The "Honest" Beta Deceived Day and Night by a Twisted Obsessive - Chapter 6

 New Transaction: Break off the engagement. 

Once the effects of the drug had finally worn off that night, Xie Yun had someone fetch the spare key to unlock the door. Duan Huaijing took the opportunity to slip away before anyone could see him.

After the sheer absurdity of that evening, he assumed he wouldn’t be seeing Xie Yun again for a while. To his surprise, they crossed paths only a few days later at a banquet organised by his mother.

Calling it a banquet was a bit of a stretch, as only a handful of guests had been invited. His mother’s ulterior motives were plain to see from the seating arrangements; she was blatantly trying to push Duan Huaijing together with Xie Ming, and his younger brother with Xie Yun.

Duan Huaijing didn’t particularly care who sat next to him. In the eyes of others, he was nothing more than a dull block of wood a man of few words who simply agreed to whatever was asked of him.

Beside him, Xie Ming ignored him entirely, busy flirting with someone on his phone. His mother shot him several pointed looks, but Duan Huaijing played the part of the oblivious fool and ignored them all.

His seat was poorly positioned. Not only was he unable to reach half the dishes throughout the meal, but the chair was so uncomfortable that his backside was beginning to ache. He shifted uncomfortably, praying for the evening to end.

He thought he was being subtle, but a quick glance out of the corner of his eye revealed that Xie Yun was watching him.

Duan Huaijing looked away, feigning indifference.

He truly couldn’t bring himself to face the events of that night with any composure. Every part of Xie Yun’s body, every minor movement, served only to remind him of that absurd, immoral, and searing kiss.

The lingering tingling sensation felt as though it were branded onto his skin. A wave of irritation rose within him, it felt as though he’d been splattered with mud. He dropped his arms beneath the table and rubbed them frantically, only stopping once his palms were hot and flushed.

His mother was still prattling on. Duan Huaijing hadn’t been listening, but his nerves suddenly pulled taut at the mention of a specific word.

“You’re all grown up now. When are you planning to get married?” His mother finally revealed the true purpose of the dinner. The night she had drugged Xie Ming’s drink, she had timed it so Duan Huaijing would arrive with a ‘hangover cure’ specifically to force their hand and make the union a certainty.

Xie Ming, who had been smiling at his phone, looked up with a deep scowl. His eyes flashed with undisguised annoyance. “Who? Me? With him?”

Xie Ming scanned him up and down with disdain.

Duan Huaijing gripped his chopsticks tightly, burying his face in his bowl. He was terrified that if he looked up, the others would see the venom in his eyes. He chewed slowly but with excessive force, as if he were taking his frustration out on the vegetables as a stand-in for Xie Ming.

What’s with that tone? Does he think he’s some kind of prize?

Where do you get the nerve? You’re a rotting cucumber, yet you still think you’re in a position to be picky.

I’d love to give you half of my insecurities just to take you down a peg.

Duan Huaijing poked the bottom of his bowl with his chopsticks, making no sound. Had anyone bothered to look at him, they would have seen his misery, but nobody pays attention to a puppet.

“Xie Ming.” Xie Yun’s deep voice carried a natural authority. Xie Ming’s mouth snapped shut, forcing back whatever retort he’d been about to make. He slumped back into his chair, acting the part of the local delinquent as he resumed replying to messages.

Xie Ming loathed this arranged marriage. If his fiancé were a cute, gentle Omega, he wouldn’t have minded so much. But the guy was a Beta and a boring one at that, with a face that looked like a background NPC.

What was there to like about a dull, “honest” man?

It was beyond tedious.

His mother’s gaze flickered between the two of them. She let out a couple of awkward laughs to smooth things over. “Well, feelings take time to grow. My eldest son is actually quite keen on this match.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Duan Huaijing felt a sharp pinch on his thigh. He nearly dropped his bowl.

“Isn’t that right?” His mother leaned in. Though she was smiling, her voice held a gritted-teeth quality, suggesting she’d happily take a chunk out of his flesh if he dared to disagree.

Duan Huaijing’s hand trembled as he set his bowl down. For some reason, as the question was asked, he instinctively wanted to look at Xie Yun.

