My Ex-Husband Got Married, and the Bride is Actually Me? - Chapter 2

Xu He leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting between the three of them. “Are all three of you from the same school?”

“Yes,” Lin Bai replied with a smile, faint dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth. “We all graduated from S University, though not in the same major.”

“Did you spend your whole college days watching those two be all lovey-dovey?”

“In college, we actually…” Shen Yan didn’t want to continue this topic and tried to steer the conversation elsewhere.

Then, beneath the dining table, his hand was grasped by Wen Xiuran, who gave a warning squeeze to the fleshy part of his palm. Shen Yan clicked his tongue—this habit of his hadn’t changed in years. Once, at a banquet, Shen Yan had merely exchanged a few more words with another alpha, and Wen Xiuran had elegantly walked over, clinking glasses with the other person while discreetly pinching the flesh at Shen Yan’s waist.

“Stop pretending,” Xu He said, a chocolate stick dangling from his mouth like a modern-day Sherlock Holmes, his gaze sharp. “Your suits today are matching couples’ outfits!”

Shen Yan looked down. He was wearing a well-tailored light-colored suit paired with a simple-cut inner shirt.

Yesterday had marked the end of Wen Xiuran’s rut. During his nesting phase, he had nearly emptied Shen Yan’s wardrobe. When Shen Yan woke up, his hair a mess as he crawled out from under the blankets, Wen Xiuran had tossed the clothes at him.

Rubbing his eyes, Shen Yan hadn’t given it much thought and had simply changed before heading out.

Now that Wen Xiuran’s little scheme had been exposed, he merely smiled and nodded, signaling Aunt Wu to hurry up with the meal.

The three of them ate in awkward silence, with only the oblivious Xu He laughing and chatting away.

Truth be told, the dynamic between Shen Yan and Wen Xiuran had changed drastically over time. At first, Shen Yan had been the talkative one, but later, no matter how much Wen Xiuran spoke, he couldn’t be bothered to respond.

Aunt Wu had always had a soft spot for polite young people and enthusiastically introduced Lin Bai to the local specialties—though, in reality, they were just dishes the locals were sick of eating.

Lately, Shen Yan’s appetite hadn’t been great, and he occasionally felt nauseous. The family doctor had assured him it was nothing serious, just a reaction to Wen Xiuran’s pheromones.

Thankfully, he was a beta. If he were an omega, he’d probably be frantically searching for emergency contraceptives right now.

A long time ago, Wen Xiuran had actually wanted a child. But a beta’s reproductive system wasn’t fully developed, and conception would likely require an alpha partner to forcibly reopen the reproductive cavity.

Shen Yan was afraid of pain and had zero interest in childbirth. He’d have been thrilled if Wen Xiuran’s parents had kicked him out for failing to produce an heir. Maybe then he could have found a suitable beta and settled down early.

During the peak of his rut-induced aggression, Wen Xiuran had once fantasized about using medication to force Shen Yan into a secondary gender differentiation, turning him into an omega so they could share a pheromonal bond and make Shen Yan dependent on him. But the doctor had tactfully pointed out that there was also a chance the patient could differentiate into an alpha.

The look on Wen Xiuran’s face at that moment had been priceless.

“Mrs. Wen… didn’t you pursue further studies after your master’s?” Lin Bai asked casually, having unintentionally glanced at the water lilies on the second floor for the umpteenth time. “I heard you once applied for a Ph.D.”

Shen Yan’s hand, in the middle of cutting his steak, paused. Lowering his eyes, he replied indifferently, “No. I decided it was too exhausting and didn’t go through with it.”

“Besides, being a stay-at-home husband isn’t bad these days.” He shrugged, lifting his knife and fork to gesture vaguely at the air. “Isn’t this the life I wanted?”

“He was never one for socializing anyway.” Wen Xiuran, for what felt like the hundredth time, added food to Shen Yan’s plate, his tone laced with implication. “Dealing with people is always draining, and it’s easy to lose your way.”

Shen Yan felt the other was subtly mocking him again. No matter how much Wen Xiu claimed not to care, he always seemed hung up on what happened during their university days.

If he really couldn’t let it go, they might as well part ways cleanly. Instead, he clung on while constantly making passive-aggressive remarks.

Shen Yan concluded that alphas were all unreasonable creatures.

Lin Bai set down his utensils, silent for a long moment before speaking calmly. “President Wen makes a valid point. Though I recall Madam Wen once applied for a Ph.D. at Y University in the States.”

