Distorted Fairy Tale - Chapter 9

When Fu Yuting saw the words “You have been kicked out of the room by the streamer” flash across his screen, his face darkened instantly. He slammed his phone onto his mahogany desk with a violent thud.

Assistant Lin, standing nearby, jumped in fright.

The butler had informed Fu Yuting long ago about Song Zhen’s cake-baking livestreams. At the time, Fu Yuting had been indifferent toward the news.

However, he happened to see an advertisement for the platform one day. Deciding that the livestreaming industry was showing strong momentum and deserved a thorough investigation of its operational model, he downloaded the app under the guise of diversifying the Fu Group’s portfolio.

As luck would have it, he stumbled upon Song Zhen’s channel and decided to take a look.

Finding that the stream wasn’t overly noisy, Fu Yuting began leaving it on in the background as white noise while he worked. To his surprise, it actually improved his efficiency.

To maintain this peak productivity, he felt “forced” to keep Song Zhen’s stream running whenever he was in the office.

He had been doing this for a month.

His account, “Wang Xing,” which had a completely blank profile, acted like a bot—joining the second Song Zhen started and staying until the very end.

Then, for some unknown reason, Song Zhen suddenly started showing his face. The comment section exploded with bold and suggestive remarks.

What irritated Fu Yuting most was that Song Zhen seemed to enjoy it. He would offer a sweet smile to one viewer, then another—was this how a married man was supposed to behave?

And the things these people were saying were absolute nonsense. For example:

“Streamer, can I call you Mommy?” —Absolutely not. I have no interest in being a father to a stranger.

“The streamer is so beautiful when he smiles. I have a wedding I’d like to attend with you.” —Heh. Bigamy is a crime.

“The streamer’s lips are so pretty—red, full, and pouty. I really want to kiss them, hehehe…” —Full, are they? That’s because I kissed them swollen last night.

Fu Yuting finally reached his limit. These people were a mess. Out of the “goodness of his heart,” he posted: Can you stop smiling? It looks terrible.

When Song Zhen ignored him, he followed up with what he considered a helpful reminder: The stream was better when you didn’t show your face. Why did you suddenly start doing it?

And then, he was kicked out.

It was a classic case of no good deed going unpunished.

Since the platform linked one ID card to a single account, and he had been blacklisted, Fu Yuting couldn’t re-enter Song Zhen’s room without a new profile.

Fu Yuting’s face remained thunderous for the rest of the afternoon. Assistant Lin worked with extreme caution; ever since the mishap where he failed to bring Song Zhen home, Lin Ze had been handling every task with surgical precision, terrified of another mistake.

“Come here,” Fu Yuting commanded, waving Lin Ze over in the middle of signing documents.

“Yes, President Fu. What are your instructions?” Lin Ze asked nervously.

“Do you have an account on the XX platform?”

Lin Ze blinked, confused as to why his boss was asking, but he trusted that Fu Yuting always had a reason.

“I do,” Lin Ze replied.

“Give me the login. I need to borrow it.”

Song Zhen received a message from Ji Qinglin during lunch on a Sunday.

Fu Yuting actually stayed home for once. The two sat across from each other at the dining table like an awkward, long-divorced couple, eating in silence.

Suddenly, Song Zhen’s phone vibrated on the table.

Fu Yuting’s hand paused in mid-air. He glanced at the phone and saw a chat notification pop up at the bottom of the screen.

Song Zhen picked up the phone. A message had arrived from someone who had been sitting in his contact list for quite some time:

Ji Qinglin: Finally finished with work!

Ji Qinglin: Benefactor, let’s go out for dinner this afternoon!

Ji Qinglin: [Sticker of a puppy bouncing around]

Song Zhen knew that if he didn’t let the man treat him to a meal, Ji Qinglin would never let it go. If he accepted, the debt would be settled and they could move on.

He typed back: Okay.

Ji Qinglin: [Sticker of a golden retriever puppy cheering]

The puppy in the sticker was a chubby little Golden Retriever, so cute it could melt anyone’s heart.

It reminded Song Zhen of the dog owned by the boss of the restaurant where he used to work.

That little puppy was a ball of fluff, but Song Heng—oddly enough—was terrified of dogs, even a tiny pup like that.

Sometimes, when Song Heng finished moving freight early, he would go to the restaurant to wait for Song Zhen. Song Zhen would often see him hiding behind the large tree outside the restaurant, peeking out to engage in a staring contest with the puppy sitting by the door.

If the puppy tried to play and bounced toward him, Song Heng would be so spooked he’d start running around the tree.

The more he ran, the more the puppy thought it was a game, chasing him even faster.

Song Zhen would come out from work to find a man and a dog performing a slapstick routine around a tree.

Thinking of this, Song Zhen’s lips curled into a gentle smile. He saved the sticker.

The smile lingered even after he put the phone down, but the moment he caught Fu Yuting’s eye, his expression flattened.

Fu Yuting spoke up casually, “Who are you messaging?”

“A friend,” Song Zhen replied tonelessly, looking back down at his food.

“So you actually have friends,” Fu Yuting let out a cold laugh.

How long had this Beta been in City A? He spent nearly all his time at home. Where could he have possibly made a friend? Probably some “good friend” he just met in his livestream chat.

At that thought, Fu Yuting’s expression soured.

The sarcasm in his voice made Song Zhen incredibly uncomfortable. He felt like he had heard that tone somewhere before—it was oddly familiar.

To Song Zhen, Fu Yuting was deliberately humiliating him. It sounded like a sneer: How could a Beta from the slums have friends in a city like this?

