Distorted Fairy Tale - Chapter 32

Song Zhen’s question caused Fu Yuhang to falter for a fleeting moment.

He seemed to be genuinely contemplating how to answer. After a long silence, he looked directly into Song Zhen’s eyes. “Yes. My life plan always included marrying an Omega from a respectable family.”

“I won’t lie to you,” Fu Yuhang continued. “That was indeed my original plan.”

“Understandable,” Song Zhen nodded.

He felt that this answer was actually quite good; at least Fu Yuhang was being honest. It confirmed his judgment of the man’s character.

Fu Yuhang was an unmitigated bastard.

“But there was a prerequisite to that plan,” Fu Yuhang added, his gaze locked onto Song Zhen’s. “That was before I realized I was capable of falling in love with someone.”

Song Zhen let out a sudden laugh, one filled with a tragic, weary disbelief as he offered a ridiculous conclusion. “Fu Yuhang, please don’t tell me that the person you love is.”

“And what if I said it was?” Fu Yuhang interrupted, his eyes fixed on Song Zhen’s face. “I never thought I would love anyone. But if there is anyone in this world who occupies that place in my heart, it is you.”

Song Zhen stared at him. He found the Alpha before him utterly unreasonable, nonsensical, and impossible to comprehend.

“Fu Yuhang,” Song Zhen spoke with a tone layered with complex emotions, “don’t you find it laughable to use that word?”

“No love should ever be accompanied by this much harm.” Song Zhen was provoked by this sudden, jarring confession. “The word ‘love’ is something beautiful and vital to someone like me who has never had it. Could you please not desecrate it?”

“What is the point of saying this now?” The fire in Song Zhen’s heart grew hotter as he threw the Alpha’s own words back at him. “Where was this ‘love’ before? You only show up to disgust me with these sentiments after I’ve started a new life. Have you been watching too many trashy dramas lately? Has your brain finally rotted away?”

Song Zhen turned and walked away without looking back. Fu Yuhang leaned against the corridor wall, watching his retreating figure disappear. He pulled a cigarette from his pack and lit it.

Smoke drifted slowly from his lips, blurring the sharp, cold lines of his profile.

Why is he so angry? Fu Yuhang wondered.

Dammit. That ‘coaching’ course was a scam.

Fu Yuhang had always believed that human nature was limited and plagued by severe flaws. He believed that only constant reading and learning could break through those limitations and correct one’s base nature.

Having recognised his own limitations, he had decided to leave a professional matter to the professionals.

So, he had enrolled in a class.

But when he arrived at the so-called ‘Relationship Coaching Centre’, the person in charge took one look at his profile and his assets and told him directly: “Mr Fu, with your looks and wealth, you just need to confess. Your success rate is a conservative 99.99%.”

Yet, for the first time in his life, Fu Yuhang’s confession had been a total, miserable failure.

In the two months since the divorce, Fu Yuhang had spent his sleepless nights trying to analyze the cause of his insomnia.

In the first few days after Song Zhen left, he was plagued by a recurring dream.

He dreamt of Song Zhen standing by the sea in thin, flimsy clothes. The sea breeze whipped his hem, revealing a glimpse of his pale waist and the stark, ugly scar upon it.

Fu Yuhang would call out for him to come back, but Song Zhen ignored him, walking into the waves with a vacant, hollow expression. In the dream, Fu Yuhang would lunge forward to grab him, only for Song Zhen to dissolve into sand beneath his touch. The tighter he gripped him, the faster the sand slipped through his fingers.

When the wind blew, his hands were left empty.

Fu Yuhang would wake in despair, sometimes unable to distinguish the nightmare from reality. He believed the dreams were triggered by Song Zhen’s admission that he had once tried to end his life in those waters.

Song Zhen had found a new life in that sea, but Fu Yuhang remained trapped within it.

The first time he had that dream, he spent hours parked outside Song Zhen’s flat. He watched as the Beta enjoyed a beer on his balcony, looking quite content.

He should have been relieved, but the worry lingered. He was terrified that Song Zhen was lying that in some corner where he couldn’t see, Song Zhen would turn to sand and drift away.

He had people watch Song Zhen, reporting back on his daily routine and checking for any suicidal tendencies. The answer was always the same: Song Zhen was living well. He was looking after himself. His life was disciplined and simple. The shadow that once clung to him seemed to be lifting.

Fu Yuhang told himself he should finally be able to sleep.

But the insomnia persisted. His arms felt empty.

The dreams of the sea stopped, replaced by memories of the slums. Fragments he had forgotten or suppressed began to resurface.

