The Husband From the Original Pairing is Now Divorced - Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Embrace – A Sanctuary All His Own

The noodles were clear chicken broth with a soft-poached egg on top, its golden yolk just peeking through, flanked by emerald-green vegetables and small dishes of appetizers.

Sheng Jia had no appetite and wanted to rush to the police station after a few bites. However, Zhou Zifei ate with focused dedication, as if determined to finish every drop before leaving. Every so often, he would ask Sheng Jia why he wasn’t eating or if the noodles weren’t to his liking.

Unable to bring himself to rush the man, Sheng Jia sat and ate obediently. Before he knew it, he had finished the entire bowl. With his empty stomach filled, the dizziness and weakness in his legs finally began to recede as he stood up.

Seeing a hint of color return to Sheng Jia’s pale cheeks—and even catching him let out a tiny, involuntary hiccup—Zhou Zifei’s lips curled into a shallow smile, and they headed out.

…

At the station, they first met with the man who filed the report.

“Are you Sheng Qianlong’s family?”

The man’s gaze first landed on Zhou Zifei. Seeing Zhou’s calm, unreactive expression, he naturally turned his attention to Sheng Jia.

“I am his son, but we rarely stay in touch. How much does he owe?” Sheng Jia asked. He showed little panic; he had long expected this day would come.

“1.2 million yuan.”

At the mention of the amount, Sheng Jia’s fingers twitched slightly, but he remained silent. Zhou Zifei frowned at the man, who quickly caught the hint.

“This amount isn’t massive for me, and I can earn it back soon. But I am absolutely sending Sheng Qianlong away. It’s useless for family to plead with me. Even if you could pay me back, I don’t want the money!” The man spoke with vitriol, clearly detesting Sheng Qianlong.

Sheng Jia wasn’t curious about the conflict between them. He didn’t want to know. Instead, an uncontrollable excitement surged within him. His breathing quickened; every cell in his body was screaming for Sheng Qianlong to go to prison—ideally to die there.

“Teacher Sheng?” Zhou Zifei spoke softly, placing his palm over the back of Sheng Jia’s hand.

Sheng Jia immediately flipped his hand over and gripped Zhou Zifei’s hand tightly. He squeezed so hard his fingertips sank into Zhou’s palm, his skin trembling and ice-cold.

“I understand. I will not appeal, I will not plead for mercy, and I will not pay his debts. Let everything proceed according to the law.”

The man watched as this thin, delicate-looking Mr. Sheng looked up, a bloody sort of resolve erupting from eyes that had initially seemed so gentle.

After reaching a consensus with the man, the officer asked Sheng Jia if he wanted to see Sheng Qianlong one last time. If not, he would be sent to court next week, after which visits would likely only be possible in prison.

“Yes. I want to see him.”

Sheng Jia declined Zhou Zifei’s company and walked into the detention room alone.

…

The light in the small room was dim, provided only by a single incandescent bulb. Sheng Qianlong sat in a chair, looking extremely agitated. The moment he saw Sheng Jia, he lunged forward, only to be jerked back by his handcuffs.

Sheng Jia found that he wasn’t afraid. He calmly pulled out a chair and sat across from Sheng Qianlong, observing him. Sheng Jia didn’t look much like the man; he favored his mother, Lu He, with refined features and eyes that seemed naturally inclined to smile.

“Sheng Qianlong, you’re going to prison soon.”

Sheng Jia’s voice was gentle. Because of his work as a preschool teacher, he habitually spoke with a slow, soothing cadence. This gentle sentence, however, was like a landmine exploding in the man’s ear.

“Shut up! Sheng Jia, you find a way to get me out right now, or I’ll beat you to death!”

Sheng Jia didn’t tremble instinctively as he used to. Instead, he smiled faintly.

“I have no way to save you. This was your choice. You should spend your time thinking about how to survive in prison.”

“You… if you don’t save me, I’ll release all those photos and videos! That red-haired kid doesn’t know about them, does he? I’ll tell him you’re just a piece of trash that everyone’s seen and touched!”

Sheng Qianlong began to rant incoherently. He didn’t realize that everything was being recorded in real-time. Outside the room, the police began to move. Extortion using personal privacy—Sheng Qianlong had just added more evidence to his crimes.

Sheng Jia didn’t say a word. He silently rolled up his sleeves, exposing his scarred arms.

“Do you remember this? Here, this is where you first burned me with a cigarette when I was ten.”

“And here… this is from when you locked me in the basement and pinned me down. When I fought back, you cut me with a knife.”

