Does An Inferior Omega Also Have To Marry First, Then Fall In Love? - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: How Ironic, What I Don’t Want…

How ironic: what I don’t want is blessed, and what I desire is forever unattainable.

The wedding arrived as scheduled.

The wedding venue was the Fragrant Hill Villa in the city center. A few years ago, Fu Han bought the entire Fragrant Hill and built villas on this heart-nourishing mountain.

Many people attended that day, and it was very lively. Ji Qingyu was pulled up early in the morning for makeup. The makeup artist held his face, turning it from side to side in the mirror, and smiled, saying, “Mrs. Fu, you look truly beautiful.”

Omegas wear a qipao (cheongsam) for weddings. While many male Omegas now enjoy wearing skirts daily, Ji Qingyu had grown up raising himself like a Beta. His frame and muscle structure were somewhat larger than a typical Omega, and this was the first time he had ever worn a dress.

When Ji Ran pushed the door open, he saw Ji Qingyu uncomfortably adjusting the hem of the dress.

“This is why people say clothes make the man,” Ji Ran walked over, picked up an ear clip from the table, and clipped it onto Ji Qingyu’s ear. Ji Qingyu felt a little pain and frowned.

He acted like an obedient and sweet younger brother who genuinely wished him well, with a touch of childish playfulness.

Ji Qingyu didn’t possess Ji Ran’s superb acting skills, and his smile was strained. Ji Ran probably noticed, so he turned to chat with the makeup artist instead.

The makeup artist was delighted by his smooth talk: “Your brotherly relationship is so good. It turns out all those rumors outside were false.”

Ji Ran wasn’t offended. He looked at Ji Qingyu with a smiling gaze, “Of course. This is my only brother.”

The makeup artist finished and left, leaving only the two of them in the room.

Ji Ran was still smiling: “You’re getting bolder, daring to hang up on me.”

“It was the middle of the night, and I was very tired. I needed rest,” Ji Qingyu tried to defend himself, lowering his head.

Ji Ran’s face darkened, and his fingers tapped rhythmically on the mahogany table like a dance. “I’m having a concert soon and need to sing new songs on stage. You’ve been writing, right?”

“I’ve been tutoring constantly; I don’t have time,” Ji Qingyu looked everywhere but into Ji Ran’s eyes.

Ji Ran said irritably, “Stop tutoring. I’ll pay you three times the money to write songs for me. Same old rule: no name credit.”

“…I’ve been too busy recently; I don’t have time to write songs.”

“Then write them after the wedding.” Ji Ran frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to back out. Don’t forget…”

Ji Qingyu finally gathered the courage to interrupt him, “Let’s not talk about this today.”

Ji Ran was silent for two seconds, his eyes fixed on Ji Qingyu’s face, his expression shifting between moods, though his tone was as gentle as ever: “Fine. It’s your wedding today. I’ll give you a few days’ grace as a wedding gift. We’ll talk later.”

Ji Qingyu felt like he would suffocate if he stayed any longer. He turned and walked out. The path was lined with streamers and red silk. The hotel ballroom was filled with famous people and politicians. As he emerged, various gazes swept over him.

Ji Qingyu became stiff under everyone’s scrutiny.

The head of the Ji family and his wife had also come.

Ji Qingyu had never met his biological father before. Ji Ran once told him that his father had a one-night stand with Lin Ying while drunk.

That night was careless, and coupled with Lin Ying’s unwillingness, Ji Deyong didn’t use protection, leading to Ji Qingyu’s accidental conception.

Afterward, Ji Deyong neither cared for Lin Ying nor agreed to send her living expenses. Ji Qingyu never heard the specifics from Lin Ying. He didn’t even know who his father was until he became an adult.

The head of the Ji family, impeccably dressed and greeting guests with his gently beautiful Omega wife on his arm, immediately waved Ji Qingyu over upon seeing him.

The irritation in Ji Qingyu’s heart churned, making his stomach feel uneasy. He pretended not to see and tried to move to the side.

Ji Deyong’s helpless voice drifted into Ji Qingyu’s ears, as if he genuinely doted on him: “My son here has been spoiled rotten by me.”

Ji Qingyu wanted to laugh. He felt that the Ji family’s blood might contain a special gene, as everyone was excellent actors. If Ji Ran could apply such seasoned acting skills in films, the roles he guest-starred in wouldn’t be constantly criticized.

Ji Deyong’s voice grew louder, “Qingyu, come here and greet your father’s friends.”

That word “father” gave Ji Qingyu goosebumps. He felt nauseous and very uncomfortable. The embarrassment shot from his feet to the top of his head. Many people were already looking his way. Before he could decide what to do next, an arm wrapped around his shoulder, and he collided with a broad chest.

He looked up and saw Fu Han wearing his muzzle.

