The Husband From the Original Pairing is Now Divorced - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: Still in Love?

Sheng Jia Finally Decides to Turn the Page…

The ward door closed softly. Hearing Zhou Zifei’s footsteps fade into the distance, Sheng Jia opened his eyes.

He propped himself up with arms that still felt a bit weak and reached for his phone on the nightstand. He wasn’t sure if Zifei had brought it with him to the hospital or retrieved it later; he didn’t dare think too deeply about it. He feared that by analyzing or asking, he would find an answer he wasn’t yet ready to process.

The screen was flooded with notifications—all from Sheng Qianlong. Sheng Jia scanned them briefly; they were all demands for money. It seemed the man had even gone to his apartment complex, only to be blocked by the security guards.

To Sheng Jia’s surprise, there were also several messages from Yu Xianghang:

“I’ve transferred 300,000 to your account. From now on, don’t involve me in your money issues with Sheng Qianlong.”

“The IOU is void. The 300,000 is your ‘break-up fee.’ Consider us even for that kick you gave me.”

The messages were sent ten minutes after Yu Xianghang had left his house. Seeing that Sheng Jia hadn’t replied, he had clearly grown angry, following up last night with:

“Sheng Jia, don’t push your luck. You’re seeing these and just ignoring them, aren’t you?”

“What, is 300,000 not enough?”

“If you don’t reply today, don’t bother replying ever again.”

It was now noon the day after “today,” and Yu Xianghang hadn’t messaged since.

Two days ago, Sheng Jia might have been frantic, explaining himself repeatedly to Yu Xianghang while feeling the sting of his words. But now, he felt nothing—only a sudden, overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

He no longer wanted to owe Yu Xianghang anything. In the past, they were lovers, a family; there was no “owing,” as every effort was for the sake of a better home. But as of two months ago, they were strangers. Yu Xianghang didn’t need to do this, especially after Sheng Qianlong had caused trouble at his company.

Sheng Jia opened his banking app to return the 300,000. He drafted a message to apologize formally and guarantee that Sheng Qianlong would never disturb him again. As for the photo… he told Xianghang he was sorry, that he hadn’t known it existed, and that if any compensation was needed, he could ask at any time.

Before he could finish the explanation, he saw a bright red exclamation mark.

Yu Xianghang had blocked him. For the first time ever.

Sheng Jia’s shoulder-length black hair fell forward, obscuring his profile as he stared at the red icon. He expected to cry or feel a sharp pang in his chest, but again, there was nothing. It was as if everything was unfolding exactly as it was meant to.

Calmly, Sheng Jia processed the return transfer through the payment app’s other channels. As Yu Xianghang had said, staying far away from his life was the right thing to do.

Sheng Jia looked at the wallpaper on his phone—a photo of the two of them. Realizing something, he opened the settings and changed it to a photo of a twilight sky he had taken while waiting for Zifei with Jiayi at the kindergarten. Then, he opened his gallery and began deleting photos one by one. When he reached their college graduation photo, his finger hesitated over the two figures in academic gowns. He clicked “Permanently Delete” but couldn’t bring himself to press the final confirmation.

The door pushed open. Zifei’s surprised voice rang out: “Teacher Sheng, you’re awake?”

Sheng Jia’s hand jerked. The final photo of him and Yu Xianghang was wiped clean.

Before his heart could react to the loss, his attention was pulled toward Zifei—specifically, the bag in his hand. A faint aroma wafted out. For someone who hadn’t eaten in a day and a half, it was dangerously tempting.

Zifei saw Sheng Jia’s eyes light up as he stared at the bag and couldn’t help but laugh. He looked like a hungry, greedy kitten.

Zifei sat by the bed, setting the bag aside. “Teacher Sheng, why are you staring at me like that?” he teased.

Embarrassed, Sheng Jia stayed silent, shifting his gaze from the bag to Zifei’s face, trying to hint that he wanted to eat. Meeting Zifei’s eyes made his face heat up, so he looked away quickly.

Before Zifei could tease him further, Sheng Jia’s stomach let out a soft grumble.

The sound cut Zifei off. A flush crept up Sheng Jia’s pale face. He instinctively covered his stomach and looked down, his eyelashes fluttering.

How pathetic! I should have just said I was hungry! He wanted to crawl under the covers and hide, but his limbs were stiff with mortification.

Zifei let out a soft chuckle but didn’t make a joke of it. He began unpacking the bag. “I brought some thin rice porridge. I let it cool down specifically so you could eat it easily.” He opened the container and asked, “I don’t know if you’re hungry, but would you like to try some?”

A wooden spoon was held out. Sheng Jia looked up to see Zifei holding a round thermal bowl, his eyes full of warmth. Zifei didn’t force-feed him, nor did he ask why he hadn’t spoken up sooner. He simply offered the food and asked if he’d “like to try.”

That strange feeling returned to Sheng Jia. Even though Zifei was much younger, he felt like an older brother, constantly mindful of Sheng Jia’s feelings in every detail.

“Um… thank you, Zifei.”

Sheng Jia slowly ate the lukewarm, fragrant porridge. Zifei sat beside him, casually scrolling through his phone, but Sheng Jia could feel the frequent, concerned glances being cast his way. It felt like being wrapped in a soft, warm blanket. He suddenly wanted to talk to Zifei.

But his life felt so barren and thin; he didn’t feel he had anything worth sharing. His mood dipped, and he began stirring the porridge aimlessly.

“Does it still hurt, Teacher Sheng?” “No.” “Is the porridge good?” “Very good…” “Then why do you suddenly look unhappy?”