“And here—” Sheng Jia pulled back his collar, his fingers trembling as he pressed against two raised, flesh-colored scars. “This is where you hacked at me with a knife when I caught you installing a camera in my room.”

Sheng Jia stood up and walked toward Sheng Qianlong. With one hand, he lifted his shirt to reveal a burn on his waist; with the other, he grabbed Sheng Qianlong’s head, forcing him to look at the years of scarring.

“This one hurt the most. When you pressed the hot kettle against me, I could clearly smell the scent of my own flesh scorching.”

For a moment, surprise and confusion appeared in Sheng Qianlong’s muddy eyes, as if asking: Did I do this? Did I do this to my own son?

Sheng Jia felt no sadness, no pain. He felt only anger. Boundless, infinite anger. He never knew his heart contained so much of it.

“How can you not remember? You’re my father. Have you forgotten everything you did to your son?”

“Sheng Qianlong, I won’t save you. I will never save you. You call me trash? Fine, I’m trash. But you are about to become something far worse than me!”

“You’ll stay in prison for ten or twenty years. Maybe one day, you’ll die a broken, wretched death inside those walls!”

Sheng Jia gripped the man’s hair and pulled his head back forcefully, making him look him in the eye. The strength was so great that Sheng Qianlong began to howl.

“Let go! Let go of me!”

“How could I forget beating you? You used to lie at my feet like a dead dog. Now that you’ve found another man, you have the guts to lay a hand on me?”

“I’ll tell your man right now that you’re a filthy thing I touched all over as a kid! I’ll tell him about Yu Xianghang! I’ll tell him how Yu Xianghang used you! Let’s see if he stays with you then!”

Sheng Jia heard a crackling sound within himself, like something being ignited. He tightened his grip and slammed Sheng Qianlong’s head down onto the table with a violent thud.

Once. Twice. Three times.

For the first time, Sheng Jia felt a similarity between himself and Sheng Qianlong. He was craving violence to offset his trauma. This scene had played out in his mind countless times, yet as he heard the howls he had wished for, he felt no joy.

A beast roared inside him, shouting: Let him feel the pain I felt!

But it was also tearing at his own heart, making the pain even worse. Just as he was about to continue with bloodshot eyes, the door burst open.

“Stop! No violence!” “Teacher Sheng!” “Check the prisoner!”

The room was a chaos of noise. Police and Zhou Zifei rushed in, pulling Sheng Jia away while others checked on Sheng Qianlong. The man was fine; his forehead was red and he had a bloody nose, but he still had the strength to scream “Murder!”

Sheng Jia stared fixedly at the man. Seeing the bloody face, his whole body shuddered. Then, he began to spasm. His breathing became deep and rapid, tears streamed down his face, and his complexion turned white. His fingers cramped into stiff, claw-like shapes as he clutched his chest.

“Baby, baby, relax. Don’t get worked up. Come, I’m taking you out.”

Zhou Zifei half-carried, half-supported Sheng Jia out of the small room, pulling him into his embrace.

“Baby, hold it for a second. Count to three. Good. Deep breath in… now slowly exhale. Don’t rush.”

“You’re doing great. Let’s try again…”

Zhou Zifei’s back was soaked in cold sweat, and his arms trembled as he held Sheng Jia, yet his face remained calm and gentle. He cupped his hand over Sheng Jia’s mouth and nose to stop the hyperventilation and gently patted his back.

Only when he saw the violent gasping subside and the purple tint on Sheng Jia’s lips return to normal did his heart finally stop racing.

“Let’s sit. Lean forward. It’s okay, you won’t fall, I’ve got you.”

Sheng Jia’s grip on Zhou Zifei’s sleeve finally relaxed. His cold hand was taken into Zhou’s palm. As the pain in his chest faded, a cold sweat continued to pour down his body. Wet hair clung to the back of his pale neck, making him look utterly wrecked.

Sheng Jia thought: Zhou Zifei knows now. The past he had never revealed to anyone was finally out.

He didn’t regret it. He wanted Sheng Qianlong to admit what he did in front of the police to ensure he stayed in prison as long as possible. But he had still overestimated his own endurance. He thought slamming the man’s head would bring a vengeful joy. Instead, seeing the blood only brought back flashes of his younger, wounded self.

The child Sheng Jia looked at him with fear in his mind, making him feel like he had become another “Sheng Qianlong”—a cruel perpetrator who enjoyed hurting others.

“Teacher Sheng, are you feeling better?”