Fu Han didn’t look at Ji Qingyu, his fingers gently patting Ji Qingyu’s shoulder, forcefully pulling him into an embrace: “It seems I’m late, which upset my father-in-law.”

The wrinkles on Ji Deyong’s face deepened with laughter: “Nonsense, we’re all family. On such a joyous day, who could be angry?”

Fu Han casually placed a glass of champagne in Ji Qingyu’s hand.

He turned sideways, his eyes scanning Ji Qingyu once, his large hand circling Ji Qingyu’s wrist, intimately tidying the hair by his ear: “Stay with me. Don’t be nervous.”

Today, he was wearing an embroidered Zhongshan suit. The dragon-patterned fabric made him look tall and ascetic. This solemn appearance was incredibly alluring, and even Ji Qingyu felt a little overwhelmed. His hand was held by Fu Han, his palm sweating. Seeing him remain motionless, Fu Han turned back to look at him.

“What’s wrong? Are you uncomfortable?” Fu Han stood there, yet still seemed very distant from Ji Qingyu. Ji Qingyu shook his head, casting out the strange thoughts that surfaced. He and Fu Han began a series of complicated rituals: signing the marriage certificate, drinking sweet wine, and finally using gold-embroidered scissors to cut locks of hair and intertwine them.

Fu Han placed the intertwined hair into a red silk pouch and put it on his person, his movements uncharacteristically stiff and hesitant.

Ribbons fluttered down, and everyone cheered. Ji Qingyu looked into Fu Han’s eyes amidst the crowd. Those eyes were still calm and unreadable, concealing emotions he couldn’t decipher.

During the dinner banquet, he and Fu Han saw off guest after guest who came to toast. He slowly swirled his wine glass, listening to Fu Han’s endlessly smiling pleasantries, and old memories inexplicably resurfaced.

Since being shouted at by Fu Han, Ji Qingyu never dared to go near the storage room again. The Alphas were also wary, assuming Ji Qingyu had climbed the social ladder with his good looks and earned Fu Han’s protection.

Because of this, Ji Qingyu was no longer harassed, and his school life gradually improved.

Mingde was actually very beautiful. It had landscaping, piano rooms, and even a dedicated art gallery, all funded by the parents of wealthy students. If you excluded the student infighting and class discrimination, it was a very bright and lovely place.

Ji Qingyu liked to wander alone on campus, jotting down inspiration in his notebook. The tail end of summer was neither long nor short. The wind carried heat, blowing through Ji Qingyu’s white shirt. He chewed on his pen cap, leaning against a tree to write.

Time passed quickly. The school decided to organize a performance. The teacher pulled Ji Qingyu out from the talented students and asked him to play the piano: “Qingyu, I’ve assigned you a partner, our honorary top student. You two get along well and practice hard, okay?”

Honorary top student. Ji Qingyu hadn’t expected it to be the notoriously mischievous one.

What he saw clearly before the face was the muzzle on Fu Han’s face. He didn’t know how long he had been standing in the dark, but he casually walked towards him.

The teacher left, leaving only the two of them on the large stage. Fu Han’s footsteps echoed hollowly.

Ji Qingyu’s body tensed up. He had always been afraid of Fu Han; it was an innate, primal fear ingrained in his bones. His legs felt weak. He sat on the stool, trying his best to straighten his back to face Fu Han.

He couldn’t lose the battle of will.

Fu Han watched Ji Qingyu’s small defensive actions with a trace of amusement. He grabbed Ji Qingyu’s collar, leaned slightly closer, and lowered his eyes, “Hey classmate, did you just see a ghost?”

You tell me…

Ji Qingyu dug his fingers into the piano stool. He felt this person was completely unreasonable, as if he hadn’t been the one who scared him that day.

In this person’s eyes, fighting and scaring Omegas were perfectly normal things. Ji Qingyu was on full alert, like a startled rabbit.

Fu Han was holding a speech script. He stared at Ji Qingyu for two seconds, then raised his hand to touch Ji Qingyu’s face.

Ji Qingyu closed his eyes and flinched back.

Fu Han’s hand paused mid-air. After a moment, he started laughing, mockingly saying, “You truly are a coward.”

Ji Qingyu opened his eyes and saw a small leaf pinched between Fu Han’s fingers. He was a little embarrassed; it must have stuck to him while he napped in the shade of the tree.

Fu Han tossed the leaf into Ji Qingyu’s palm, not looking at him again. He turned, stretched, and commanded, “Let’s rehearse.”

Fu Han was in charge of the poetry recitation, and Ji Qingyu was the accompanist. After an unknown number of repetitions, Fu Han rubbed his stiff neck, walked over, and kicked Ji Qingyu’s stool, startling Ji Qingyu, who was still looking at the score.