Song Zhen pressed his lips together, set down his half-finished bowl of rice, and stood up. “I’m full.”

As Song Zhen tried to walk past, Fu Yuting grabbed his wrist. It felt so thin that it seemed like a little bit of pressure could snap it.

Fu Yuting frowned and said sternly, “Finish your food.”

Song Zhen truly didn’t understand what Fu Yuting wanted from him.

If he truly looked down on him, he shouldn’t have brought him back. But once he was here, Fu Yuting had spent a month ignoring him as if he couldn’t stand the sight of him.

Fine. Song Zhen had accepted that his past hopes were nothing but a fool’s dream.

He had given up. He had accepted his fate.

They would get divorced, and their paths would never cross again. Song Zhen would act as if Song Heng were dead, or as if he had never saved the man in the first place.

The noble Young Master Fu would remain in the bustling City A, while the low-born Beta would return to the crumbling slums.

Since they were as different as clouds and mud, it was better to separate sooner rather than later, before the “noble cloud” was stained by the “filthy mud.”

So why wouldn’t Fu Yuting even give him the freedom to stop eating?

Was it because he was pregnant? Was he forced to swallow food he had no appetite for, despite his severe morning sickness, just to satisfy Fu Yuting’s whims?

Furious from the earlier sarcasm, Song Zhen snapped. He yanked his hand away with a sharp slap.

“I said I’m full! Why are you forcing me to keep eating!?”

Song Zhen was usually the most easy-going person imaginable; it was rare for him to flare up or talk back like this.

“Look at yourself. You’re skin and bones,” Fu Yuting said coldly. “Do you think not eating is good for the child?”

The child. Song Zhen knew it. It was always about the child.

Only the child.

“Yes, the baby needs nutrients. But what about me?” Song Zhen’s eyes flushed a faint pink as he tried to keep his voice steady. “I’m trying my best to eat more every day. I’ve been forcing myself to finish every meal the nutritionist prepares, but do you even know that I feel like throwing up every time? I really can’t eat another bite today. Can’t I just have a break?”

Ever since he got pregnant, eating had become a chore—a grueling task that required serious effort.

Song Zhen bit his lip, staring stubbornly at Fu Yuting. He tried to hide his emotions, but his bloodshot eyes betrayed him.

Even though Song Zhen was standing and Fu Yuting was sitting, the Alpha’s presence was still overwhelmingly suffocating.

He stared straight at Song Zhen, wondering why the hell he was being so “wronged” again.

Fu Yuting said with a cold face, “If you feel like vomiting, why didn’t you tell the doctor or the nutritionist? Who told you to force yourself through the discomfort? The whole point of hiring a nutritionist was to improve your health. What good is it if you throw it all back up!”

“Butler!” Fu Yuting barked. “Get that nutritionist in here now!”

The investigation revealed a shocking truth.

This “nutritionist” didn’t even have a valid license.

He had been recommended by a shareholder in Fu Yuting’s company. Supposedly, the shareholder’s wife had been in great health throughout her pregnancy under this man’s care, and the baby had been born healthy and strong.

Relying on that recommendation, Fu Yuting hadn’t bothered with a deep background check.

Further digging revealed that the nutritionist and the shareholder’s wife were actually having an affair.

Of course her pregnancy state was good—she was spending it with her lover. It was even debatable whose child it actually was.

The shareholder was 45, while the wife was only 21—practically old enough to be her father.

After coming to the Fu house, the nutritionist saw that Fu Yuting was always busy and rarely ate at home. He assumed Fu Yuting didn’t care about Song Zhen.

Seeing that Song Zhen was just a “clueless Beta” from the slums who followed every instruction, the nutritionist grew greedy and began embezzling the funds Fu Yuting provided.

At first, he had at least looked up recipes online to maintain a facade, but eventually, he just started winging it.

He served Song Zhen whatever he felt like—high-fat, high-sugar foods in random combinations. No wonder the man felt nauseous.

After all that effort, Song Zhen hadn’t gained any weight and actually looked more frail.

If Fu Yuting hadn’t caught it today, who knows what health complications would have arisen.

Fu Yuting narrowed his eyes at the nutritionist, who was now kneeling on the floor. His gaze was that of a top-tier Alpha, and the pressure was so intense that the nutritionist—a low-level Alpha—felt his chest tighten, struggling for breath.

Fu Yuting began to release his oppressive pheromones. The nutritionist couldn’t even stay upright; he collapsed to his side, drenched in a cold sweat.

“President… President Fu, I was wrong. I was wrong! Please, have mercy…”

Seeing Fu Yuting remained unmoved, the man turned to the gentler Song Zhen. “Mr. Song!” He lunged forward and grabbed Song Zhen’s leg, startling him. “Mr. Song, I was wrong! I truly know I was wrong! Please, you’re a kind soul, forgive me!”

Song Zhen bit his lip. While the man looked pitiful now, the thought that he had potentially endangered both his and the baby’s health made him cold. He pulled his foot away without a word.

“Go talk to Fu Yuting.”

Fu Yuting whispered a few instructions to Lin Ze, who then had the staff tie up the nutritionist and drag him away.

The drama over, only Fu Yuting and Song Zhen remained on the sofa in the living room.

Song Zhen hesitated for a long time before finally leaning in toward Fu Yuting, his curiosity getting the better of him. “What did you say to Lin Ze just now?”

“Nothing much,” Fu Yuting replied with a cold smirk. “Just sending him back to where he came from.”

“After all, we shouldn’t overstep when it comes to someone else’s family business.”

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