Distorted Fairy Tale - Chapter 4

The veins on Fu Yuting’s temples pulsed visibly as his expression darkened. “Give him back to you? How? Am I supposed to give myself amnesia all over again?”

Song Zhen bit his lip and fell silent. After a long pause, he whispered, “Then you can’t say he’s dead. You’re not allowed to call him an idiot, and you can’t deny that he existed.”

“Black and white, signed and sealed,” Fu Yuting replied dismissively.

Song Zhen didn’t say another word, nor did he shed another tear. It was a silent agreement.

The car drove for another half hour before finally coming to a stop in front of a three-story detached villa.

Song Zhen’s heart trembled when he saw the estate. He had only ever seen houses this large on television. He asked softly, “Is this your home?”

Fu Yuting didn’t bother answering such an obvious question.

As Song Zhen followed Fu Yuting inside, he was met by two neat rows of servants standing by the entrance. They were dressed in uniform light wheat-colored attire and greeted them in perfect unison: “Welcome home, Young Master.”

Fu Yuting gave a curt nod, and the servants dispersed to attend to their duties.

The first floor living room was magnificent spacious, bright, and impeccably clean.

Song Zhen followed Fu Yuting up to the second floor and into the master bedroom located right in the center.

The room was decorated with stark simplicity. It was unmistakably Fu Yuting’s space—cold and clinical, much like the man himself.

“You’ll stay here from now on,” Fu Yuting said. He pointed to a backpack resting on the sofa that looked completely out of place against the room’s high-end decor. “I had your bag brought over.”

Song Zhen rummaged through his backpack and realized his water bottle was missing.

“There was a water bottle in here,” Song Zhen noted.

“Buy a new one.” Fu Yuting handed Song Zhen a card. “This card has no limit. Buy whatever you want.”

“I just want my water bottle.” Song Zhen didn’t even glance at the card. Instead, he looked up at Fu Yuting. “You bought that for me.”

Back when Song Heng worked as a laborer, he had used his very first paycheck to buy that bottle for Song Zhen.

“Fine,” Fu Yuting said, his voice icy. “I’ll have someone look for it.”

Song Zhen stared at him and finally asked the question that had been weighing on his mind for a month: “A month ago… why did you suddenly leave?”

Fu Yuting looked at him coldly. “Wash up and go to sleep.”

He clearly had no intention of answering.

Fu Yuting went into the bathroom to shower. When he came out and saw Song Zhen already asleep on the bed, he couldn’t help but frown.

He walked to the bedside and gave Song Zhen a shove. “Go take a shower.”

Song Zhen had been in a deep sleep. Jostled awake, he squinted his eyes, his mind still foggy. Seeing Fu Yuting’s face, he instinctively thought it was Song Heng. He reached out, curled his arms around the Alpha’s neck, and murmured habitually, “I’m so tired. I already washed this morning…” He started to close his eyes again.

Fu Yuting didn’t waste words; he picked the man up, dropped him into the bathtub, and turned the showerhead directly onto his face.

Drenched and sputtering, Song Zhen was now officially wide awake.

When Song Zhen finally stepped out of the bathroom, he was still wearing the clothes from earlier a white polo shirt and jeans.

Fu Yuting was lying in bed reading a book. He looked up and frowned. “You aren’t planning to sleep in those, are you?”

“But I didn’t bring any pajamas.”

Fu Yuting got up, went to the walk-in closet, and pulled out one of his own robes. It was made of black silk. He handed it to Song Zhen. “Change.”

Song Zhen nodded. “Okay.” He immediately started pulling his shirt off.

Fu Yuting’s brow furrowed. “Change in the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Song Zhen shot him a quick glance before turning back toward the bathroom, thinking to himself: You’re the one who got me pregnant, what are you acting shy for now?

When Song Zhen emerged, the clothes were far too big for him. The hem of the robe nearly dragged on the floor, and the sleeves buried his hands.

Song Zhen’s skin was naturally very pale, creating a sharp contrast against the black silk. Under the bedroom lights, the skin at his collarbone was almost dazzlingly white.

Fu Yuting’s gaze lingered on Song Zhen’s neck for a second before he returned to his book.

Song Zhen climbed into bed and lay down beside him.

He watched the Alpha’s profile for a while. The way his hair fell naturally, the high bridge of his nose, and the sharp line of his jaw all overlapped perfectly with the Song Heng in his memories.

In this moment, it finally felt real—he had found him.

“Goodnight,” Song Zhen said softly.

Fu Yuting didn’t respond.

By the time Fu Yuting finished his book and prepared to sleep, he caught a glimpse of a faint, lingering smile on Song Zhen’s lips.

The next morning, the space beside Song Zhen was already empty. He noticed a set of white pajamas sitting on the nightstand.

He shed the oversized silk robe and put on the new pajamas; they fit him perfectly.

After freshening up, he headed downstairs. As he reached the first floor, he saw Fu Yuting sitting on the sofa, reading a newspaper through his gold-rimmed glasses.

Hearing the footsteps, Fu Yuting looked up briefly before returning to the news.

“Good morning,” Song Zhen said.

Fu Yuting turned to the butler. “Prepare a breakfast for him according to the nutritional chart.”

“Yes, Young Master.”

The butler was an Alpha in his late forties or early fifties, dressed in a perfectly pressed black suit with a stiff, upright posture.

Soon, a balanced breakfast was set before Song Zhen.

Whole-grain bread, mashed avocado, sugar-free yogurt, and blueberries.