“Huh?” Ji Qingyu didn’t understand what Fu Han meant. The man had actually taken off his muzzle. Ji Qingyu subconsciously leaned back, only to be pulled forward by Fu Han again.

“I’m hungry. Let’s go eat. You’re coming with me.” Fu Han propped one hand on the piano stand, seemingly very bored, randomly hitting a few notes. His other hand blocked Ji Qingyu’s escape route.

It was a very hot day. Fu Han took off his school jacket and threw it into Ji Qingyu’s arms. Ji Qingyu then noticed Fu Han’s tattoos. A fierce beast was coiled on his shoulder, becoming one with Fu Han.

“I’ve never heard the piece you’re playing before,” Fu Han said as he walked toward the food court behind the school. Sitting in this heavily common place, he looked like an untainted fresco.

Ji Qingyu broke apart two pairs of chopsticks, folded them to remove the splinters, wiped a small dish with a tissue, and added some chili oil.

“That’s my own composition,” Ji Qingyu’s voice held a hint of hope. “Do you… what do you think of it?”

Fu Han looked at Ji Qingyu and suddenly smiled. He picked up a pan-fried dumpling, put it in his mouth, and only spoke after swallowing completely, “It’s alright. It could be better.”

“How could it be better?” Ji Qingyu was a little nervous. He kept thinking about the Omega Fu Han had bitten. He was distracted several times, didn’t dare look at Fu Han, and had no appetite.

Fu Han said, “Don’t you think your voice is quite good?”

“But when I yelled for help, didn’t you still tell me to shut up?” Ji Qingyu secretly glanced at Fu Han, complaining in a tiny voice.

Fu Han paused, slightly choked, his eyes dangerously fixed on Ji Qingyu: “Say that again?”

Ji Qingyu didn’t dare to speak again, burying his head and quietly eating his food.

Fu Han suddenly pinched Ji Qingyu’s face, a smile playing on his lips, his tone light and airy. He leaned in and lowered his gaze, “Looking at you this way, you’re quite passable.”

They were very close. Ji Qingyu pressed both hands against his chest to fend off the heat radiating from Fu Han. His ears were flushed red. He was slightly intimidated by Fu Han, so he turned his eyes away.

Fu Han looked at Ji Qingyu. Ji Qingyu’s face was reddened from the pinch, and the corners of his eyes were red, too. He was silent for a few seconds, then let go of him for some unknown reason. Ji Qingyu quietly touched his face, a sudden, sharp ache spreading.

After eating that day, Fu Han didn’t intend to wait for Ji Qingyu. Seeing the dumplings still untouched in front of Ji Qingyu, he opened his wallet and threw a few hundred dollars at him: “Go buy some yourself.”

“No need,” Ji Qingyu refused, but Fu Han had already stood up and walked away without looking back, “If you’re not going to buy it, just leave it there.”

Ji Qingyu held the crisp, clean hundred-dollar bills, lost in thought for a moment. He then realized that Fu Han had just been bored eating alone.

Right, what was I thinking…

Those few bills were new and clean, yet Ji Qingyu felt they were burning his hand.

Ji Qingyu folded the money and placed it on the table, tucked under the bowl. He couldn’t describe his feelings. He slowly sat for a while before standing up, brushing off non-existent dust, and calling the boss to settle the bill.

…

“What are you so engrossed in?” Ji Qingyu’s thoughts were pulled back to the dinner table. The surroundings were still lively.

He turned his head and found Fu Han staring at him, his eyebrows slightly furrowed—an expression somewhere between helpless and impatient.

Perhaps seeing Ji Qingyu constantly distracted, Fu Han still maintained appearances in front of everyone and condescendingly served Ji Qingyu a dish. Coincidentally, it was a dumpling.

Ji Qingyu ate the dumpling. Fu Han served him another. This went on for several rounds. Ji Qingyu wanted to stop him, yet Fu Han’s eyes weren’t even on him; he was talking to someone else.

Ji Qingyu wanted to pull on the sleeve of Fu Han’s jacket under the table to signal him to stop serving him, but he felt the gesture was too intimate. His hand hovered next to Fu Han’s hand, not daring to go further. In the end, he forced himself to eat a dozen dumplings.

A nearby guest, probably trying to flatter them, praised, “The madam has a great appetite.”

“Is that so?” Fu Han seemed genuinely amused. He chuckled, yet there was a hint of sarcasm in his laugh. The hand under the table suddenly reached out, holding Ji Qingyu’s hand tightly, toying with it and squeezing it repeatedly.

Ji Qingyu’s ears were flushed. He tried to pull his hand back several times, but Fu Han tightened his grip until their fingers were intertwined, leaving him unable to move.

Ji Qingyu lowered his head, unable to eat any more, and set down his chopsticks, blushing and embarrassed. His palms were slick with cold sweat.