Shen Yan, now also irritated, dredged up old grievances. “Right, right. I wasn’t exactly cut out for academia either. When I applied to Y University, that professor didn’t even reply to my email.”

“The advisor you chose—I met him at an exhibition recently.” Lin Bai looked at Shen Yan. “The quadrennial National Art Exhibition, held in City A this year. It might still be going on.”

Wen Xiuran paused briefly at this but maintained his smile.

Shen Yan caught the subtle reaction from the corner of his eye, his suspicions growing clearer. His other hand, resting on the table, began trembling involuntarily.

“What a coincidence. But he’s a heavyweight in the field, often invited to exhibitions—maybe as a judge this time.” Shen Yan lowered his head and continued cutting into his steak.

“He said he did reply to your email. Y University’s admissions office also contacted you, and you chose to voluntarily withdraw your application.”

“Holy shit, Shen Yan, you’re something else!” Xu He dropped his utensils onto his plate, clutching his chest in exaggerated dismay. “When I applied, my advisor scheduled me for two years later, and you actually turned it down?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he noticed Wen Xiuran’s darkening expression and quickly backtracked. “I mean… not getting a Ph.D. is fine too. With Xiuran here, he can get you into any school you want.”

Lin Bai asked coolly, “Did you ever receive those emails?”

Shen Yan felt as if a gaping hole had been torn open in his chest. He opened his mouth but had no idea where to begin explaining.

“It’s all in the past. No need to bring it up now.” Wen Xiuran set down his knife and fork, lips curving as he idly turned his teacup. “Yan Yan is doing just fine as things are.”

Just fine?

Shen Yan stared down at the food on his plate. Yes, he was doing just fine.

And even if he had received those emails back then, would he really have gone? A Ph.D. would have meant publishing papers, studying endless theory, and if he somehow graduated on time to become a lecturer, his life now would probably be far less carefree.

The minor incident didn’t derail things much. The meal concluded smoothly, and the contract was signed without a hitch.

When Lin Bai left, he gifted a pot of orchids—a rare, fragrant variety from the south, meant to soothe the senses and give Shen Yan something to pass the time.

As Lin Bai spoke, Shen Yan kept his head down, sipping his tea without a word of acknowledgment, though he did glance briefly at the orchid’s unusually plump leaves.

Wu Ma and the butler saw the two guests off. Wen Xiuran studied the orchids for a long while, watching Shen Yan trim the roses, before finally leaving without a word.

The wooden door of the greenhouse was covered with a faint layer of moss. Sunlight filtered through the delicate glass roof, casting dappled shadows that intertwined with the meticulously arranged potted flowers below, weaving a dazzling tapestry of light and color.

Ever since Shen Yan developed leg problems, Wen Xiuran had built him this climate-controlled greenhouse, giving him a place to grow flowers and pass the time.

The greenhouse was also home to small animals, making it feel like a miniature world.

Shen Yan carefully snipped the roses one by one, meticulously plucking the thorns from their stems. Glancing down, he noticed a rabbit basking in the sunlight on the ground and deliberately tossed the removed thorns farther away.

“What are you doing?”

Wen Xiuran grabbed his hand, his gaze scrutinizing. “Why are you removing their thorns?”

“Because I want to.” Shen Yan shook off Wen Xiuran’s grip and went back to pulling at the rose blossoms.

Truthfully, he found it hard to explain why he was doing this. Sometimes, he really struggled to control his thoughts and his actions.

It was as if he needed something… or needed to discard something.

“I’ll have Wu Ma bring your medicine.” Wen Xiuran patted his shoulder, as if soothing him. “I shouldn’t have let you see Lin Bai today.”

Before he could finish, Shen Yan suddenly hurled a large bouquet of roses violently into Wen Xiuran’s face. The unplucked thorns pierced his skin, leaving streaks of blood across his face.

Innocent rose petals scattered around them.

The small exertion left Shen Yan slightly breathless.

Stubbornly, he demanded, “Why?”

Wen Xiuran touched his own face, fingertips coming away sticky with blood.

“‘Why’ what?” Wen Xiuran leaned in, hands gripping either side of Shen Yan’s chair, brushing petals from his hair as if conducting an interview. “Why you refused to take your medicine? Or why I let you see Lin Bai?”

“Didn’t you already move on? Why did seeing Lin Bai today make you like this again? You still can’t forget him? Shen Yan, I never knew you were such a devoted lover. I almost want to applaud you.”

