Does An Inferior Omega Also Have To Marry First, Then Fall In Love? - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: What’s Wrong with Your Voice?..

“What’s wrong with your voice?”

Ji Qingyu cleared his throat but didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure what to say.

Fu Han just asked casually and then added another off-hand remark, “Too excited to get married? Isn’t this what you wanted to achieve?”

Ji Qingyu was stunned. He looked at Fu Han’s eyes with a stiff expression. Fu Han was expressionless, his lips tight, his face extremely cold.

Ji Qingyu didn’t understand how Fu Han came to that conclusion. He wanted to speak up and defend himself, but his thoughts were dragged back to the hospital bed. His gland began to ache faintly again.

The photographer was already waiting for them downstairs, along with reporters. The two walked into the elevator, one after the other. In this small, enclosed space, there was nowhere to hide. The air felt stagnant. Fu Han’s voice came from above, “Straighten your back. Smile nicely.”

“Oh…” Ji Qingyu replied glumly.

The moment they stepped out of the elevator, Fu Han already put an arm around his shoulder.

Ji Qingyu lowered his head, his hair covering his eyes. He forced a weak smile, but the smile trembled and wouldn’t stay, so he eventually gave up.

Ji Qingyu’s gaze began to drift again. He recalled the eighteen-year-old Fu Han, who always seemed to have people around. Beautiful Omegas fluttered around him like butterflies, coming and going quickly.

In high school, Ji Qingyu had only one thing in common with Fu Han: a preference for less crowded places. Once, as he was walking down a small path toward the classroom, he saw Fu Han pinning an Omega by the neck, contemplating how to bite. That poised hunting posture was chilling.

The Omega trembled all over, his breathing suppressed and prolonged. Ji Qingyu was a little scared. He subconsciously shook his teeth, his legs weak, almost unable to move.

Ji Qingyu intended to leave quietly, but before he could back away, Fu Han’s gaze swept over him with an air of weariness.

Ji Qingyu was so frightened he didn’t dare move.

Fu Han stared at him. After a few seconds, he suddenly showed an extremely malicious smile. He looked at Ji Qingyu as he slowly bit the neck of the Omega beneath him.

Ji Qingyu’s own neck started to hurt. A sticky sound reached Ji Qingyu’s ears. He backed away, stepping on a branch. A crisp crack sound rang out, and the Omega asked in a panic, “What was that sound?”

Ji Qingyu practically fled in terror.

That was the first time he directly faced an Alpha’s desires. He saw the pitiful Omega pinned down, and it felt like he was seeing his own fate.

The flashing lights pulled his thoughts back. A reporter charged past the security line and lunged towards him, thrusting a microphone right into his face.

Before a question could be asked, Fu Han pulled him into his arms. Fu Han’s hand pressed on the back of his head. His face was against Fu Han’s unbuttoned shirt, close enough to hear the other man’s heartbeat.

Heat and vibration struck at the same time, the buzzing sound making Ji Qingyu’s cheeks flush.

As if worried that Ji Qingyu was scared, Fu Han patted his head twice, then gently rubbed it. Ji Qingyu felt Fu Han was touching him no differently than he would a small dog.

“Don’t be afraid,” Fu Han comforted him.

Ji Qingyu wasn’t actually scared; he just felt awkward that he had to perform in front of everyone, and he certainly didn’t want to be used as fuel for the public’s emotional narrative about Ji Ran and Fu Han.

The flashbulbs kept firing.

The reporter’s target shifted to Fu Han: “Excuse me, were you introduced by Ji Ran? We heard you had a better relationship with Ji Ran before?”

“My fiancé and I were high school classmates. We simply lost touch after graduation, and I feel very lucky that fate has brought us back together.”

“Are you saying you had feelings for him even back then?”

“…Yes, I liked him very much back then.”

Fu Han’s hand moved from his head to his waist, applying some force. He avoided the question about Ji Ran, shielding him from the reporters’ view as they walked.

Ji Qingyu reached up to cover the gauze on his neck. He knew he should be cooperative with Fu Han, trying his best to play his role as a qualified new bride. But he had never been a good actor.

As he was thinking, Fu Han’s hand covered his neck, pushing him into the car just before he could be exposed to the cameras. The warmth disappeared instantly, replaced by a terrifying tingle.

Sure enough, moments after being affectionate while answering reporters’ questions, Fu Han immediately pushed him away once they were in the car.

“You’re quite the coward,” Fu Han leaned back in his seat and urged, “Hurry up and finish the photoshoot; I have other things to deal with.”

“Fu Han, can I ask you a question?” Ji Qingyu tried hard to calm himself and asked with courage.

Fu Han was silent for half a second, frowning slightly in impatience. He lowered his eyes to look at him and slowly said, “Ask.”

“Why did you agree to marry me?” Ji Qingyu’s voice was still husky, so gloomy and low that it irritated even himself.

Fu Han didn’t take much time to think. He gave a sarcastic laugh.

“It’s a commercial marriage. As long as it brings benefits, does it matter if it’s you or someone else? Are you still indulging in some unrealistic fantasy?” Fu Han looked at him with amusement. “However, you actually dared to marry me with a permanent mark. You really are as unrepentant as you were back then.”

Repent? He hadn’t done anything wrong back then, so how could he repent?

Ji Qingyu didn’t bother listening to Fu Han’s nonsense. He typically filtered out and ignored things he didn’t want to hear. But Fu Han suddenly grabbed Ji Qingyu’s chin with an unkind tone. He used some force, making Ji Qingyu’s eyes redden from the pain. Fu Han’s tone grew colder: “After all, doesn’t it not matter who you marry either?”

