The Husband From the Original Pairing is Now Divorced - Chapter 28.1

Chapter 28.1: Appearance – “Baby, who is it?”

Zhou Zifei retreated slightly, but before Sheng Jia could dissatisfiedly chase after him for more, he lowered his head and stole another kiss.

“Teacher Sheng, is it okay here…?”

His hand gently kneaded Sheng Jia’s waist, his fingertips itching to lift the hem of his shirt.

Sheng Jia’s eyes were moist and his lips were flushed. He didn’t answer, but silently hugged Zhou Zifei tighter.

Zhou Zifei suppressed his excited breathing, lowered his head to capture those glistening red lips again, and slipped his palm beneath the shirt.

The moment that hot palm pressed against his skin, Sheng Jia couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. The end of the sound rose slightly, like a kitten being picked up by the scruff of its neck.

Zhou Zifei’s palms had light callouses, which made him itch and caused his body to tremble.

“Don’t… don’t touch there…”

Sheng Jia turned his head to dodge Zhou Zifei’s kiss and hurriedly caught Zhou Zifei’s hand that was wandering upward.

“Baby, it’s so obvious here, I can see it through your clothes. Don’t you want it?”

Zhou Zifei’s voice was hoarse, his tone coaxing. As he spoke, he lowered his head and rubbed his chin against the spot, making Sheng Jia cry out.

“Mm—”

This reaction made Zhou Zifei’s gaze darken further. His damp, hot breath fell upon Sheng Jia’s slightly open collar, and one leg forced its way between Sheng Jia’s knees. He then tightened his hold on that slender waist, lowering his head as if to bite.

Bang, bang!

Suddenly, the sound of someone pounding on the door rang out. Sheng Jia’s body jolted in fear; his misty eyes widened like a startled cat, and he instinctively pushed Zhou Zifei away.

Zhou Zifei was just about to “taste his prize” when he was pushed aside. Veins popped on his forehead, like a wolf cub whose prey had been snatched away, looking ready to fiercely drag Sheng Jia back.

But Sheng Jia dodged Zhou Zifei’s hand, nimbly ducking under the arm Zhou Zifei had propped against the wall, and shouted flusteredly: “S-Someone is here, I’ll go check!”

He clumsily straightened his clothes and ran toward the door, escaping Zhou Zifei’s side with crimson cheeks, not daring to look back.

He thought luckily to himself that the knocking had come just in time. If someone hadn’t knocked, he would have surely collapsed shamefully into Zhou Zifei’s arms by now.

And Zhou Zifei would definitely have used the opportunity to bully him!

His ragged breathing hadn’t settled, his heart was still racing, and his lips felt scorched, as if his mouth still contained something lingering.

In this state of panic and shame, Sheng Jia’s brain temporarily short-circuited. He opened the door directly without even asking who was outside.

Standing there was a disheveled, pathetic, and utterly unexpected person.

“Yu Xianghang?”

Sheng Jia cried out in surprise, his swollen red lips parting slightly. The “spring water” in his eyes rippled with bewilderment.

It was as if Yu Xianghang was someone who was impossible—and shouldn’t—ever appear in his life again.

“Sheng Jia…”

Yu Xianghang’s white shirt was crumpled, the collar stained with yellowish wine spots. The knees of his suit trousers were filthy with mud, as if he had fallen somewhere.

His eyes, usually clear and distinct, were bloodshot with heavy dark circles underneath. His dry, peeling lips trembled as he spoke Sheng Jia’s name.

“What happened to you?”

Sheng Jia frowned. He held the door half-open, his body blocking the view of the living room, showing no intention of letting Yu Xianghang in.

“I… I… I called you many times… I wanted to talk to you…”

As Yu Xianghang took in the person before him, his voice suddenly caught.

He realized that the Sheng Jia standing in the doorway had undergone a distinct change compared to the Sheng Jia in his memory—

Sheng Jia was wearing silk pajamas, his collar frankly open to reveal his scars. His pale, smooth neck bore a faint pink flush that usually only appeared when they were deep in intimacy. His hollow cheeks had become full and rosy, and his eyes, which used to avoid contact, now looked straight ahead, moist and bright under long lashes.

What Yu Xianghang couldn’t ignore were Sheng Jia’s lips.

The once pale lips were now red and slightly swollen, covered in a glistening sheen. The petal-like curve of the lower lip was particularly vivid.

The pale, haggard Sheng Jia in Yu Xianghang’s memory now looked like a branch of red plum blossoms in the snow.

Pure yet radiant.

Realizing this, Yu Xianghang uneasily reached out his hand, wanting to touch the person in front of him to confirm that Sheng Jia was still the person he was used to.

However, to his surprise, Sheng Jia dodged. A very distinct look of rejection appeared on his face.

Yu Xianghang’s hand froze in mid-air. His heart felt like a buoy floating on water, bobbing up and down with an ominous sense of foreboding.

“Yu Xianghang?”

Seeing him standing blankly at the door like he had lost his soul, not responding to anything, Sheng Jia grew anxious.

He gripped the doorknob, glanced back into the room with worried lips, then took a deep breath and softened his voice.

