a slap in front of the whole office. Did he damage your hearing, Ji? Because your information is wrong.”

“I sent that Beta packing because he was a nuisance,” Fu Yuhang countered effortlessly. “Where did you get your gossip?”

“Zhou Nining,” Ji Xiuyuan raised an eyebrow. “I also heard you nearly killed Zhou Niran? Was that a fit of rage for the sake of your ‘beauty’?”

Fu Yuhang knew it. Zhou Nining, with his charcoal sketches and his big mouth, couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

“Be careful. He’s still our business partner,” Ji Xiuyuan narrowed his eyes slightly. “And Old Master Zhou is an old friend of your grandfather’s. Don’t actually kill the man.”

At the mention of Zhou Niran, Fu Yuhang’s face clouded over. “Don’t talk to me about him.”

“Since you’re divorced, you’ll have to marry eventually. Why not just give in to Zhou Niran?” Ji Xiuyuan laughed. “Marriage is just an exchange of interests, anyway. Does it matter who it’s with? At least Zhou Niran would give you favourable terms. Aren’t you the one who always puts profit first?”

Fu Yuhang was silent for a moment before replying coldly, “If it doesn’t matter who the marriage is with, why haven’t you tied the knot yet?”

Ji Xiuyuan stopped moving. Fu Yuhang pulled his punch.

“Yuhang, I’m getting engaged,” Ji Xiuyuan said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual mockery.

Fu Yuhang was silent for a long time. He looked at his friend. “Want a drink?”

When Song Zhen finished work, he received a call from Ji Qinglin. A new bar had opened in A City, and Ji Qinglin asked if he wanted to go for a few drinks. Song Zhen sensed a subtle melancholy in his friend’s voice and agreed.

He went home to feed Mianmian and changed into a sky-blue jacket. He rarely wore the drab, dark colours of his past anymore, preferring brighter tones. Both Ji Qinglin and Zhou Nining agreed that these colours made him look much more vibrant. Song Zhen quite agreed.

When he arrived at the bar, Ji Qinglin was already drinking alone. He waved Song Zhen over. 

“I called Zhou Nining too. Let’s drink our fill today!”

“Alright,” Song Zhen smiled, sitting beside him. After a moment of hesitation, he asked with concern, “Xiao Ji, has something happened?”

“Nothing!” Ji Qinglin grinned widely, acting as if the question were absurd. “I’m great! Ge, you’re overthinking it!”

Song Zhen believed that when speaking to someone, you should look them in the eye—not just to hear what they say, but to see what lies behind. In Ji Qinglin’s eyes, he saw a profound sadness.

But since his friend didn’t want to talk, Song Zhen didn’t press him. He clinked his glass against Ji Qinglin’s. “I’ve adopted a puppy. You should come and see him when you have time.”

“Really!” Ji Qinglin’s smile reached his eyes this time. “That’s brilliant. At least you won’t be so lonely living alone. Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” Song Zhen said. “He’s very sweet. His name is Mianmian.”

“Then Mianmian is my godson from now on!” Ji Qinglin declared. “I’ll bring him something nice the next time I visit.”

“Lucky Mianmian, having a movie star as a godfather,” Song Zhen laughed.

Zhou Nining was likely fussing over his outfit again; Ji Qinglin and Song Zhen had already finished several bottles, and there was still no sign of him. Ji Qinglin eventually excused himself to the restroom, leaving Song Zhen at the booth. To pass the time, Song Zhen pulled out his phone to review some vocabulary words he had struggled with earlier.

Suddenly, he felt a weight on his shoulder. He turned his head and saw an Alpha in a garish, patterned shirt sitting next to him, his arm draped casually over Song Zhen’s shoulders.

“A beauty, all alone?” The Alpha’s other hand slid towards Song Zhen’s thigh.

Song Zhen’s brow furrowed in distaste. Ji Qinglin was already in a bad mood, and he didn’t want to cause any trouble. He shifted away and said coldly, “Sir, please show some respect.”

The Alpha looked at Song Zhen’s face, which remained strikingly beautiful even under the chaotic club lights. He felt a sudden itch of desire. The colder and more resistant they were, the better. He chuckled. “Look, little beauty, I’ll be direct. I’ve taken a liking to you.”

“Spend the night with me,” the Alpha leaned in, whispering into his ear with a greasy, affected voice. “I’ll give you twenty thousand. How does that sound?”

Song Zhen’s brow deepened. He stood up abruptly, his expression one of pure revulsion. “Disgusting!”

The Alpha’s face twisted with rage at the rejection. He grabbed Song Zhen by the chin, hissing, “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m doing you a favour by looking at you. Don’t push your luck!”

“I could kill someone in here and never see a day in prison!” the Alpha boasted, trying to intimidate him.

Song Zhen’s chin throbbed with pain. As he struggled to break free, the Alpha lost his temper and violently wrenched Song Zhen’s arms back.

Song Zhen collapsed to his knees, breaking into a cold sweat from the sudden agony.

But almost immediately, the hands pinning him released their grip. He heard a gasp of pain from above, followed by a familiar, chilling voice.

“Why don’t you guess. if I were to cripple you today, would I go to prison?”

Song Zhen looked up. A dark-faced Fu Yuhang had the Alpha by the throat, pinning his head against the leather sofa with a murderous intensity.

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