Does An Inferior Omega Also Have To Marry First, Then Fall In Love? - Chapter 35

Chapter 35: What Do You Want To Ask?…

“What do you want to ask?” Ji Qingyu felt a sharp pain begin in his lower abdomen. “If I told you I’ve never used this phone to take a single photo or recording, would you believe me?”

Fu Han remained silent, his hand still kneading the back of Ji Qingyu’s neck. Then, abruptly, his hand clamped down on Ji Qingyu’s throat, and Ji Qingyu let out a choked cry of pain.

“Are you taking me for a fool?” Fu Han said. “Do you still think I’m like I was back then, someone you can trick with one sentence? That I’ll be used by you again?”

Ji Qingyu stopped speaking. Discussing the past with Fu Han would only lead to a breakdown. He trembled, looking at the aggressive Alpha before him, the last sliver of tenderness shattered.

“You’re collaborating with others to scheme against me. This cooperation is the most crucial step in opening up the overseas A-country market. What condition did you exchange with them?” Seeing Ji Qingyu remain silent, Fu Han pinched his chin, forcing him to look up. “Are you convinced that I can’t do anything to you?”

“Ji Qingyu, in your heart, everything is more important than me. A tiny bit of self-interest is enough for you to abandon me. You are always like this.” Fu Han sighed almost inaudibly. His hand gripped Ji Qingyu’s neck, holding him in place, and his sharp teeth came dangerously close.

“Fu Han!”

A strong, almost debilitating fear swept over Ji Qingyu. His body involuntarily trembled. He absolutely could not be marked again.

“I clearly have a method that would solve this once and for all. If I just bite down, you would have no choice but to be subservient to me from now on. So why would I keep letting you go again and again?” Fu Han gave a dangerous smile, cold as a venomous snake coiled around Ji Qingyu’s body.

“It’s true that I was asked to photograph the documents, but I didn’t do it. I didn’t!” Ji Qingyu pushed Fu Han away with all his might, a pure survival instinct born of fear—fear of sinking back into the torment of pheromones, fear of the agonizing repeated heat cycles of the past six years.

“You didn’t do it because you didn’t get the chance, did you?” Fu Han’s tone was cold and arrogant. The tattoo on his body was some kind of ferocious beast that Ji Qingyu didn’t recognize, just as he had never truly recognized Fu Han himself.

He felt his throat constrict, his eyes wide. He stared at the Alpha.

The house was cold. Outside, a flying bird soared, passing through the clouds, with only the last faint afterglow of the sun remaining.

He didn’t understand why Fu Han had so little trust in him. What did Fu Han truly think of him? A liar, a selfish bastard? Was he really that worthless?

He opened his mouth, suddenly feeling a deep sense of injustice, more intense than all previous instances combined, harder to bear than the six years of anguish.

He heard his own voice, light and airy, suspended in the air like a detached phantom: “Will you not believe anything I say?”

Fu Han smiled, arrogant and cruel: “What do you think?”

Ji Qingyu felt truly foolish. He had actually considered entrusting his mother’s and his child’s lives entirely to this person, thinking that an embrace meant trust could be established. For a few brief moments, he had wanted to fight for them again.

The baseless illusion of their youth, like a fragile bubble, was ultimately destined to shatter and melt away. Perhaps it had all been self-deception from the very beginning.

He could still see the Alpha from eighteen years ago, watching him by the library window, the wind blowing through the white curtains and lifting his hair. Such a beautiful face.

Ji Qingyu felt utterly exhausted. He used every last bit of his strength to shove the other man away. Unprepared, Fu Han lost his balance, knocking over the things on the table. The entire desk tilted, and everything on it crashed to the floor, scattered and broken.

“Are you done making a scene?!” Fu Han tilted his head, paused for two seconds, and reached out to grab Ji Qingyu. His sharp, pointed fangs were exposed, and he emitted an overwhelmingly oppressive scent of plum blossom.

Ji Qingyu backed away a few steps, quickly leaned over, and grabbed the tattoo knife from the floor. His voice was trembling and exceptionally sharp: “Don’t come near me.”

His face was pale, his eyes wide, and he was as thin as a sheet of paper, his features almost merging with the twilight. Everything was dim and cold. Only his eyes were intensely bright, a frightening brilliance.

Ji Qingyu rarely had such moments of breakdown. The muscles in his calves were tight, and he gripped the knife—which could barely cause harm—with both hands…

Tears streamed uncontrollably down his face.

Fu Han looked at Ji Qingyu’s expression. Perhaps it was because Ji Qingyu was crying so miserably that he briefly halted. A silence fell between the two.

Then, Fu Han let out a cold laugh, ignored the harmless little knife, pinned Ji Qingyu down, and forcefully pressed him against the wall. Ji Qingyu was crying, but Fu Han disregarded the trembling and the screams, lowered his head, aimed for Ji Qingyu’s neck, and bit down. Fiercely, without a single moment of hesitation, as if mercilessly biting a trivial prey.

The small, sharp blade cut a long gash on Fu Han’s arm, but he paid it no mind. He injected his pheromones even more intensely into the other’s scent gland.