“Yu Xianghang, can we talk about whatever it is later? I don’t have time today…”

Before he could finish, Yu Xianghang suddenly grabbed Sheng Jia’s wrist, using so much force that a red ring appeared on the pale skin.

“There’s someone in your house.”

His voice was dry and raspy. He stared into Sheng Jia’s eyes, his tone not a question, but a statement of certainty.

“It… it has nothing to do with you. Let go—”

Sheng Jia had been pampered and coaxed by Zhou Zifei lately, cared for as meticulously as a baby. When he had a headache, Zhou Zifei massaged his temples; when his stomach felt off, Zhou Zifei warmed it with his palms. In just a few months, he had become much more delicate.

Suddenly being grabbed and pulled so harshly, tears welled up in his eyes from the pain. Feeling like he couldn’t bear it at all, Sheng Jia cried out.

The commotion at the door finally made Zhou Zifei realize something was wrong.

Yu Xianghang first heard the tap-tap of slippers on the wooden floor, followed by a dissatisfied yet magnetic male voice:

“Baby, who is it?”

It was a young man with red hair.

Before Yu Xianghang could clearly see the man’s face, he noticed the stranger was wearing the same pajamas as Sheng Jia. Before the man even finished speaking, he reached out and pulled Sheng Jia toward him.

With an intensely possessive and protective stance, he tucked the person into his embrace.

“You…”

Caught off guard by Zhou Zifei’s fluent use of “Baby,” Sheng Jia’s cheeks flushed. Recalling the intimacy that had just been interrupted, his chest felt an itchy tightness, and his breathing quickened imperceptibly.

That hot, powerful palm made Sheng Jia’s already aroused body feel even softer. Like a young bride who had been “loved” fiercely on her wedding night, he could only lean limply against his “husband” when guests visited the next day.

So, for a moment, Sheng Jia allowed Zhou Zifei’s palm to press seamlessly against his waist and accepted the title “Baby” with a burning face.

Sheng Jia was completely unaware that he was staring blankly at Zhou Zifei with a face like a peach blossom—a picture of utter infatuation.

However, Yu Xianghang saw everything.

From the second this young, handsome man appeared and hugged Sheng Jia, Yu Xianghang fell into an inescapable hallucination.

He heard his blood rushing toward his brain; his temples felt like they were being pounded by ten thousand sledgehammers.

He heard his heart thundering in his chest, screaming things he couldn’t understand, to the point where he wanted to rip open his chest and pull out his heart to hear what this abnormal organ was saying.

From Sheng Jia’s glowing eyes to his vibrant lips, and the way he instinctively leaned into this stranger’s arms—

Yu Xianghang watched in a daze as the words echoed in his ears.

Baby. Baby. Baby.

Someone was calling Sheng Jia “Baby.”

Someone was calling his ex-wife—whom he had discarded so casually and who was no longer young or beautiful—”Baby.”

Someone was calling such a rigid, pale, bland, and boring person…

Baby.

Yu Xianghang wanted to curl his lips into a sneer, to mock him or walk away with a pretense of coolness, but his feet felt nailed to the spot.

“Sheng Jia, who is he?” “Baby, who is this?”

Yu Xianghang and Zhou Zifei spoke at the same time.

The former’s voice was weak, yet he was forcing a sense of calm, making him look even more pathetic.

The latter’s tone was intimate and familiar, and as he spoke, he squeezed Sheng Jia’s waist.

Sheng Jia had been leaning in Zhou Zifei’s arms, his gaze glued to the lips that had just made him feel so good. The pressure on his waist woke him up, and he let out a soft, rising hum, still appearing a bit dazed.

Zhou Zifei chuckled, his hand stroking the soft black hair at the back of Sheng Jia’s neck. He called him “Silly Baby” in a doting yet coaxing way. He slid his hand forward, his thumb and forefinger gently cupping Sheng Jia’s chin to make him look at the door.

Sheng Jia’s ears turned red, his lashes trembled, and he whispered, “I’m not silly.” Then, as if finally realizing someone else was standing there, he reluctantly moved his gaze to Yu Xianghang.

Seeing this, Yu Xianghang’s face grew even paler. His eyes landed on the man’s hand lingering on the delicate skin of Sheng Jia’s neck.

He felt as if that hand was pushing him into a dark, bottomless sea, suffocating him until he was dizzy. One moment he was drowning, the next he was being fished out and placed on a burning stake, the flames making his bones and flesh sizzle.

“This is… this is Yu Xianghang, he is…”

Sheng Jia spoke hesitatingly. He kept looking at Zhou Zifei, nervous and unsure of how to explain.

Though he had told Zhou Zifei about the divorce and Zhou Zifei knew he had an ex-husband, given his relationship with Zhou Zifei and Yu Xianghang’s recent behavior, he didn’t want the two of them to clash directly.

His overly sensitive nature gave him a premonition that Zhou Zifei and Yu Xianghang meeting wouldn’t be a good thing.

“A friend, right? Mr. Yu found our house so early in the morning, and looking so…”

Zhou Zifei paused. He stepped forward, his broad back blocking half of Sheng Jia’s face.

