Does An Inferior Omega Also Have To Marry First, Then Fall In Love? - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Ji Qingyu Was Thinking, …

Ji Qingyu was thinking when the performance hall lights suddenly turned on. The blinding light made Ji Qingyu squint uncomfortably.

The person who walked in was Lin Feng, holding a broom. “I thought we had a burglar. What are you doing here by yourself?”

Ji Qingyu clenched his hands, stood up, and whispered, “I’m sorry, I’ll leave right away.”

Lin Feng walked over and frowned as he looked at him. Ji Qingyu was wrapped in the stage costume, like a piece of paper about to collapse. His hair hung meekly by his shoulders, and there was redness beneath his eyes.

“Kid, why don’t you come to my place for a cup of tea?” Lin Feng scratched his head. “Speaking of which, I have a kid, about your age. Whatever is bothering you, just tell me. I’ll treat you like my own child.”

Ji Qingyu lowered his head, his eyes slightly unfocused. He found himself confiding in Lin Feng for no particular reason. “Uncle, I feel like I’m not good enough. I dropped out of high school, achieved nothing, my voice is gone, my health is poor, and my reputation is terrible…”

“At least you don’t smoke or drink heavily. You have handsome features and a good moral compass, and you’re very talented,” Lin Feng lit a cigarette. Thin smoke floated up into the air. “When you meet the wrong person, just run away. It’s not a big deal.”

“I can’t run away,” Ji Qingyu said, his voice faint. “Where could I possibly run to?”

Lin Feng looked at him silently. He handed Ji Qingyu a cigarette. Ji Qingyu lit it, took a puff, and was seized by a violent fit of coughing. Lin Feng burst into laughter.

Ji Qingyu looked up at Lin Feng. Lin Feng skillfully flipped the cigarette box in his hand. He held the cigarette between two fingers while smoking. White smoke drifted in the air, swirling and dancing.

He looked a bit unkempt, his beard covering the lower half of his face, but his eyes were extraordinarily beautiful—eyes that had seen much hardship.

“Come on, kid. As long as you’re alive, everything will get better,” Lin Feng patted Ji Qingyu’s back.

It was late when Ji Qingyu got home. The whole house was dark. He assumed Fu Han was asleep and tried to be as quiet as possible.

As he passed the sofa, he noticed a dark figure sitting there silently. He didn’t know how long Fu Han had been sitting. The ashtray in front of him was stuffed with over twenty cigarette butts. The smell of nicotine was sharp and choking. Ji Qingyu was startled. Before he could speak, he heard Fu Han’s deep, terribly hoarse voice, “Ji Qingyu.”

Fu Han just sat there, not looking at him, but his presence was intimidating. The top button of his shirt was undone. His tone was seemingly calm, yet Ji Qingyu could instantly tell he was angry.

He froze in place as if stuck.

He was still wearing the costume, a moon-white qipao that beautifully outlined his figure, making him look like a young master from a noble family.

Fu Han indicated with his chin towards the space in front of him. “Come here.”

Ji Qingyu didn’t dare to utter a sound and quietly walked over. He wanted to take a shower. The coffee stains on his hair felt sticky, but Fu Han didn’t give him the chance.

He was pulled into an embrace. Fu Han pressed against his lower abdomen, seemingly listening for something, then said in a voice void of emotion, “I think I hear a heartbeat.”

Ji Qingyu found it absurd. Cold sweat broke out. He pushed Fu Han away. “How is that possible?”

“Who knows,” Fu Han sneered. “If you had our child, I would make you get rid of it.”

Fu Han seemed to have more cruel things to say, but in the end, he gave up, perhaps unsure where to start. He only said, “How can someone like you deserve to be a mother?”

Fu Han hadn’t spoken like this for just a day or two, and Ji Qingyu usually wouldn’t take it to heart or even think about it. But today was different.

He was already exhausted, tormented enough by Ji Ran, constantly worrying about Lin Ying, the stage play, the online rumors, and the inability to write new songs—so many things. Now, Fu Han had to twist the knife further.

“Someone like you would do anything to cling to power. Even if you had a child, you wouldn’t treat them well,” Fu Han’s voice was weary. “If a child had a mother like you, it would be their misfortune.”

Ji Qingyu was held captive. He opened his mouth. The moon outside the window was bright, casting a silver-gray light into the room, like a shimmering sea surface. He was a land creature trapped in the ocean, constantly experiencing suffocation and helplessness.

Did Fu Han have to be this way? Did everyone have to be this way? Who cared about how he felt? He once had a child, but Fu Han was saying he didn’t deserve one.

Ji Qingyu felt like his throat was stuffed with a wet, soft wad of cotton, neither up nor down. He couldn’t help but recall Lin Feng’s words—would living really make things better?

They would still treat him so lightly, almost cruelly and indifferently dragging Ji Qingyu back into that cage.

He didn’t want to know how long Fu Han had been sitting there or why he was in a bad mood. Whatever happened, he was just looking for a fight. Fu Han was like an iron plate, seemingly incapable of feeling pain, never showing the slightest vulnerability.

Perhaps he had no heart, but Ji Qingyu did.

He bit his tongue, tasting a little blood. The pain restored some courage. He pushed Fu Han away and walked towards the guest room.

If Fu Han wanted a child, there were plenty of people waiting outside for him. There was no need to warn him here. Having a child isn’t something he can decide alone, Ji Qingyu thought.

He entered the room and violently slammed the door shut, trying to drag himself out of the pain.

He had always been good at enduring pain, but this time, he was caught off guard by Fu Han’s sudden outburst. Fu Han was always moody, capable of being tender when he was in a good mood, and torturing him with barbed words when he wasn’t.