It was a perfect spread of complex carbs, healthy fats, high-quality protein, and fresh fruit.

The presentation was exquisite, but Song Zhen felt full after the bread and half the blueberries.

“I’m finished,” Song Zhen told the butler.

Fu Yuting walked over then, looking down at the leftover food. He told Song Zhen, “Finish it.”

“But,” Song Zhen looked at him, looking troubled, “I’m already full.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion,” Fu Yuting said, looming over him. “If you won’t eat, the child has to.”

Song Zhen bit his lip and, under Fu Yuting’s watchful eye, forced himself to finish the rest.

His stomach felt noticeably bloated by the time he was done.

Fu Yuting was incredibly busy.

In the month Song Zhen lived in the villa, he barely saw him.

Fu Yuting always came home late and left early.

At first, the sound of the shower late at night and early in the morning disturbed Song Zhen’s rest, but eventually, he grew used to it.

He spent most of that month sleeping. But sleeping too much left his head feeling heavy and dull. Being cooped up in the villa was becoming unbearably boring, and he wanted to go for a walk.

However, he didn’t know anyone in City A, so he gave up on the idea.

The house was full of servants, but they were like robots, performing their fixed duties every day. Song Zhen tried talking to them, but no one responded.

They would only address him respectfully as “Mr. Song.”

He tried talking to the butler, but the man only answered with polite, distant brevity.

Later, he realized the servants weren’t actually that rigid; they just saved their talking for when they thought he wasn’t listening. He overheard them once.

They were gossiping about how someone like him could actually marry their Young Master, calling it the “blessing of a lifetime” and marveling at his luck in escaping the slums.

But they didn’t know that when Song Zhen married Fu Yuting, Fu Yuting had nothing. He wasn’t even fully in his right mind. Song Zhen had married him simply for the man he was.

For the past few years, Song Zhen had always been busy—busy working, busy paying off debts. He rarely had moments of idleness like this. His days became a repetitive, dull routine.

Wake up, eat breakfast, water the flowers in the garden or walk around to kill time, and then eat lunch. After lunch, he would nap. When he woke up, he’d be bored again, so he would sneak a look at the books Fu Yuting read at night. They were all in English, which he couldn’t understand at all. Then came dinner.

After dinner, he would watch TV. Every night at 8:00 PM, there was a melodramatic urban drama. It was about a poor Omega who picks up an amnesiac Alpha, only to find out the Alpha is actually the heir to a wealthy family.

The story was practically a mirror of his own life with Fu Yuting. Song Zhen watched it with rapt attention.

In the show, the Alpha didn’t lose his memories of loving the Omega. After regaining his identity, he brought the Omega home. Their current obstacle was the Alpha’s family refusing to accept him, but the couple remained deeply in love. Eventually, after many hardships, the family would give in and they would live happily ever after.

The show was only a few episodes in. Tonight’s scene featured a happy moment shortly after the Omega found the Alpha—they were in a small rented room, and the Alpha hugged the Omega from behind while he was washing dishes.

It made Song Zhen think of Song Heng.

Back then, when he was busy in the kitchen, Song Heng loved to come over and mess around just like that. Song Zhen’s eyes began to sting.

He was so focused on the screen that he didn’t hear the front door open.

Fu Yuting stood there, watching the Beta on the sofa wiping away tears. His gaze drifted to the TV, where the Omega in an apron was tilting his head to kiss the Alpha behind him.

It was a picture of warmth and happiness.

When Fu Yuting switched on the main living room lights, Song Zhen finally realized he was home. He hadn’t expected Fu Yuting back so early.

Song Zhen instinctively looked over, but when he met Fu Yuting’s eyes, he awkwardly turned away, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

Fu Yuting stared at Song Zhen’s reddened eyes for a few seconds, his brow furrowing slightly. “Keep your emotions in check. Don’t affect the child.” He then headed upstairs.

Hearing those words, the tears Song Zhen had just wiped away threatened to fall again.

The show ended shortly after, and when Song Zhen returned to the bedroom, he found Fu Yuting lying in bed reading. The Alpha’s hair was still damp; he had clearly just showered.

Song Zhen pulled back the covers and got into bed. Fu Yuting glanced at him. Song Zhen met his gaze and said, “I already showered.”

Fu Yuting looked away.

Song Zhen didn’t go to sleep immediately; he leaned against the headboard and scrolled through his phone.

He opened his social feed. It was mostly ads, with a few posts from former coworkers or old classmates—selfies, travel photos, and wedding invitations.

Song Zhen tapped on one and saw that it was the owner of the place where Song Heng used to work. He couldn’t help but complain to the person beside him: “Uncle Wu is getting married again! This is his fifth time!”

Fu Yuting’s cold gaze swept over him. Song Zhen bit his lip, remembering that the man beside him didn’t care for memories of the past.

So, Song Zhen went back to scrolling alone. He saw a post saying the noodle shop he and Song Heng used to visit frequently had closed down. Feeling dejected, he opened his mouth to say something, then immediately shut it.

He didn’t have many people on his WeChat. He tapped on his chat history with Song Heng. The very last message was from Song Heng: Gege, when are you coming back?

Song Zhen had been too busy to reply at the time. He never imagined those would be the last words Song Heng would ever leave him.

A wave of sadness washed over him again, and he couldn’t help but sniffle. Then, he heard Fu Yuting’s icy voice:

“What are you being dramatic about now?”

Fu Yuting set his book down, reached over, and forced Song Zhen’s face toward him. He stared at his reddened eyes. “Are you really crying because someone else is getting married for the fifth time?”

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