The Husband From the Original Pairing is Now Divorced - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Freedom — An Opportunity Appears Before Sheng Jia

Upon returning home, Sheng Jia leaned wearily against the sofa, his fingertips still trembling with tension.

He was never good at processing his own emotions. Seeing Chen Lekang’s self-satisfied and indifferent attitude earlier had sparked a rare sense of disgust and impatience within him. This was unusual for Sheng Jia; he was someone who had long habituated himself to absorbing and tolerating the negativity of others.

Perhaps it was the words Zhou Zifei had spoken before their meeting that had finally pried an opening in his ice-bound defenses. His pent-up frustration had leaked out, prompting him to throw back words that were uncharacteristically sharp.

As he walked out of the cafe, Sheng Jia realized it was actually quite simple. It was entirely possible to treat everything related to Yu Xianghang with total disregard.

Buzz. Buzz.

His phone vibrated. It was another message from Sheng Qianlong.

Feeling helpless, Sheng Jia finally began to sift through the previous chat logs. As he read, his brow furrowed deeper.

Sheng Qianlong had gone gambling again. This time, the creditor had made him sign a contract; if he didn’t pay back the money, he would be sued for “large-scale fraud.” In the messages, Sheng Qianlong cursed the creditor repeatedly, claiming the man didn’t actually need the money but was hell-bent on driving him into a corner, almost as if he were waiting for Sheng Qianlong to go to prison.

Sheng Jia knew his father’s character all too well. When the family had money, Sheng Qianlong was a profligate big spender. After the divorce, without funds, his gambling had scaled down significantly. Sheng Jia only gave him 3,000 yuan a month, plus the 50,000 from last time. Logically, Sheng Qianlong shouldn’t have been able to gamble away much, as he knew he couldn’t pay it back.

So, how much did he lose this time to be in such a state of panic?

“He asked me for 500,000. He said I forced you in the past and that he should get ‘compensation’ for the pleasure I had.”

Yu Xianghang’s words flashed through his mind again.

Like a bolt of lightning, Sheng Jia’s first instinct wasn’t to wonder how to raise the money. His heart raced as he realized a possibility: an opportunity to permanently rid himself of Sheng Qianlong was right in front of him.

500,000 yuan.

If the charge was fraud, and the amount was 500,000…

Sheng Jia opened his browser and searched for sentencing guidelines for fraud involving 500,000 yuan or more. The words “ten years to life imprisonment” on the screen made his breath hitch. He knew Sheng Qianlong owed more than just 500,000, and this amount was enough to keep him behind bars for a very long time.

…

This wasn’t the first time Sheng Jia had seen such an opportunity.

At age 11: From a tiny basement window, he showed his wounds to a passing landlord, hoping the police would take Sheng Qianlong away. Instead, the landlord’s door was smashed by his father, and they fled in the middle of the night.

At age 16: After being forced to drop out, Sheng Jia stole money to pay his tuition. Sheng Qianlong caught him; a kettle of boiling water was pressed into his side. The agony of burning flesh ensured he never touched his father’s money again, forcing him to work odd jobs for school fees.

At age 19: Sheng Qianlong asked him to research high-paying jobs online. Sheng Jia discovered hidden surveillance footage—his father was selling videos of his private daily life. It was his first real rebellion; he smashed the cameras and screamed about calling the police. Sheng Qianlong slashed his chest twice with a blade.

Sheng Jia spent a month in the hospital. Since then, he never confronted the man directly. He slept in restaurant kitchens and subway tunnels. With his ID and household registration held hostage by his father, refusing to go home for the night was the greatest act of defiance he could manage.

Later, Sheng Qianlong discovered his relationship with Yu Xianghang and used it to blackmail him. Yu Xianghang even took a knife wound for him. Yet, Yu Xianghang believed the father was just “blinded by rage,” unaware of the dark history, and constantly urged Sheng Jia to reconcile like a “normal” family.

Afraid of being loathed by Yu Xianghang if he spoke the truth, Sheng Jia’s closest chance at freedom had been declared a “failure” by Yu Xianghang’s own hand two months ago.

For years, Sheng Jia felt he lacked luck. Later, he felt he lacked courage. He once thought all his luck was spent on meeting Yu Xianghang. Now, he no longer expected something as ethereal as luck; he just wanted a spark of courage.