But the moment he did, his mind spiralled. Seeing Xie Yun’s lips made him think of that feverish kiss; seeing Xie Yun’s hands made him remember how they had touched a place no one else ever had.

Across the table, Xie Yun sat with his hands crossed, veins bulging slightly. A simple ring on his finger added a sense of restrained, almost forbidden asceticism.

Those hands were large and searingly hot. When they had strayed across his body, they had sparked tremors wherever they touched.

Duan Huaijing tried his best to block out the surrounding stares. He took a deep breath and spoke clearly, despite his shaking voice: “Actually. It’s a bit early to be talking about this.”

Dissatisfied with the answer, his mother’s fake smile grew wider even as the force of the pinch beneath the table intensified.

The pain in his leg reached a point where it felt detached from his body. Duan Huaijing gritted his teeth and refused to make a sound. He knew that if he yielded today, he was truly handing his future over to others. Even before being with Xie Ming, he was already facing cold shoulders and constant problems; God only knew what life would be like if they actually married.

Xie Ming didn’t even look up from his phone, merely letting out a mocking snort. “You’d better mean that,” he said snidely.

His mother glared at him as if her useless son had just cost her five million pounds.

She hadn’t expected him to push back. Her son, who had always been a “yes-man,” was suddenly digging his heels in.

Now the golden opportunity was slipping through her fingers. The Xie family was high society; if they could just secure this connection, the whole family would be set for life.

Duan Huaijing kept his head down, eating the food in his bowl and pretending not to see his mother’s livid expression.

As the meal was drawing to a close, his phone rang. When he saw the contact name, his pupils shrank. Without a second thought, he grabbed the phone and bolted.

Behind him, his mother’s voice rang out, loud and cursing. He could still hear her even after he’d run quite a distance.

Duan Huaijing ducked into an empty room and shut the door before returning the call. In the brief moment before the call connected, he tried desperately to steady his breathing. His palms were slick with sweat, which he wiped away with a stray piece of tissue.

The second the call connected, his heart felt as though it had stopped for a beat.

“Hello? Auntie Lin,” Duan Huaijing said, his voice trembling.

“I just went to check on your grandmother, and she’s fallen out of bed! Oh, what a mess. I only stepped away for a tiny bit. I put her water, food, and the bedpan right within reach—I’ve no idea why she tried to get up. I’m worried sick. Get back here as soon as you can, alright?”

Duan Huaijing heard himself reply, “Sorry for the trouble, Auntie Lin. I’m coming right now.”

He hung up, yanked the door open, and sprinted for the exit, calling the hospital on the way.

By the time his grandmother was safely admitted and treatment had begun, Duan Huaijing and Auntie Lin had been at the hospital all day without a bite to eat.

Duan Huaijing cautiously closed the ward door and met Auntie Lin’s gaze in the corridor.

“Auntie Lin, have a seat. I’ll go and get us some food,” he said, his spirits low but his resolve holding.

At his grandmother’s age, a fall was terrifying. He’d seen too many elderly people pass away shortly after such an accident. The moment he’d seen her lying in that hospital bed, his senses had gone numb, replaced by a creeping dread that crawled through his body like vines.

He still hadn’t fully processed the shock. He felt as though the moment he stepped too far away, he would return to find she had breathed her last.

Auntie Lin pulled him by the arm to a chair in the hallway. She pulled two rolls from her bag and handed him one. “Eat this. Your grandmother is staying for observation, and everything costs money now. We need to save where we can.”

Duan Huaijing stayed silent, afraid that if he spoke, he’d reveal he was crying.

He practically shoved the bread into his mouth, swallowing before he’d even finished chewing. After a moment, he pulled out his phone to check his balance.

Three thousand two hundred.

He’d only just started a job that wasn’t yet stable, and now his closest relative was hospitalised. He had just over three thousand to his name.

His eyelashes fluttered. Without hesitation, he opened his chat with Auntie Lin and transferred three thousand one hundred to her.

Auntie Lin made a move to transfer it back, but he stopped her.

“It’s fine, please keep it. I’ve found work now, but I’ll need you to look after my grandmother for me. It’s a lot to ask.”