“Is Mr. Yu in some kind of trouble? Jiajia and I just finished breakfast, and we don’t have a date planned for this weekend, so we have time.”

Zhou Zifei’s tone was sincere and friendly, appearing very willing to help, but his face told a completely different story.

His thick brows were lowered, his eyes were cold and filled with hostility, and only a sliver of a smile lingered on his lips.

Yu Xianghang was instantly ignited by that contemptuous, mocking smile.

“Get out of the way. What happens between Sheng Jia and me has nothing to do with you.”

Seeing the other man acting like the master of the house, Yu Xianghang interrupted stiffly. He reached out to push the tall man away.

“How is it not related to me? Jiajia’s friends are my friends.”

Zhou Zifei caught Yu Xianghang’s hand and shook it “enthusiastically,” but he used such force that Yu Xianghang’s knuckles let out a sharp crack.

“My surname is Zhou, I am…”

Sheng Jia, who had been listening silently, felt his heart rise to his throat. He had a feeling what Zhou Zifei was about to say, and the answer appeared immediately.

“Sheng Jia’s lover.”

Yu Xianghang’s chest was finally ripped open by those few simple words. A cold wind poured in, and his thundering heart shriveled from the chill.

He tried to find Sheng Jia’s figure, tried to see a different answer on Sheng Jia’s face, but all he could see was the top of a black head.

Sheng Jia’s silence terrified Yu Xianghang.

Why aren’t you speaking? Why aren’t you explaining? Why aren’t you denying it?

If this person is your lover, then what am I? What am I to you now, or… Am I no longer worth mentioning to others?

Yu Xianghang tried his best to control his trembling breath. He clenched his teeth, but the moment he tasted blood, he thought of the sea bass Sheng Jia had left in the kitchen before he walked out on the day they divorced.

That fish had long since died, smelling of fishy water, its eyes white and sunken.

Yu Xianghang had thought that the divorce Sheng Jia suddenly brought up wouldn’t affect him. Eating, sleeping, working—everything would stay the same.

But when he tried to scale a fish for dinner, his hand was cut by the knife.

As beads of blood fell onto the cutting board, Sheng Jia’s image in the kitchen flashed into his mind. He couldn’t remember which evening it was.

For many years, whenever he came home from work, he was used to looking at that slender back in the kitchen.

Sheng Jia would be wearing an apron from a supermarket promotion with faded red characters. His shoulder-length hair would be tied back with a black band. Amidst the busyness, half of his beautiful face would be stained with sweat.

When the range hood fell silent and the food was ready, Sheng Jia would lean against the kitchen door, poke his head out, and call out to him on the sofa: “Xianghang, time to eat—”

Yu Xianghang tried to recall the way Sheng Jia cooked. He had clumsily brought all the dishes to the table, but facing the empty seat, a sudden sense of loneliness and isolation rose in his heart.

Only the kitchen light was on. He sat at the dim table and finally took a bite of the fish, but all he tasted was blood.

He had forgotten to clean out the fish’s entrails.

…

Was the food from that night still in his stomach? Yu Xianghang felt a bitter acidity rising in his throat.

His body had become a giant biogas tank. The meals he had eaten with Sheng Jia, the mundane daily life they shared—the fish, vegetables, and meat that had piled up for so long were fermenting, constantly emitting the stench of rotting garbage.

“Sheng Jia… Sheng Jia, I need to see you, I need to see you!”

Bang!

Yu Xianghang’s sanity was completely detonated by the fragments of memories of every dinner spent with Sheng Jia under the evening lights.

His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale as paper. Combined with the smell of alcohol, he looked like a drunkard who couldn’t be chased away. He reached out his arms, trying to grab Sheng Jia behind the red-haired man.

“Can we talk?” “Sheng Jia, I… I want to see you. Can we talk for a bit?”

Talk? What else could they possibly talk about?

More words were stuck in Yu Xianghang’s throat, but he didn’t dare say them.

Sheng Jia, I regret it. I shouldn’t have divorced you. I shouldn’t have been distracted by a momentary pleasure. I miss you. I miss you so much. Can you not choose someone else? Can you not be with someone else?

“What are you doing!”

Zhou Zifei frowned and pulled Sheng Jia back into the room. His arm blocked Yu Xianghang, and he moved to close the door.

“Don’t… don’t close the door!” “Please don’t close the door. Sheng Jia, Sheng Jia, just for a moment, just for a short talk, okay?” “I… I…”

I miss you. I really, really miss you. I miss your cooking, the scent of your body, your smile, your hugs.

Yu Xianghang pressed his hand against the doorframe, his fingertips digging into the wall. He gripped the handle tightly, refusing to let Zhou Zifei close the door.

Zhou Zifei’s face was dark. He used great force to slam the door shut. The security door hit Yu Xianghang’s hand hard. Yu Xianghang cried out in pain but wouldn’t let go. His knuckles quickly swelled, and his short hair was wet with sweat against his forehead.

“Don’t go. Please don’t refuse to see me, Sheng Jia, I beg you…”

An office worker’s strength was no match for a professional racer like Zhou Zifei.