Ji Qingyu tried to ignore everything in his mind, using his usual method to stop thinking. He gradually fell asleep. He didn’t know how much time passed until Wang Sao knocked on the door.

“Madam, why are your clothes stained with coffee? Did you accidentally spill something at the coffee shop?” Ji Qingyu was groggy and only then remembered he had left the paper bag of clothes downstairs.

“Yes,” Ji Qingyu managed to gather some energy, though he couldn’t move. “Just leave them there. I’ll wash them tomorrow.”

“I just finished washing them for you,” Wang Sao said. “I left supper for both of you, but neither of you ate. It’s getting cold now. Stop sulking in the room and come out to eat.”

“Thank you, Wang Sao, but I won’t eat.” Ji Qingyu quickly fell back asleep. He didn’t want to think about what Fu Han wanted anymore. He wasn’t willing to cater to him.

Half-asleep, he heard the sound of a heavy door slamming from the entrance, even louder than his own. Afterward, car headlights flashed outside the window. This time, Fu Han really was gone.

Fu Han probably went back to his office or some other lover’s house. Ji Qingyu couldn’t control it, nor did he want to.

He just deeply buried himself under the covers, letting the air gradually thin. It was dark and hot under the blanket, but he felt safe in this confined space.

The next day, Ji Qingyu had his last rehearsal. He washed his face with cold water and groggily headed towards the performance hall. Wang Sao stopped him. “Madam, let the family driver take you.”

There was no precedent for this. Ji Qingyu was puzzled. “I don’t have anything important to do. Taking the bus is fine.”

“Mr. Fu said so,” Wang Sao sighed. “From now on, it’s better if someone accompanies you when you go out.”

Ji Qingyu was silent for a moment, then calmly accepted. When they reached the destination, the car drove away, and Lin Feng suddenly popped up.

“Little friend, why do you look even more spiritless than yesterday?” Lin Feng circled Ji Qingyu, closely examining his face. “I see sadness bottled up inside you. Pent-up emotions are bad for your health.”

He said this and took a cigarette from his pocket, holding it out to Ji Qingyu. “It’s a menthol crush ball one. Less strong.”

“I don’t smoke,” Ji Qingyu smiled, a little helplessly. “Uncle, you should cut back too. Nicotine is bad for your health.”

“It’s nothing,” Lin Feng said, taking it easily. “I’ll feel better after a couple of glasses of ice wine.”

Ji Qingyu cupped his hands in a gesture of respect toward Lin Feng, admitting defeat. The two of them set up the backdrop for the stage play. Ji Qingyu suddenly asked, “Uncle Lin, would you like to take on a role on stage?”

“Me?” Lin Feng was stunned. “Grimm’s Fairy Tales, it’s fine for kids to act, but what would I look like up there?”

You’d look fine, Ji Qingyu thought. You look more like a child than the kids themselves.

He handed the script to the other person. “This is a role I wrote specifically for you. There’s a solo dance segment, and the rest of the time, it won’t interfere with Nannan’s and the others’ storyline. Look, I even wrote a song for you.”

Lin Feng held the paper, examining it carefully, reading it several times. He seemed to be making a difficult decision, triple-checking that only a few dozen tickets had been sold for the performance.

Finally, he reached this difficult decision and directed Ji Qingyu, “Come on, play this part for me. I need to get the rhythm right.”

Ji Qingyu sat down and pressed the first key. It was a cheerful song. Lin Feng danced casually, the cigarette in his hand still lit. Ji Qingyu smelled a burning scent of mint.

Lin Feng had a powerful stage presence that was captivating. When he finished, Ji Qingyu asked in confusion, “Uncle Lin, why do you look so familiar to me?”

“Hey,” Lin Feng waved his hand. “I have a friendly face. Lots of people think I look familiar.”

Lin Feng seemed to remember something and asked, “Did you argue with your husband?”

“My relationship with him has never been great. It’s nothing,” Ji Qingyu didn’t dwell on it. Just then, Nannan and the others arrived, and he brought them up to run through the entire process.

Lighting, staging, and effects—everything had to be foolproof.

Lin Feng leaned closer to Ji Qingyu and asked, “So your husband won’t be coming to the performance, then?”

“Ah…” Ji Qingyu thought about it. The performance was soon, maybe a week away at most. Given the current situation, Fu Han, whose eyes were fixed on the sky, would never lower himself first.

“He won’t be coming,” Ji Qingyu said. “Uncle Lin, don’t just stand there. You’ll stand next to Nannan. Oh, and you have a few lines too.”

Rehearsal ended smoothly and incredibly quickly that afternoon. As Ji Qingyu returned home, he saw Fu Han’s car just leaving. Wang Sao was at the door seeing him off.

Ji Qingyu walked over and looked back at the car, which was shrinking into a small dot. “Didn’t he say he wouldn’t be back for a while?”

“Oh, it’s a long story,” Wang Sao sighed. “The anniversary of the old Master’s wife’s passing is coming up. Every year around this time, Mr. Fu takes her things away beforehand, then turns off his phone for the next few days. No one can reach him.”

“The first time he did this, it scared us half to death,” Wang Sao said. “The whole family looked for him for three days and three nights, thinking he’d been kidnapped. But on the third night, he came back as if nothing had happened. The Master had a huge fight with him. Oh, it was a big scene. Their relationship has been more strained ever since…”

Ji Qingyu could barely imagine where Fu Han was going with those things, perhaps to find a place to lick his wounds alone.

The performance was in a few days. Ji Qingyu took out his phone and opened the chat window with Fu Han. It was the usual solid black profile picture. He wondered whether he should remind Fu Han again. He hesitated for a long time, typed a line of text in the conversation box, and held his finger suspended over the send button, unable to press it.