Ji Qingyu blinked. He stopped talking.

Fu Han’s words weren’t wrong; they made sense.

The space in the car was very quiet. Fu Han rested his chin on his hand, looking out the window. Ji Qingyu almost buried his head in his collar.

They had no feelings for each other, and being forcibly tied together was merely for the benefit of their two families.

It was unbearable. The air was practically turning to ice. Ji Qingyu tugged at his clothes, shrinking into the corner of the car.

The wedding photos were quickly taken. It was very smooth. The two of them were like puppets manipulated by the photographer. After the shoot, Fu Han had the driver take Ji Qingyu home and lit a cigarette on the roadside himself.

Ji Qingyu watched Fu Han’s figure recede. He had changed back into his trench coat, looking like a street model from a movie poster—long-legged, exuding a wild yet noble demeanor from his face to his fingertips.

Ji Qingyu returned home, collapsed onto the bed, and stared at the empty ceiling.

He held the wedding photos sent by the photographer. The makeup artist had made him look like he was eighteen. The two of them truly looked like a perfect couple.

He lay there for a while, then got up and put the photo into an album.

The album was old, and the plastic cover was somewhat broken. He sat in his small, somewhat humble one-room apartment for a while. He opened the drawer to find replacement gauze, using iodine to disinfect and change the dressing.

He changed the dressing in front of the mirror alone, wincing in pain.

The forced etiquette lessons of the past few days had left his entire body sore. The wound showed no sign of healing, still seeping blood. He lay on the sofa watching TV and drifted off to sleep.

In the dream, his eighteen-year-old self sat beside him. Ji Qingyu looked at him, and he looked back at Ji Qingyu.

The young man was high-spirited, with shallow dimples at the corners of his mouth when he smiled, gentle and soft. He leaned on the sofa and asked him, “How is your song writing going? Does anyone like it? Has anyone loved you?”

“Huh?” Ji Qingyu slowly replied, half-asleep, “Don’t worry, I’m still trying.”

The eighteen-year-old Ji Qingyu stared at him, his eyes calmly asking, “Why are you lying to a child? Didn’t you see that my throat was cut open?”

Ji Qingyu stammered. The person across from him was clearly very healthy and intact: “No, no, you’re fine. You’re fine, your voice is fine, it’s not broken.”

He woke up with a start, his back soaked in icy sweat.

The projection from the window fell onto the sheets, like frames of white illusion. He looked at the moon outside the window, staring blankly for a long time. It was the same moon that someone had once leaned by the window and listened to him sing under.

The glass window shattered under his hand. A large amount of fresh blood gushed from his hand. The pain brought some clarity to his mind. He stumbled off the bed, holding his hand to find bandages to wrap it up, but the phone rang at that moment. The caller ID was Ji Ran.

Of course. Only he would call him at any hour. Even after forcing medicine down his throat, he still enjoyed playing this game of brotherly pretense.

Ji Qingyu usually played along, but today he was truly not in the mood, so he pressed decline.

The phone persistently rang again. He flipped it over, leaned against the window, staring at the moths circling outside until the sky faintly brightened. Only then did the calls stop.

The weather was poor that day. It had been raining since morning, a continuous drizzle. The doctor called to inform him that Lin Ying’s condition had fluctuated and that visiting would be prohibited for the next period. He urged Ji Qingyu to come quickly for one last visit.

So, Ji Qingyu put on a brown jacket, straightened his collar, ate breakfast at the bun shop downstairs, and rushed over after quickly downing two instant coffees.

He bought two bouquets of daisies at the subway entrance. When he arrived at the hospital entrance, he found himself unbearably hot and took off his jacket, leaving him in just a short-sleeved shirt.

He looked at Lin Ying. The electrocardiogram pulsed up and down beside her. He didn’t have much to say, but he begged the doctor to let him be disinfected and go in. He wanted to hold his mother’s hand.

The doctor stared at him for a moment and sighed.

“Alright, three minutes. Just stay for three minutes, then you must come out immediately.” The doctor stopped Ji Qingyu. “You can’t bring flowers inside. The patient’s immune system is low right now. Bringing things like that in could cause shock.”

Ji Qingyu nodded. The doctor sprayed him with a large amount of disinfectant, and then he was pushed inside. The door closed again.

Ji Qingyu walked over and held Lin Ying’s hand. He was a little nervous and decided to talk about the happy things he could think of, such as the stage play his student planned to do with him, the new songs he was writing, and the fact that he was getting married.

“Although that person has a bad temper, he’s not entirely unreasonable. And… he’s very rich. We’ll be able to live in a big house in the future. I think life is getting better little by little.”

Ji Qingyu tried to imitate his eighteen-year-old self, smiling more brightly. He looked down at Lin Ying’s hand. Lin Ying’s fingers had many calluses from dealing with fish.

He counted them one by one, then said, “Mom, please wake up soon.”

That thin, trembling hand moved slightly, like a hallucination. Ji Qingyu froze.

The three minutes quickly ended. The doctor knocked on the glass, urging him to leave. He reluctantly left, walking to the door, and told the doctor with a hint of astonishment, “Did you see that? Her hand just moved.”

The doctor seemed to pity him and smiled in agreement, replying with sympathy, “Yes, Mr. Ji. Once she gets through this period, she will get better.”

“Mr. Ji, your wedding is tomorrow, isn’t it? I wish you a happy wedding.”