Does An Inferior Omega Also Have To Marry First, Then Fall In Love? - Chapter 39

Chapter 39: Lin Ying Passed Away

Lin Ying passed away on a quiet afternoon, with Ji Qingyu by her side alone.

He was most familiar with this area of the east city. He grew up here. It was quiet and beautiful, with green grass and fields. Going up the hill, there were lush trees, the sound of birds, and the fresh scent of rain. A quiet morning mist enveloped the entire hillside, thick and green, though a third of the autumn vegetation had already turned yellow.

Ji Qingyu looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. The halo was blurry and beautiful, casting streaks of white light through the mountains. Ji Qingyu followed the stone steps up, rounded a corner, and reached a quiet, peaceful clearing.

It was a cemetery. Not many people bought plots here because it was remote and inconvenient to get to.

Ji Qingyu buried Lin Ying next to her first child, at the easternmost plot. The process wasn’t complicated. The cemetery attendant saw him and came over to chat.

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Oh right, I saw you on TV some time ago. You won some big important award, didn’t you?”

“I’ve been too busy recently.” Ji Qingyu looked to the side. The flowers on the tombstone were already a bit wilted. He looked at the bouquets in the plastic bucket next to the attendant: “Are those flowers for sale?”

“Yes, freshly picked from the mountain.”

Ji Qingyu bought all the flowers and placed them in front of the stone marker. He then touched the texture of the stone. The sky was faintly overcast, but the air was fresh and quite comfortable. It wasn’t too cold today.

Ji Qingyu sat by the tombstone for a while and vaguely drifted off to sleep. When he woke up, it was already dusk. Ji Qingyu leaned against the tombstone, gazing up at the sunset. He shifted slightly to make sure he wasn’t blocking Lin Ying’s view.

He stayed there in a daze, keeping company with Lin Ying and his first child. When his legs felt numb, he changed position. He kept his eyes open, and when he felt tired, he lay down on the grass beside them. He was unkempt and sloppy, but he was too weary to care. Perhaps it was due to the pregnancy, but he often zoned out and had been increasingly sleepy lately.

Dirt clung to his body and hair. The painful events repeated themselves like a film in front of him, again and again.

Ji Qingyu felt a deep sorrow. He seemed incapable of doing anything right, of holding onto anything. Now, even this farewell was rushed, unable to be said properly.

When he returned, Wang Sao was busy preparing something. Decorations were put up around the house, and Wang Sao was placing newly bought champagne on the table.

“Madam, didn’t you win an award? Mr. Fu said he’s hosting a celebration banquet for you,” Wang Sao said happily.

“We already celebrated,” Ji Qingyu said. “We celebrated quite late that day.”

“It’s not the same! We haven’t congratulated you yet! More importantly, Madam, Mr. Fu’s birthday is coming up soon. He was the one who suggested combining his birthday and the celebration banquet.”

Is that so.

What a coincidence. He was leaving.

Ma Yu was going to Jiang City, and Ji Qingyu planned to leave with Ma Yu’s car. He didn’t have many belongings; everything packed perfectly into one suitcase.

“His birthday is tomorrow, right?” Ji Qingyu said, picking up the whisk next to him to help Wang Sao mix the cream. The white foam quickly became fluffy. He scooped the foam into a cake mold. He decorated it with raspberries and other toppings, then helped Wang Sao with other chores.

“Yes. Speaking of which, he never used to celebrate his birthday. I don’t know what’s gotten into him this time. It seems settling down changes a person,” Wang Sao commented.

Ji Qingyu watched Wang Sao silently for a few moments.

“What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face?” Wang Sao joked with a smile.

“No,” Ji Qingyu smiled back. “I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of me all this time.”

“Nonsense,” Wang Sao didn’t take it seriously, thinking Ji Qingyu was just saying it casually, but she couldn’t help but say a little more. “Madam, you are too polite. Start thinking of yourself as the mistress of this house. All your things are only kept in the second bedroom; you don’t put them anywhere else. Since you arrived, Mr. Fu has brought quite a few things into the house.”

Ji Qingyu offered an embarrassed smile.

The cake turned out pretty well. Ji Qingyu tasted a bit. It wasn’t too sweet, just the way he knew Fu Han would like it.

At night, he huddled under the covers, forgetting to silence his phone. He was woken up by the vibration in the middle of the night. Opening it, he saw a message from Luo Sheng, who had sent him a photo of his award: “Xiaoyu, that’s wonderful! Congratulations!”

Ji Qingyu was groggy, his eyes half-closed as he typed a reply: “Uncle, do you want to perform again? I might keep writing stage plays later. If you’d like…”

“Forget it, I can’t show my face,” Luo Sheng replied. “We need to keep in touch in the future. Come visit me often, Xiaoyu.”

“…” Ji Qingyu didn’t reply. His eyes opened wider. He suddenly realized that he might never be able to perform on the same stage with Luo Sheng again.

He got up, covered his face, and finally felt a pang of sadness. He had lived in this city for so long, but too much pain remained, and happy memories were becoming increasingly blurred.

Although parting hurt a little, he had to say goodbye.