As he spiraled, his face was gently cupped by a pair of hands. He looked up.

Zhou Zifei was crouching before him, watching with deep concern. His hands were pressed firmly against Sheng Jia’s cheeks, which were stained with sweat and tears. They were so close their foreheads were only a hand’s breadth apart.

Sheng Jia blinked, and more tears fell.

“Teacher Sheng just gave a bully a beating, and that person is going to jail. Shouldn’t you be happy?” Zhou Zifei wiped away the tears with his thumb, chuckling softly to help him relax.

But Sheng Jia continued to cry silently. He didn’t understand why Zhou Zifei was still here, still touching his filthy face. He just stared at him, his eyes so swollen he couldn’t even see the man’s expression clearly.

“Teacher Sheng, it wasn’t easy to grow up so strong, to become such a gentle and powerful person.”

“You’ve done so well. You’re amazing. This time, you protected the past version of yourself. That is a very, very good thing.”

Zhou Zifei leaned in, touching his forehead to Sheng Jia’s. His eyes held a tenderness softer than white clouds.

Hearing this, Sheng Jia gave a muffled denial.

“N-no… I’m not good… I hit him…” “I couldn’t control it… I… I’m just like him… I’m not good…”

His lips were suddenly pressed by Zhou Zifei’s thumb, stopping his words. He felt the man’s warm, moist breath on his skin as they drew even closer. It was as if the next words were so important that Sheng Jia had to hear every single syllable.

“No. Sheng Jia, listen to me. You are nothing like Sheng Qianlong.”

“He is cold-blooded, heartless trash. You have a soft, warm heart. It’s right here…”

Zhou Zifei’s other hand pressed against Sheng Jia’s chest. His voice was low and steady.

“Thump-thump. Do you hear it? There are many people living in here. You will always be someone who knows how to love and care for others. How could you ever be like him?”

Following the sound of Zhou Zifei’s voice, Sheng Jia placed his own hand over his heart. The heartbeat felt like countless people inside his body pounding against the walls, desperate to say something.

Zhou Zifei intertwined his fingers with Sheng Jia’s, feeling the active pulse together.

“Do you know what they’re saying?”

“They’re saying… Sheng Jia, you’re not allowed to say you’re not good.”

“You are the strongest, bravest child in the world.”

“You are also the gentlest, best Teacher Sheng in the world.”

Zhou Zifei reached up to the back of Sheng Jia’s sweaty neck and pulled him against his shoulder. Stroking his damp hair, he whispered the final words:

“So never say you aren’t good. None of it was your fault. None of it was something you were supposed to just accept. Anger, resentment, pain—they are all normal. They are exactly what you should be feeling.”

Sheng Jia’s world went dark as his head was tucked into that shoulder. The warm, strong hand moved from the back of his head down to massage his stiff neck.

The perfect pressure made Sheng Jia go limp. His heart felt like a balloon that had been tightly inflated and was suddenly released, letting everything out.

“Ugh…”

It started as a suppressed sob, then turned into a total, soul-shattering breakdown.

In this moment, he truly shed his layers of repressed anxiety and became a child who could finally wail in pain. He just needed someone to tell him he didn’t have to accept the abuse, that he had the right to be angry and hurt.

Sheng Qianlong had told him he deserved to be beaten. Later, Yu Xianghang told him he just needed to stay behind him and do nothing. No one had ever given him the right to vent his emotions.

After they married, Yu Xianghang would often ask: “I’ve protected and cared for you all these years. Who else would treat you this well? What else could you possibly be dissatisfied with?”

Questioned like that repeatedly, Sheng Jia had become desensitized to his own internal suffering. His past became harder to talk about. Because Yu Xianghang was “good enough,” he felt he shouldn’t “bother” him with his problems.

Yes, “bother.” At some point, Sheng Jia had started to feel that he and his pain were a burden.

But now, someone saw the hidden, ugly scars of his life so clearly, accepted them peacefully, and affirmed him with sincerity. Someone told him he was good, and that he had every right to cry and scream in the face of the harm he had endured.

…

Sheng Jia clutched Zhou Zifei’s clothes with both hands, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder and crying out loud. He slid from the chair to his knees on the floor, but Zhou Zifei scooped him up, holding him tight.

He huddled there like a baby bird, while Zhou Zifei’s broad chest was the full wing that carved out a sanctuary just for him.

Zhou Zifei’s embrace became a warm, safe nest. If he could, Sheng Jia truly wanted to sleep here forever and never face another storm.