When Fu Yuhang first woke after his memory loss, his past was a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. He knew a Beta had saved him and that they had lived together for a time, but the details were obscured, as if viewed through frosted glass. At the time, he hadn’t cared. It was a minor detour; he was back on his proper path.

Then Song Zhen appeared.

The moment their eyes met, the moment they touched, the blurred memories began to sharpen. All the things Fu Yuhang hadn’t wanted to remember or hadn’t valued began to flood back.

During those nights, with his arms empty, he lay awake with a complete set of memories. The part of himself he had lost the man named Song Heng had finally returned to his body.

Fu Yuhang was brilliant. He had always been top of his class; he excelled at everything he touched. But the brilliant Fu Yuhang was only twenty-four, and he had never truly loved. At the time, he hadn’t understood:

There is no greater agony than to love and despise at the same time.

By the time he realised this during his lonely nights, it was almost too late.

He was hopelessly unskilled at romance, and he hated going into battle unprepared. He had intended to “study” more before approaching Song Zhen again, but Ji Xiuyuan’s engagement had acted as a violent catalyst.

When he saw Ji Xiuyuan standing frozen on the stage, staring at Ji Qinglin, he had wondered: If I were the one on that stage, and Song Zhen was the one walking away, would I chase him?

Before he could even finish the thought, his legs had moved of their own accord the moment he saw Song Zhen run out. His body had escaped his control, instinctively pursuing the person it craved. The words he had never intended to speak were blurted out.

The result was not just failure, but the discovery that he had become an object of disgust.

As he finished work, Song Zhen looked out of the window. Dark clouds blanketed the city; a storm was coming. He quickly packed his things, hoping to reach the underground station before the heavens opened.

Luck was not on his side. He was halfway there when the drizzle began, turning almost instantly into a torrential downpour. The rain struck the ground with a violent patter, the heavy drops stinging his skin.

The rain intensified until it became a solid curtain, and Song Zhen was drenched to the bone. With no shelter in sight, he had no choice but to keep running.

Suddenly, a horn blared beside him. Song Zhen turned to see a black sedan. The rear window slid down, and he heard Fu Yuhang’s voice:

“Song Zhen, get in.”

Song Zhen stared at him for two seconds, then kept running. Fu Yuhang let out a frustrated click of his tongue, grabbed an umbrella, and stepped out of the car.

With his long stride, the Alpha caught up in no time. He gripped Song Zhen by the wrist, his brow furrowed. “Why are you running?”

Song Zhen wrenched his hand away, his voice dripping with loathing. “I’ve told you a thousand times don’t touch me.”

Fu Yuhang’s tone softened. “Don’t be difficult. It’s pouring. Let me take you home.”

“I don’t need you,” Song Zhen snapped. He tried to move past him, but Fu Yuhang’s patience snapped. Without a word, he hoisted Song Zhen over his shoulder and shoved him into the back of the car.

“Old Chen, to Anfu Estate.”

Fu Yuhang rattled off the address of Song Zhen’s flat.

“How do you know where I live?” Song Zhen gasped in shock. Then, as the realisation hit him, his voice turned sharp with fury. “You’ve been spying on me?!”

No one likes to be watched. It was skin-crawlingly intrusive.

Fu Yuhang said nothing. He took a dry white towel and began to dry Song Zhen’s hair. Song Zhen, unable to stand his silence, threw the towel aside. “Fu Yuhang! You are a complete pervert!”

He couldn’t understand what Fu Yuhang wanted. This was the same man who had treated him like trash in this very car. Song Zhen had done exactly what he wanted—he had gotten as far away as possible. So what was this now?

Fu Yuhang calmly picked up another towel and continued drying Song Zhen’s hair. He looked at him and admitted it: “Yes. I had people watch you. I’m a total pervert.”

“I don’t just know where you live. I know where you work, what time you get on the train, and everything you do each day. I know it all,” he confessed without a shred of shame.

“Are you hungry?” Fu Yuhang asked suddenly. “Shall we get something to eat before we go back?”

Song Zhen was convinced the man had lost his mind. “Is there something wrong with your brain?” he asked coldly.

“Does a persistent migraine from two months of no sleep count?” Fu Yuhang replied casually.

At this distance, Song Zhen could see the deep dark circles beneath Fu Yuhang’s eyes. His pale skin only made the shadows look more pronounced and gloomy.

“If you’re sick, go to a hospital,” Song Zhen said with a detached distance. “Don’t bother me.”

“You’re the only one who can cure my sickness.” Fu Yuhang stopped drying his hair and looked deep into Song Zhen’s eyes.

“The hospital. doesn’t seem to be able to cure lovesickness.”

Support Distorted Fairy Tale