Wen Xiuran laughed.

Perhaps due to his mixed heritage, Wen Xiuran’s eyes were a pure, deep navy blue. When he fixed his gaze on someone, they were like calm, fathomless oceans. Now, his left cheek was streaked with blood, his shoulders dusted with slightly disheveled strands of hair.

There was a disheveled beauty to it.

Shen Yan, however, felt no appreciation—only disgust. He struggled to push Wen Xiuran away, but his strength wasn’t enough.

He knew he was having another episode. When his mind was clouded, Shen Yan always ended up provoking Wen Xiuran, who would wait until Shen Yan regained his senses before dealing with him.

“First there’s a Lin Bai—will there be a Lin Black or Lin Red next?” Wen Xiuran’s voice was soft as he pressed a finger to Shen Yan’s chest. “Just how many people are in your heart?”

Shen Yan turned his face away coldly, refusing to engage.

Wen Xiuran knelt on one knee, his tall frame leaning forward with quiet intensity.

One hand rested lightly on Shen Yan’s thigh, long fingers curling slightly, like a clinging serpent coiling around him through the fabric. The invasive sensation made Shen Yan stiffen abruptly, his stomach churning with discomfort.

Wen Xiuran’s hand moved with an irresistible force, his eyes slightly narrowed as Shen Yan’s clothes were slowly lifted. Wen Xiuran’s gaze locked onto Shen Yan, like a silent provocation.

The alpha pinched the fabric and held it to Shen Yan’s lips, his tone leaving no room for argument: “Bite it.”

Shen Yan’s breathing grew rapid, his teeth clenched tightly, eyes brimming with defiance.

The standoff didn’t last long. Suppressing his emotions with great effort, Shen Yan’s eyes reddened as he silently bit down on the fabric.

If circumstances allowed, he truly wanted to tear Wen Xiuran apart with his teeth.

Wen Xiuran let out a cold laugh, his movements elegant and practiced as he took a pair of leather gloves from the nearby shelf, meticulously plucking every thorn from the roses.

The next morning, as dawn barely broke.

Wen Xiuran stood before the mirror, meticulously adjusting his tie. After finishing his preparations, he didn’t leave immediately. Instead, he sat back down on the bed, his icy gaze falling on Shen Yan’s bruised and purple-marked gland. A sight so shocking it seemed to improve his mood.

He spoke lightly, yet his words struck Shen Yan’s ears like a hammer: “If you still think of running away, I’ll lock you in the basement for the rest of your life. If you want to play, I’ll gladly oblige.”

Shen Yan, still lying on the bed, remained motionless, his back turned to Wen Xiuran, lips bitten tightly shut. He said nothing, as if using silence to resist the suffocating oppression.

Half an hour after the door closed, he dragged his weak body to the window, watering the orchid leaves. He pried open the back of a leaf and caught a fleeting glimpse of a few numbers.

Then, without a word, he knocked the orchid to the ground.

Shen Yan stared at the shattered pot, the dark soil spilling out like entrails from a slit belly—a nauseating sight.

Looking at the discarded rose on the floor, he silently stepped on it, grinding it under his heel.

If he could turn back time eight years, he would never have provoked Wen Xiuran.

________________________________________

Eight years ago, S University.

The height of summer, and the city of S was tightly wrapped in an invisible heat. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue, with a few white clouds drifting lazily, yet even they seemed tinged with an imperceptible restlessness. The light rain the night before had promised some relief, but the next day, the sun blazed even fiercer, pushing temperatures to new extremes.

The cicadas’ chorus rose and fell, and the campus buzzed with an unusual energy. Banners hung high, colorful flags fluttered. Every corner was meticulously decorated, brimming with enthusiasm. Volunteers in uniform uniforms weaved through the crowds.

“Damn, that omega is ridiculously good-looking.”

“Probably from the art department. He’s got a painting bag on his back.”

“Not many people carry those…”

Shen Yan wore a white short-sleeved shirt and light blue straight-leg pants, the slightly cumbersome black painting bag slung over his back splattered with vibrant colors. His dark hair was loosely tied up, a few stray strands falling carelessly over his shoulders.

The heat was unbearable. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, dripping from his lashes as he studied the campus map intently until an ice cream bar suddenly blocked his view.

Shen Yan looked up, puzzled.

A buzz-cut teenager in a basketball jersey looked at him somewhat shyly: “Hey, classmate… maybe you should take a break and eat the ice cream first. I can carry your art bag for you.”