The joke that fate played on him when he was eighteen had to end now. He was going somewhere warmer to sleep well and live well.

Ji Qingyu blinked. The cake in front of him suddenly became a little blurry. He returned to his room, unable to stand any longer, and crouched down.

The mountains outside the window were still vast and high, with flocks of birds. Ji Qingyu silently walked into the study, took down Fu Han’s sketchpad, and on the last page, next to the white bird representing Luo Sheng, he drew an even smaller white bird—not very pretty, just a crooked little one.

Fu Han was so cold and proud, but sometimes Ji Qingyu would wonder if he needed companionship too.

But he couldn’t stay. He had to go. Perhaps there was no fate between them. His landing spot wasn’t beside Fu Han.

The next day, everyone gathered—mostly the Fu family servants. They sang “Happy Birthday” several times. After the celebrations, only the two of them were left.

Fu Han leaned against the sofa, sitting cross-legged. His shirt was unbuttoned two buttons down, his gaze lowered, his brow slightly furrowed. This posture made him look even more ominous, as if he might tear apart his prey at any moment.

He seemed uncomfortable, his forehead beaded with sweat. He impatiently reached up and tugged at his buttons.

The company and lawsuit issues must have been suffocating him lately.

Ji Qingyu sighed, quietly walked over, and sat down next to him. He bent his knees and hugged himself with his arms.

He was holding a glass of lemonade, which he slowly pushed toward Fu Han, his voice gentle.

“Drink some water to sober up.”

“…”

Fu Han didn’t take it. Instead, he pushed something toward Ji Qingyu. Ji Qingyu looked down. It was their prenuptial agreement. Fu Han’s voice was hoarse: “Ji Qingyu, for this new year, this thing is void.”

“The music room at home is too small. I’ve renovated a new one for you. It’s very spacious. I asked many people; it’s fully equipped. It’s near my company,” these words didn’t sound like something Fu Han would say. He was still expressionless, yet he tightly gripped Ji Qingyu’s hand, nearly spilling the lemonade. “Ji Qingyu, let’s forget about the past. Let’s start over, properly.”

Ji Qingyu didn’t move or look at Fu Han.

His profile, in the air, was like unreal porcelain. His hair swayed, and his eyes curved slightly at the corners. He forced a bright smile amidst the streamers and champagne bubbles: “Okay.”

“I have a bad character. Don’t let me disgust you,” Ji Qingyu said, still smiling as he spoke. Perhaps because of the pregnancy, his glands were secreting more pheromones than usual. Maybe this was a good thing.

The scent of rain enveloped the entire living room, damp and cold. Ji Qingyu often felt his pheromones were weak, yet they had such a strong presence at this moment.

“Fu Han, do you remember when we were eighteen, we took a photo together at the bar?” Ji Qingyu recounted flatly, as if telling someone else’s story.

“You brought me a lunch box back then. I wanted to repay you, so I picked the biggest fish at home and made yusheng (raw fish slices), planning to take it to you. But when I asked your friends where you were, and they pointed me in a direction, I opened the door and guess what I saw?”

Fu Han frowned. How could he remember such a small thing?

“I saw you with a male Omega. He kissed your face. You were smoking and didn’t object. I thought then, I was really making a fool of myself. Who do you actually like? Later, you came back and took a photo with me as if nothing happened. I dumped all the fish that day. I knew that at the time, I had nothing to do with you, and I was just being wishful, but I was still very sad. I went through that kind of sadness many more times later.”

Fu Han froze, clearly not remembering when that had happened. He gripped Ji Qingyu’s hand tighter, opening his mouth to speak but finding himself speechless.

Ji Qingyu said, “Fu Han, today is your birthday. I’ll sing you a song.”

He lowered his head and strummed the guitar. His voice was still a little deep, no longer as pleasing as when he was eighteen. The night was seductive. Fu Han suddenly grabbed Ji Qingyu’s hand. Without saying anything, he lowered his head and kissed him.

“Fu Han.” Ji Qingyu grabbed Fu Han’s lapel and pushed him away amidst the hurried kisses. “A piece of advice: look into Fu Yunsheng and Ji Ran…”

“Shut up. Focus.”

The Alpha’s body emitted strong pheromones, seemingly intent on engulfing Ji Qingyu completely. But he forgot that Ji Qingyu was a less sensitive, low-ranking Omega; his pheromones wouldn’t work on him. Ji Qingyu wouldn’t be induced into heat by him.

“Fu Han, I’ve said a lot of harsh things to you these past two days. I was just too sad…” Ji Qingyu stopped talking. He cooperated with Fu Han’s kissing and embracing, almost giving him everything he wanted.

Can birds in the sky and weeds on the ground be together? The answer is no. They will always be like two extremes of the world.

Fu Han was still holding his hand, his palm sweaty and sticky, which felt a little disgusting. Ji Qingyu reached out to trace his brow bone. These sharp, captivating features were beautiful and noble, yet looking at this face, he was too exhausted to exert any effort.

The time he had arranged with Ma Yu was fast approaching, just after midnight. At least on his birthday, all of Fu Han’s wishes had been fulfilled.