Sheng Jia gripped his phone, the pale veins on the back of his hand bulging. He stared at the screen as the notification sounds chimed repeatedly, signaling the sender’s desperation.

“I only have 50,000 on hand. Use that first, I’ll give you the rest next week.”

His fingers trembled. Sheng Jia bit down hard on his thumb, the pain anchoring his wild hatred. His usually smiling eyes were dark and sunken now, his pupils constricted, holding a terrifying glint of light in their depths.

He wanted Sheng Qianlong to owe even more.

Since his father had provoked someone unusual this time, Sheng Jia would ensure he was crushed so thoroughly that there was no hope of ever standing back up.

After receiving the money, Sheng Qianlong stopped messaging—likely heading straight back to the casino to try and turn it into more. Sheng Jia could almost hear the clinking of chips and his father’s bloodshot eyes screaming “Double down!” while onlookers snickered at the gambler’s ruin.

Go ahead and gamble. Gamble all your money. Gamble your life. And finally, die with nothing.

Sheng Jia’s nails dug into his palms. His eyes were red as he stared at the blank wall, his pale lips moving slightly, whispering a sincere prayer for Sheng Qianlong to die in that casino. His vision blurred, and the sofa felt like it was collapsing beneath him. He was lost in a trance, imagining his father’s wretched demise, unaware that his breathing had become shallow and rapid, his chest heaving with a hatred so intense his limbs began to spasm.

…

“Teacher Sheng! It’s my phone call! Answer it, Teacher Sheng—!”

A child’s bright, innocent voice suddenly cut through the ugly, hazy fantasies in his mind. Sheng Jia jerked upward, his features contorted in pain. He clutched his tight chest, making sharp, gasping sounds, before collapsing sideways onto the sofa. He buried his face in the cushions, his back heaving as his hyperventilation finally slowed.

The phone continued to ring persistently. After it hung up automatically, it started again: “Teacher Sheng, it’s my phone call!”

Sheng Jia’s paralyzed brain began to function again. It was Zhou Jiayi’s voice. This ringtone had been set by the boy when Zhou Zifei came to pick him up once. At the time, Zhou Zifei had been slightly annoyed, grumbling that since it was his number, he should have been the one to record the greeting.

Slowly, Sheng Jia regained his senses. His damp lashes flickered, and his vacant gaze focused. His black hair was soaked with sweat, and his shirt clung to his skin—he looked like a drowning man just pulled from the water.

With a trembling hand, he pressed the screen several times before finally connecting the call.

“Teacher Sheng! It’s Jiayi! Can you hear me?”

Jiayi’s cheerful voice came through. Sheng Jia swallowed hard, forcing a raspy “Yes” from his dry throat.

“Why is your voice so small? Are you still feeling unwell?”

The boy’s tone shifted to worry. Sheng Jia shifted his face, pressing his chin against the receiver, suppressing his erratic breathing. “No…”

“That’s good! Teacher Sheng, I wanted to ask if we can go out this weekend?”

Sheng Jia remained silent, coughing hoarsely while covering the mic.

Jiayi continued happily, “Let’s go to the amusement park! Uncle said there’s an aquarium inside, and there’s way more fun stuff and food than the regular aquarium!”

“Uncle! Why are you taking the phone—”

There was a slight scuffle on the other end. Jiayi’s voice faded, replaced by a soft, magnetic male voice.

“Teacher Sheng, are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Sheng Jia closed his eyes, tears finally falling. He desperately wanted to tell Zhou Zifei how much he was hurting, but…

“I’m fine. I just got home and I’m a bit tired.”

Sheng Jia pinched the skin of his forearm to keep his voice steady and clear, hiding any sign of distress.

There was a moment of silence on the other end. Then: “Okay. I understand.”

“Teacher Sheng, I’ll bring some dinner over later. If you’re tired, get some rest first.”

Zhou Zifei’s voice was steady as usual, but Sheng Jia felt that he knew. He knew Sheng Jia wasn’t okay; he saw through the “I’m fine.”

Sheng Jia stopped speaking, letting the phone simply transmit the sound of his breathing. He curled his arms around his waist, pulling his knees to his chest. The narrow sofa felt more than large enough for his huddled frame.

The other side went quiet too. Through the phone, their breathing briefly mingled. Listening to that faint, steady sound, Sheng Jia’s consciousness drifted until he finally succumbed to sleep.