Ji Qingyu’s hand was wedged between them. He couldn’t push him away. For a moment, he even thought of stabbing the sharp object he held. Ji Qingyu was tear-streaked and sobbing. This was the most severely he had ever cried in front of Fu Han. He didn’t know why he was crying, only that he was incredibly sad, so sad that he felt he was going to die.

A massive rush of pheromones flooded into Ji Qingyu’s neck. Fu Han held him firmly. Ji Qingyu tightly clenched Fu Han’s back, leaving distinct bloody scratch marks.

He wanted to say, Fu Han, we have a child. He wanted to tell him, but you always doubt me. If I told you, you would surely kill that child without hesitation, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t allow this child to come into the world, would you?

He wanted to say, Why do I have to bear the consequences for things I didn’t even do? Why do I have to endure all of this? Why won’t anyone love me? Why have I always been alone?

Why, exactly?

Is it because I’m really terrible? Is it because my personality is dull and boring? Did I really do something wrong? Otherwise, why would I be treated so cruelly?

Even he himself was no longer sure.

He struggled desperately, resisting. Fu Han nearly lost control of him and had to let go. The scent of rain and plum blossom mingled. Even though the temporary mark was not fully completed, Ji Qingyu still felt like a slave branded with a postmark.

His heart completely died. Something was stripped away from his body. He heard his own voice, muffled and flat, without any fluctuation: “Fu Han, let’s end this. You don’t trust me. Continuing to drag this out is meaningless.”

Fu Han lowered his head. His body tattoos were vicious, and his voice was even more vicious. He said, “You wish.”

Ji Qingyu didn’t react, speaking coldly: “I’ve had enough. I said I’ve had enough.”

I’m tired of being suspected, of being accused of crimes I didn’t commit. I’m tired of every time I build up a little false tenderness, I have to repay it with ten or a hundred times the amount of compromise.

Ji Qingyu numbly stood up. He needed to be as far away from Fu Han as possible, but Fu Han suddenly grabbed his hand, his voice betraying a hint of unnoticed tension, his eyes fixed intensely on Ji Qingyu, filled with an unmelting rage: “What do you mean? Do you think you have a choice?”

Ji Qingyu smiled, prying open Fu Han’s hand bit by bit. His forced calm finally cracked. Even his lips were trembling. He tried his best to control himself, unwilling to show even a shred of weakness in front of Fu Han again. He was not a strong person, but he had a child, and he had to force himself to become strong…

Ji Qingyu struggled to shake off Fu Han, pulled his coat and scarf from the door, grabbed the suppressant patch from the table, pushed the door open, and ran outside.

Fu Han’s voice came from behind: “If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back.”

Ji Qingyu slammed the door shut.

He felt like he was suffocating and couldn’t stop for a moment. His knees were shaking, and he could barely stand after a few steps. Before, he could push those emotions to the back of his mind, but he didn’t want his child to carry those emotions like he did.

It was a cold autumn day. Ji Qingyu walked alone from the mountainside to the foot of the mountain. The shallow remnants of the setting sun spread over him, a warmth that felt like an illusion.

He didn’t know how long he walked before he finally stopped by the roadside. He hailed a taxi, told the driver he needed to go to the hospital, and, feeling utterly exhausted, he lowered his head and buried himself in his clothes. The coat was too thin. He curled up, suddenly feeling profoundly lonely.

He was the one who had decided to leave, so why was he so sad?

He closed his eyes. The taxi was stuck in heavy traffic.

People rushed by. He looked out the window. Everyone was anxious to get home, but he was still all alone. Where was his home? He had no strength left to think about it.

The hospital was the same as always: left out of the subway exit, up a slope, and then the patient ward area. Lin Ying was on the top floor. Ji Qingyu stepped on a small pebble and nearly twisted his ankle.

He kicked the small pebble away, comforting himself: It’s okay. It will all pass.

He had a child, he had a new life, and Lin Ying was getting better. It was just Fu Han’s attitude. He had known this all along, and he didn’t need him that much anyway.

The hallway was quiet at night, devoid of people. Ji Qingyu planned to sit by Lin Ying’s hospital room door for a while. As he reached the corner, he overheard doctors talking in low voices.

“How can that work? No, it won’t work. Why do the surgery? Didn’t Ji Ran say to keep him stable… I don’t know, those affairs of theirs are none of our business. What can we do? We’ll say he needs to rest after the surgery, and just drag it out.”

“This child is pitiful, too. I’ve seen him sleeping in the chair outside the door many times. He must have a close relationship with his mother.”

“What’s it to you… just do your own job. People die in the hospital every day. Can you sympathize with all of them? If you must blame someone, blame his bad luck.”

Ji Qingyu blinked. What does that mean? He didn’t understand.

“How long can we hide it? That tumor is almost pressing on the nerves. There aren’t many days left.” The doctor was still young and couldn’t hold his composure.

What does that mean?

Ji Qingyu’s hand rested on the door. He wanted to go in and ask for clarification but lacked the courage. He covered his face, unable to catch his breath.

He curled up on the hospital corridor floor. The cold air was sharp and powerful. He felt his limbs turn icy cold, and the last ray of light in the world abandoned him.