Duan Huaijing knew that after sending that money, he’d struggle even to feed himself, but Auntie Lin didn’t have it easy either. She was a neighbour from across the hall—a kind soul who helped out whenever she could.

He had received so much help from her growing up. At first, when he had no money to repay her, he tutored her children; later, when he started earning, he began sending her a sum every month.

He knew she helped because she was a good person, but he couldn’t just take advantage of her. Everyone had their own lives to lead, and he couldn’t let her kindness go unrewarded. Besides, with his job, he couldn’t be home all the time; having Auntie Lin there gave him peace of mind.

“But why is there an extra few hundred here?” Auntie Lin asked, seeing he wouldn’t take the money back but confused by the amount.

Duan Huaijing said, “I didn’t realise before, but I found out recently that the bank charges a fee for withdrawals. I’ve added a bit more to cover that.”

“Oh, you dear boy.” Auntie Lin’s eyes welled up. Looking at him, she thought of her own son. He was at an age where he should be able to rely on his elders when things got tough, yet he was living such a hard life. She felt like crying. “Why do you have to be so meticulous about everything?”

After a quick bite, Duan Huaijing checked on his grandmother again. Seeing she was still asleep, he decided to head off.

He had noticed Auntie Lin’s eyes darting away earlier. He knew she pitied him, thinking it was tragic that he had no mother to rely on.

But he didn’t feel pitiable. He had long since given up on the idea of maternal love, and he didn’t believe anyone could ever love someone like him. So, why should he care about someone pitying something he didn’t even want?

When he was little, his mother was too busy trying to fit into the family business to care for him. Forgetting his meals or failing to pick him up from school, leaving him to walk home alone, were regular occurrences.

It was his grandmother who couldn’t stand it and took him in. Later, when it was time for secondary school, his grandmother, hoping to mend the rift between mother and son, insisted he live at his mother’s house, as it was close to the school.

Duan Huaijing knew exactly how “close” that relationship had become over the years. He’d fantasised about maternal love at first, but the constant favouritism and senseless scolding had eventually turned his heart cold.

He didn’t want to live with his mother, but his grandmother insisted it wasn’t right for a child to be estranged from their parents.

She told him his mother was simply too busy when he was small and that they were just “out of practice” with each other after being apart for so long. She said it was normal and not to overthink it.

What mother wouldn’t be close to her own child?

Duan Huaijing hadn’t said a word, swallowing his tears and nodding. He never asked why his brother was allowed to grow up by their parents’ side. Why was everything provided for him? Why was it that everything Duan Huaijing could never have, others received so effortlessly?

Why? Was it his fault?

He was confused and angry, like a puppy trapped in a suffocating cardboard box, unable to find a way out, throwing itself desperately against the walls to no avail.

It was a stifling feeling.

He envied everyone.

Some people are born with money and love; others have at least one of the two.

But why did he have neither? He felt like a discounted loaf of bread nearing its expiry date, being squeezed for its last bit of value. To them, he was nothing more than a cheap commodity.

He used to comfort himself, but as time went on, he stopped craving affection. He began to loathe the idea of any intimate relationship. A title or a mutually beneficial arrangement was fine, but anything more than that was unacceptable.

He couldn’t control his envy. He was sensitive, too someone else’s offhand comment would often feel like a subtle boast to him.

Duan Huaijing boarded a bus after leaving the hospital and leaned his head against the window. He thought about whether to tell his mother about the hospitalisation, but decided against it. His mother was generous with her own spending, but she would curse for days if anyone else cost her a penny.

She wouldn’t pay for the hospital. At most, she’d offer some verbal concern, bring a fruit basket to the ward to take a photo for social media to show off her “filial piety,” and then take the basket back with her when she left.

The bus was bumpy, and the mix of smells inside made him feel as though he were being suppressed by pheromones, despite being a Beta.

He felt like he might be sick.

He cracked the window open slightly, taking cautious breaths of the outside air.

Once he felt a bit more human, he checked his phone. Not a single message.

It was normal. It was better this way; he didn’t want people prying into his life.

He stretched his neck, tucked his chin and nose into his collar, and closed his eyes. He’d only been dozing for a couple of minutes when his phone chimed.

The eerie red eye appeared at the top of his chat: Just left the hospital. Have you eaten?

