Does An Inferior Omega Also Have To Marry First, Then Fall In Love? - Chapter 50

Chapter 50: What Is The Autumn Like in Mingde…

Ji Qingyu’s impression of what autumn was like at Mingde High School was already vague; he only remembered walking with Fu Han on the tree-lined path behind the main school building.

The wind rustled softly, and the maple trees were a blaze of red. The sound of their footsteps on the fallen leaves was very light.

“I haven’t been close to anyone else besides you,” Ji Qingyu was busy explaining, then felt he sounded too eager, so he just tugged on Fu Han’s hand.

“Is that so?” Fu Han smiled, leaning in to pinch Ji Qingyu’s chin. “Then who was that alpha talking to you at the school gate today?”

“That was my neighbor,” Ji Qingyu was forced to take two steps back, only to be pulled back by Fu Han.

“Neighbor? Really?”

“You, how can you have the nerve to question me? Look at yourself!” Ji Qingyu finally managed to say, trying to remind the other person of something. His voice was half-muffled by his scarf. Sunlight spilled onto the path, and the leaves cast golden reflections on the ground.

“Me?” Fu Han chuckled. “Are you going to manage me?”

“I’m not…” Ji Qingyu’s denial was weak. He pursed his lips, looking angry but not daring to speak.

Seeing Ji Qingyu’s reaction, Fu Han’s mood actually improved. His beautiful, well-proportioned hand stroked Ji Qingyu’s earlobe, his tone light and easy. “How was yesterday’s lunchbox? Was it delicious?”

“It was delicious, but school has already started. I can go to the cafeteria. Don’t trouble your family’s auntie. She must be busy.” When Ji Qingyu mentioned this, some unpleasant associations surfaced in his mind, and his mood sank. He put some distance between himself and Fu Han.

Today was a strawberry parfait, tomorrow a peach sabayon, plus a large thermos of ginger tea, barley water, and sweet red bean paste. Every day, he felt more indebted to Fu Han, and he didn’t like owing others.

The wind blew, scattering maple leaves all over the ground. Fu Han was always a prominent figure. On this inconspicuous path, students occasionally passed by in a rush, but they all glanced sideways at the pair, some showing expressions of surprise and envy. Ji Qingyu felt uncomfortable, but Fu Han seemed long accustomed to it.

He curled his lips and raised an eyebrow, completely ignoring the passersby. “Of course. My auntie is a great cook. I had her teach…”

He paused, stopping abruptly.

“Teach what?” Why did he stop halfway through? Ji Qingyu looked up at Fu Han curiously, his eyes momentarily dazzled by the sun, causing him to squint.

He didn’t know how he looked in the other’s eyes: a slender yet well-proportioned figure, slightly curved eye corners, pale lips, an overall warm appearance, with his hair turning a faint chestnut color in the sunlight.

His lips were slightly parted, and a keen observer could see the shape of his pink tongue, opening and closing. Fu Han stared at Ji Qingyu for two seconds, then suddenly averted his face and abruptly lifted his hand to pull Ji Qingyu’s scarf up.

Ji Qingyu was stunned, like a beautiful snowman whose face had been suddenly covered. He stood rooted to the spot and instinctively reached out to grab Fu Han’s hand. Only then did he see the bandage on Fu Han’s hand. The bandage had a cute design. Ji Qingyu asked softly, “What is this?”

“What is what?” Fu Han frowned and looked down, seeing the bandage. He smiled carelessly. “Oh, that. I hurt myself accidentally. What’s wrong? Are you worried about me?”

Ji Qingyu shook his head, let go of his hand, and walked a few steps forward with his head down. “If I were to worry about you, I’d probably have to take a number.”

“Take what number?” Fu Han pulled him back, his tone sinking. “Aren’t you curious how I got hurt?”

Ji Qingyu hastily yanked down his scarf and continued walking forward sullenly.

“You probably got into a fight somewhere again! After a fight, a bunch of people will rush to comfort you. What is there for me to ask? Go let them ask!” Ji Qingyu’s voice grew louder. He turned back and glared at Fu Han, who, in turn, smiled.

He pulled the omega close, his voice ambiguous and languid, carrying a light, heavy, almost teasing or condescending tone that was pleasant to the ear. It struck Ji Qingyu’s eardrums and made his heart pound. “I say, you’re not getting jealous, are you?”

Before Ji Qingyu could respond, someone suddenly called out to Fu Han from behind. It was a richly dressed omega with an exquisite, beautiful face and an arrogant, haughty manner—the same one who had kissed Fu Han’s cheek at the bar.

He didn’t even look at Ji Qingyu, only tossed a set of keys to Fu Han, flashing a bright smile. His cheeks were flushed as he mentioned a restaurant address, then waved elegantly. His voice was sickeningly sweet, like an expensive chocolate liquor dessert. He said shyly, “See you later.”

Fu Han smoothly caught the keys. He still held Ji Qingyu’s arm, gave a casual acknowledgment, then lowered his head to look at Ji Qingyu, only to find the smile had vanished from Ji Qingyu’s face.

