After the Corporate Slave Beta and the Top Alpha Married - Chapter 16

Over the past two days, Ji Yu had watched all sorts of television dramas. After his head began to spin from the binge-watching, he temporarily gave up. During this time, he also met the domestic helper who came regularly to clean.

The lady came once every two days, specifically on the days avoiding Saturday and Sunday, which was why Ji Yu had never met her before. Except for the study—which required no cleaning and was off-limits—she would meticulously clean, organize, and restock daily necessities throughout the rest of the house.

“Xiao Yu, are you watching TV again?” The helper was a slightly plump middle-aged woman named Mrs. Ren. She was also a Beta and had a kind, squinty-eyed smile that felt very approachable.

Ji Yu shook his head, turned off the TV, and stood up. “I’m done watching. Let me help you, Auntie Ren.”

Mrs. Ren shook her head repeatedly. “That won’t do! Not only are you the employer’s family, but you’re still wearing a cast.”

As she wiped the glass, she chattered away: “When you’re injured, you need to rest well to recover quickly. Though, if I may say so, Xiao Yu, you really should go out more for some fresh air. Look at you, cooped up in the house all day—it’s enough to make anyone stir-crazy.”

Receiving no response from behind her, Mrs. Ren turned around to find Ji Yu standing still, looking at her with a nostalgic expression, lost in thought.

Mrs. Ren gave a sheepish smile. “Look at me, I’m so used to lecturing my own children at home. Xiao Yu, don’t take it to heart.”

Coming back to his senses, Ji Yu noticed her nervousness and smiled gently. “You’re right. I should go out for a walk.”

“That’s the spirit! But be careful on the road—don’t let anyone bump into your arm.” Having received his validation, Mrs. Ren began to laugh happily again.

Ji Yu said nothing more. He grabbed his keys and headed out.

Today was Thursday. Since it was during working hours, Ji Yu chose not to take a taxi but headed for the light rail instead. He was used to being frugal; unless necessary, he would save whenever he could.

The light rail was just as Ji Yu expected: sparse crowds and plenty of seats.

Traveling from the bustling city center to the sparsely populated suburbs, Ji Yu finally stopped in front of a flower shop.

The shop owner was somewhat surprised to see him and quickly smiled. “It’s you! You haven’t been here in a while. How did you end up in a cast?”

“I had a careless fall,” Ji Yu replied briefly. His concise explanation was a far cry from the long-winded, emotional performances he gave at the company.

The owner asked, “The usual?”

“Yes.” Ji Yu’s expression turned somewhat faint as he took out his phone and paid immediately.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, he took the flowers from the owner with one hand. After a short walk, he arrived at the cemetery.

The sun was not harsh, and the sky was a washed-out azure. A gentle breeze brushed against the hem of Ji Yu’s clothes, blowing bright yellow petals onto the black base of a tombstone.

The black-and-white photograph showed a kind, smiling old lady. She was the Ji family’s former nanny.

During the long years of being ignored by his family since childhood, it was because of her that Ji Yu hadn’t become withdrawn or depressed, or turned into a hysterical madman.

To Ji Yu, she was more like a grandmother—the only one in that house who truly loved him.

Unfortunately, Grandma Li had resigned during his middle school years because she was too old to handle the work. She should have left much earlier, but she had delayed it time and again because she couldn’t stop worrying about Ji Yu.

It wasn’t until high school that Ji Yu found out she had fallen ill.

He had tried every possible way to save money—living frugally, running errands for classmates, doing their homework. He did almost anything for money: defying school rules to sell snacks, cigarettes, and alcohol in the dorms, selling forged hall passes, and taking the blame for classmates in exchange for cash.

Berlin High School was filled with wealthy students, and Ji Yu earned quite a bit through these schemes. He didn’t keep a single cent for himself, handing it all over to Grandma Li’s family.

Even when her family told him they would take care of her and urged him to focus on his studies, Ji Yu never stopped.

He just wanted to do something for the woman who gave him his “second life.”

Once he reached university, he squeezed out time for various part-time jobs. All that money was poured into one surgery after another, but in the end, they were powerless against fate. Grandma Li passed away during Ji Yu’s sophomore year.

Ji Yu crouched before the tombstone and set the bouquet down. Suddenly, a memory surfaced.

Back in high school, someone had offered him 50,000 yuan to humiliate Shang Yuanzhou, who had failed his “differentiation” (the secondary gender presentation process).

At the time, Ji Yu had hesitated. 50,000 yuan—all he had to do was say a few words and secretly record Shang Yuanzhou’s reaction, and the money would be his easily.

Or, he could have approached Shang Yuanzhou secretly and asked if he was willing to act out a scene. Shang Yuanzhou was an illegitimate son, so he likely wasn’t very wealthy.

He had actually gone there. He had stood right in front of Shang Yuanzhou.

He had seen Shang Yuanzhou’s blood-stained hands and the mottled bloodstains on the jagged rockery. The shadows of the rocks shrouded Shang Yuanzhou, making the teenage boy look as if he were about to melt into the darkness.

The words at the tip of his tongue took an unexpected turn; he didn’t even manage to ask about the “acting” plan.