Duan Huaijing’s sleepiness vanished instantly. He sat bolt upright and scanned his surroundings, suspecting the “Eye” was right there.

Looking for me?

Duan Huaijing looked down and tapped out a reply: “Stop pretending. I see you.”

The “Eye” flickered with “typing” for a moment before sending: Then you’re in danger.

Duan Huaijing didn’t understand. “Why?”

If I cross paths with you right now, I’ll tie you up and take you home immediately.

Duan Huaijing stared at the words for a second, lost in thought.

Certain that the “Eye” wasn’t actually there, Duan Huaijing let out a sigh of relief. He slumped back into his seat, burying his nose in his collar to catch the scent of laundry detergent on his clothes. “Go look up Chinese law.”

Have you eaten?

The other person was remarkably persistent on this topic.

“Yes.”

As long as his stomach wasn’t empty, a bread roll counted as lunch.

The “typing.” indicator appeared for a long time.

Duan Huaijing locked his screen and looked out at the bus.

The vehicle stopped and started, people getting on and off. Some faces he didn’t even register; with others, he’d strike up a conversation out of interest, only for them to leave at their stop without a second thought. Everyone understood that a promise to see each other again was usually a lie.

It was strange. When he first boarded, he felt unhappy, but not to the point of being inconsolable. Yet, after that brief back-and-forth with the “Eye,” he suddenly realised.

He must have been quite miserable when he first got on, because he felt a little better now.

It was as if a heavy black cloth had been draped over his heart, making him restless and stifled, but now someone had lifted a corner to let a cool breeze in. For once, he felt relaxed.

It wasn’t the end of the world. He might be broke, but his grandmother was still alive. He was young, he had a job, and he could still earn money through his drawings. This misery was only temporary. Life goes on day by day, and as long as you’re alive, things will eventually look up.

His screen lit up. Duan Huaijing tapped the message.

I know you’re short on cash. Want to make another deal?

Duan Huaijing swallowed hard. It felt as though a delicious chicken leg had been placed in front of him, but he wasn’t sure if it was poisoned.

“What deal?”

Break off your engagement with Xie Ming.

Just that?

To be honest, even if the “Eye” hadn’t mentioned it, he would have broken it off anyway; he just hadn’t found the right moment.

This was almost too ea.

You have ten days.

Too difficult.

The light in Duan Huaijing’s eyes dimmed.

He barely ever saw Xie Ming. On the rare occasions they did meet, the man either ignored him or threw a couple of snide remarks his way. It never lasted more than three minutes.

In those three minutes, he had to find a fault in the man, use it to demand a breakup, and get him to agree. It seemed impossible.

Xie Ming didn’t like him, but the reason he hadn’t broken off the engagement all these years was because Xie Yun and the family matriarch were pressuring him.

He remembered a dinner they’d had with the Xie family before he even knew he had a fiancé. Xie Yun and Old Mrs. Xie had looked him over and seemed quite pleased. Even Xie Yun, with his cold, expressionless face, had actually said: “He’s quite good.”

This was “Hell Mode” difficulty. It looked like he only had to deal with Xie Ming, but in reality, he had to get past Xie Yun and the old lady, too.

How on earth was he supposed to get Xie Yun to agree to him breaking up with his brother?

His mind raced for a few seconds before he tried to haggle for more time. “Xie Ming’s brother is a tough nut to crack. It won’t be easy. Give me a few more days.”

The reply came quickly, sounding entirely non-negotiable: Ten days. That’s it.

Duan Huaijing cursed under his breath. What’s the rush? You’re acting like a nightmare client. I treat you like a human and you start acting like a god.

He typed: “Do you have some kind of grudge against Xie Ming?”

No.

Duan Huaijing looked at the “Red-Eyed Freak” on his screen and snorted.

No grudge, no enmity, he was just looking for trouble.

The “Red-Eyed Freak” was like a gloomy ghost lurking in the shadows, seeping into every crack of his life, binding him tightly. He refused to let any trace of anyone else remain on him—not even a title.

Paranoid, obsessive, and inherently dangerous.

You have no idea. Every time I see you standing next to him, I can barely stop myself from shagging you right in front of his face.

Support