Sheng Jia hadn’t realized Zifei was so perceptive—or perhaps he had always been, and Sheng Jia was only now noticing it.

“I… I want to talk to you, but I don’t know what to say,” Sheng Jia confessed.

Zifei blinked. Noticing the porridge was finished, he took the bowl and spoon, set them aside, and sealed the bag before speaking. “You can say anything. I’m happy to listen to whatever you have to say.”

“I’m… I’m a bit boring. I rarely talk to people…” Sheng Jia whispered, embarrassed by his own perceived awkwardness.

“The less you talk, the more you should talk,” Zifei said, turning to face him. His sharp eyes were steady and soft. “Otherwise, all that sadness and anger bottled up inside will eventually hurt you.”

Meeting Zifei’s gaze, Sheng Jia had an epiphany: This man is worried about me. He’s quietly caring for me because of the foolish thing I did. He wants to know why, but he’s afraid of hurting me, so he’s being incredibly careful.

Being watched with such devotion, it was hard not to feel the weight of one’s own grievances.

“The other day, my ex-husband came to see me. He…” Sheng Jia began, his voice self-deprecating. “He said some very hurtful things. I thought I didn’t care anymore since we’ve been divorced for a while, but when he showed up, I realized I was still heartbroken. Isn’t it pathetic? He found someone new so quickly, yet I’m the only one clinging to the past. When he insulted me, I even wondered for a second if we could get back together.”

“No, Sheng Jia. That just proves you’re a person who values feelings. You loved far more sincerely than he did. That’s not pathetic.”

Zifei used his name again, grounding him. Every time Sheng Jia belittled himself, Zifei would call his name with a solemnity that suggested this was a matter of great importance that required a serious rebuttal.

“It’s not pathetic at all. You have such a precious capacity for love; it’s the person who broke your heart who isn’t good enough.”

Sheng Jia smiled weakly. “Is that so? I always felt it was my fault. That I wasn’t worthy of being cherished forever, which is why I was abandoned.”

Zifei’s jaw tightened. The muscle in his cheek twitched with suppressed heartache, but he held it in. “How could you not be worthy? Sheng Jia, your life is so long. How can you decide you aren’t worthy of love just because you met one terrible person? Maybe there’s someone better out there. Maybe they’ve been waiting for you.”

The implication was so strong that Zifei immediately regretted letting it slip. But Sheng Jia didn’t react much. He just tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “I don’t expect those things anymore.”

“Why?” Zifei asked quickly. “Why not?”

“Because he used to be very good to me too. He took hits for me, stood in front of a knife for me. He even cut ties with his family for my sake. He said he’d love me forever, but in the end, he changed. So I don’t expect it. Even if I meet someone ‘good,’ the result would likely be the same.”

Sheng Jia spoke calmly, his pale skin looking almost translucent in the sunlight. Zifei was speechless. How could he argue? I won’t change? I’ll love you better?

“However,” Sheng Jia added, looking at Zifei with a soft smile. “I don’t think I’m against meeting new people. When I was lying in the tub after taking the pills, it was so cold and dark. I wondered: is this the end I wanted? I worked so hard for so long, do I really want to die in freezing water? When you pulled me out, I realized I still prefer warm, bright places.”

Zifei felt a wave of relief. He hadn’t expected Sheng Jia to be so open about that day.

“If I hadn’t met a new friend like you, maybe I really would have disappeared that day. Zifei, thank you for saving me.”

Sheng Jia didn’t know how to handle Zifei’s unusual intensity, but that didn’t stop him from being grateful. He valued their bond and Zifei’s kindness too much to pull away.

Zifei understood. It was precisely because Sheng Jia was this kind of person that he was worth everything. A surge of emotion rose in Zifei’s chest. He didn’t want to take it slow anymore. With someone as rare as Sheng Jia, every day spent not loving him was a waste of life.

He was a racer. When he hit the gas, he didn’t stop until the finish line. He decided to crash headlong into this man’s heart.

“So,” Zifei asked, “do you still love him?”

Every time he saw Sheng Jia dazed or sad, he wanted to ask: Are you thinking of him? Are you remembering your past with Yu Xianghang? He needed to know if there was room in that precious heart for him to fill.

Sheng Jia was stunned by the sudden question. He fell silent, looking down at his hands resting on the blanket.

Do I still love him?

He asked himself. Ten years of emotion couldn’t be erased in an instant. But he truly… didn’t want to love him anymore. Four years of dating, six years of marriage—all for an affair and a divorce. One had a lover by his side; the other was suicidal. How could love survive that?

But… they had loved each other. That dream of his past was real. Yu Xianghang had pulled him out of the dark once. He had felt that warmth. Even though Xianghang had pushed him back into the abyss, the love during those years was real.

And because it was real, letting go was the only way to find peace. He would always be grateful for the help Yu Xianghang gave him back then; without it, he might not have grown into the man he was today. But as of today, those feelings had reached their limit. Whether he “loved” or not was no longer important to either of them.

When Zifei pulled his unconscious body from the tub, as the pills were being purged from his system, he chose to forgive himself and leave the past in the past.

The silence stretched on until Zifei was about to change the subject. Then, Sheng Jia looked up. Bathed in the noon sunlight, with dust motes dancing in the air, he gave Zifei a faint, genuine smile. On his pale face, the smile was unexpectedly vivid and moving.

“Probably… not anymore.”

Sheng Jia had decided to turn the page on the chapter of his life belonging to Yu Xianghang.