For the first time, he had bared his heart to an unfamiliar classmate. Failing to differentiate almost guaranteed becoming a Beta. To humiliate Shang Yuanzhou would have been to hate himself for being a Beta. The reason he changed his mind was likely that he didn’t want to negate his own existence as a Beta, even if it meant telling a lie.

Ji Yu smiled, deciding that if he had the chance when he got back, he would tell Shang Yuanzhou about this.

He wondered if the man still remembered.

The dense rows of tombstones in the cemetery felt like a massive sepulcher. The sky was blue, but the ground was paved in a solemn, desolate black by the monuments. The bright yellow chrysanthemums became the only flash of color in this place.

The lean young man sat down right against the side of the tombstone. Tilting his head, he leaned his shoulder gently against the cold black stone. His arm in the cast hung before him, but his eyes were closed as if he had fallen asleep.

“Grandma, today when I brought the pudding to my brother, he knocked it over and told me to get lost. That little bunny pudding was given to us by the teacher; everyone only got one. They all said it was delicious, but Brother didn’t seem to like it.”

Little “Xiao Yu’er,” not even as tall as a table, held the smashed, dusty, misshapen pudding in his hands. He stroked the barely recognizable bunny ears with lingering affection, large tears welling in his eyes.

“Grandma, why do Daddy and my brothers dislike me? Did I do something wrong?”

“Mom doesn’t like me either, but she’ll scold me and talk to me. But now, Mom won’t pay attention to me at all.”

“Grandma, was I not supposed to be born?”

Crouched in a corner, the tiny Xiao Yu’er’s expression was numb and vacant.

In his memory, the kind Grandma Li would make him a new bunny pudding and coax him into eating it. She would pick him up from the corner and tell him he was the loveliest child in the world.

The young Ji Yu would lean against Grandma Li’s shoulder and slowly fall asleep, time and time after again.

Until a cold tombstone replaced that warm shoulder.

Every time Ji Yu came, he thought he would have much to say, but he always ended up in silence. He would sit with Grandma Li in silence for a while, and then leave in silence.

By the time Ji Yu returned home, the helper had already left. He was feeling a bit brain-dead from the TV dramas, and with one arm in a sling, he had nothing to do.

He decided to search for documentaries on the TV instead.

When Shang Yuanzhou returned, the screen was showing a mother Tibetan antelope with her baby.

The shift from the “innocent little wife of a domineering CEO” dramas to Into the Wild: Tibetan Antelopes was so drastic that Shang Yuanzhou didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Why are you watching this?” he asked while changing his shoes.

It was natural, like an old married couple who had lived together for a long time, chatting about mundane things.

Ji Yu replied, “Just changing my headspace.”

“Documentaries can be very calming,” Ji Yu pointed to a heartwarming scene on the screen. “Actually, these shots are very difficult to capture.”

“Wild antelopes are very sensitive and extremely afraid of humans. If you get even slightly close, they’ll sense it and run away.”

“To film them grazing, you might have to wake up at four or five in the morning and hide before they arrive. The photographer can’t actively approach the animals; they have to wait where the animals frequent. If luck isn’t on your side, you might film nothing all day.”

Shang Yuanzhou looked at him. “Do you like photography?”

Ji Yu rarely spoke this much on his own initiative or mentioned his interests. What Shang Yuanzhou actually wanted to ask was: Are you in a bad mood?

“It’s alright,” Ji Yu brushed it off and brought up something else. “I remembered today that back in high school, I approached you and said some strange things. Originally, someone had offered me money to go and mock you for failing your differentiation.”

“I don’t know if you still remember.”

He paused, remembering something important.

With his eyes curving into a smile, Ji Yu spoke: “By the way, it’s been so long, but I haven’t congratulated you on your successful differentiation.”

Shang Yuanzhou couldn’t bring himself to smile.

At the class reunion half a month ago, when the two of them were alone on the rooftop, he was the one who had brought up what Ji Yu said in high school.

It had only been half a month, yet Ji Yu was asking him if he remembered.

If anyone else had brought up high school again, Shang Yuanzhou would have assumed they were trying to leverage old ties or social climb.

But because it was Ji Yu, Shang Yuanzhou knew that he had truly forgotten what was said at the reunion—and that he didn’t care about the events of high school at all.

Ji Yu had probably run into someone or something while out today that jogged his memory.

Looking at the smiling face before him, Shang Yuanzhou wanted to ask if his affairs were really so unworthy of being cared about.

Even if it were just words from an ordinary friend, one should have some impression after only two weeks—especially in such a specific setting as a private moment during a reunion.

It was as if Ji Yu possessed a massive sense of “bluntness.” No matter who said what, he could easily toss it to the back of his mind.

Or rather, was he not even considered an “ordinary friend” to Ji Yu?

Who in this world could actually be someone Ji Yu cared about?

It felt like a heavy block of ice pressing against Shang Yuanzhou’s chest. Every heartbeat struck against that ice; the melting water left him both freezing and boiling with frustration.

He curled his lips into a smile and listened to himself speak like an onlooker: “Is that so? I really don’t remember.”

Ji Yu continued talking about something. He was likely in a truly bad mood and needed to find conversation to distract himself, but Shang Yuanzhou could no longer stay in the living room.

He couldn’t stay, and he couldn’t keep up the act.

“I still have work to do. Have your dinner and get some rest early.”