The cozy atmosphere between them immediately disappeared, leaving only silence. Fu Han opened his mouth, about to say something, but the conversation was interrupted by another uninvited guest.

“Bro, why are you here? PE class is starting soon. I wondered why I didn’t see you with your class team.” Ji Ran appeared from somewhere, hooking his arm into Ji Qingyu’s wrist. “Let’s go, you’ll be late for class.”

Ji Qingyu was pulled away by Ji Ran like a puppet, still holding the lunchbox Fu Han had given him.

Fu Han didn’t stop him.

“Oh, that lunchbox is pretty nice.” Ji Ran nodded, acknowledging Fu Han, his tone carrying a teasing chuckle. “What’s wrong, moping around? Something on your mind?”

“Oh, nothing,” Ji Qingyu snapped out of his daze. “He made an extra one and just handed it to me.”

“How many omegas has that been this month? Have you even counted?” Ji Ran’s voice was closer, sounding familiar, like a younger brother desperately trying to persuade Ji Qingyu to turn back from a wrong path.

“It has nothing to do with me,” Ji Qingyu said flatly. “Let’s go. Isn’t class starting soon?”

They walked along the path towards the sports field. Ji Ran paused, then suddenly spoke.

“Bro, don’t be sad… If you like eating lunchboxes, I can bring you one too. It’s just having the auntie cook it. It’s not like Fu Han made it himself, right?” He patted Ji Qingyu’s back, took out a piece of candy from his pocket, and handed it to Ji Qingyu.

“Yes, of course, it’s impossible.” Ji Qingyu lowered his head further. He could clearly see the weeds by the roadside, so insignificant. This was probably the perspective Fu Han’s group had of him too. He cleared his mind of these unrealistic thoughts.

Sure enough, the sound behind them disappeared. Ji Qingyu forced himself not to look back. Long after, he heard Fu Han’s voice again, joking with the omega. Of course. Someone like Fu Han only ever had people revolving around him. Why would he be gentle or accommodating towards anyone else?

Wasn’t he just the same, getting hooked after the other person merely beckoned and flirted a little?

The old days slowly faded like patches of light, leaving behind only some indelible traces. Ji Qingyu only remembered that the lunchbox that day was delicious. Kept in a thermos container, it was an omelet rice with “I Love You” scrawled crookedly on top in ketchup. The handwriting was terrible. It wasn’t until Ji Qingyu finished eating that he realized what the sentence was, and he thought Fu Han’s auntie was quite creative.

Ji Qingyu drifted through one bizarre dream after another. When he woke up, his throat was dry and painful. The ward was dimly lit, with only the faint glow of a small bedside lamp. The curtains were drawn, making it impossible to tell if it was day or night. He cleared his throat and turned his head to see a familiar face watching over him.

He was the one who was sick, but Fu Han looked even more haggard than him, with dark circles spreading under his eyes. That handsome, indifferent face was shrouded in worry.

Fu Han was slumped by the bed, eyes closed, sleeping with his face resting awkwardly by Ji Qingyu’s side. Ji Qingyu also awkwardly turned his head to look at him by the bed.

Why was such a tall, imposing, and arrogant person showing such a vulnerable side now? He felt a sense of unreality. He raised his hand to touch Fu Han’s nose bridge, but before he could, the person reacted as if through telepathy, his eyeballs shifting slightly.

Frightened, Ji Qingyu immediately closed his eyes, instinctively pretending he hadn’t woken up yet.

There was a faint movement beside his ear, and then he felt a hot, fiery breath. Someone gently kissed the side of his face. A hand smoothed back his stray hair and then slid down, stubbornly intertwining with his fingers.

A beautiful voice, like an elegant, rich cello, was tinged with helplessness.

“It’s been almost three days. Are you ever going to wake up? I made a lot of delicious things, all the ones you like. If you don’t wake up soon, I’ll throw them away.” The voice was low, hoarse, and cold, yet the grip on his hand tightened, refusing to let go.

With his eyes closed, Ji Qingyu suddenly thought of the “I Love You” on the lunchbox. A strange and absurd thought popped into his head—could Fu Han have deliberately gone to the bar to hear him sing back then, and then deliberately made those lunchboxes for him?

How could that be?

His thoughts were a little confused, and they spread out to other things. It grew quiet around him, and he could almost feel the other person’s intense gaze settling tangibly on his face.

After a while, his hand was lifted and touched someone’s skin. The arrogant block of ice melted, his voice becoming softer than the red bean paste Ji Qingyu had once eaten, as if wrapped in a sickly sweet sugar coating, revealing a side he would normally never see.

The heart rate monitor beside the bed fluctuated erratically, beginning to jump violently, a straight line skyrocketing, about to break the warning threshold. He thought Fu Han had discovered he was faking sleep, but the next second, someone pressed their face to his hand, rubbing against it childishly.

The pleasant voice carried a hint of grievance, heavy and muffled, gradually fading into the gloom, making Ji Qingyu’s heart tighten. “I was lying. From now on, I’ll make you whatever you want to eat. So, I’m begging you, please wake up soon, okay?”