The Husband From the Original Pairing is Now Divorced - Chapter 39

Chapter 39: Confession — Wanting an Older Brother

The meeting with Lu He was set for a Sunday afternoon. Zhou Zifei had originally wanted to stay by Sheng Jia’s side as before, but Sheng Jia firmly refused.

“I can go by myself. Besides, she’s my mom; she won’t actually do anything to me.”

Before getting out of the car, Sheng Jia emphasized this again to reassure him. Zhou Zifei sighed. He gently brushed out the strands of hair tucked into Sheng Jia’s sweater, his knuckles lingering helplessly against that soft cheek.

“Fine. The temperature is dropping tonight; I’ll come pick you up when you’re finished.”

He paused, then leaned in to peck Sheng Jia’s lips, adding a bit of heat and moisture to those cool petals. “Baby, remember not to wander off. Be good and wait for me.”

Zhou Zifei’s eyes were crinkled with a smile, his handsome features dazzling Sheng Jia in the sunlight. Sheng Jia pursed his lips, blushing as he tasted the lingering warmth Zhou Zifei had left behind. His tongue flicked out to lick it once, and his lips felt numb.

“I-I know. I’m going—” Sheng Jia hurriedly pushed open the door, leaving Zhou Zifei’s unfinished sentence behind.

After standing at the entrance of the cafe for quite some time letting the wind blow over him, Sheng Jia finally regained his composure and walked inside.

At the sight of that familiar back sitting at the table, the heart that had been lightened by Zhou Zifei sank again, dropping straight into his stomach, making him feel slightly nauseous. It was nerves; he was far too nervous. A mix of anticipation, sadness, grievance, and anger surged up the moment he saw Lu He.

“Jiajia…”

Perhaps there truly is a biological connection between mother and son; before Sheng Jia could even draw near, Lu He had already turned her head instinctively.

The word “Mom” stuck in Sheng Jia’s throat, unable to escape. He merely let out a muffled “Mm” and sat down across from her, head lowered.

Lu He studied him carefully. Seeing that he kept his head down as if refusing to look at her, her gaze drifted to his hands on the table. They were spindly, the wrist bones protruding, and the backs of his hands were so pale that thin, bluish-purple veins were visible.

He’s too thin. Her eyes began to sting again.

“Jiajia, after the last time we met, has your health improved at all?” Lu He pushed a cup of hot milk toward him. “How long has that been happening? Have you seen a doctor? Why don’t I take you to the hospital tomorrow?”

Sheng Jia gripped the cup but didn’t drink. At her questions, he simply shook his head and said softly, “It hasn’t happened in a long time. It’s no big deal; there’s no need for the hospital.”

Lu He hesitated but ultimately dropped the subject. They had been apart for too long. Looking at this son, she actually felt a flicker of strangeness. She couldn’t help but wonder: Is this still the same Sheng Jia who used to look up at me with wide, blinking eyes—the one who loved to smile and be clingy?

It seemed that over the years, Sheng Jia had become an entirely different person. I need to spend more time with him to get to know him again, she thought.

Rallying her spirits, she continued, “Jiajia, come stay with me for a while in a few days. I live nearby. From now on, you can treat it as your own home.”

Sheng Jia looked up, his tone flat. “I won’t live with Chen Lekang.”

He looked at her only once before shifting his gaze away. But the trace of rejection in his eyes was caught by Lu He; it felt like a needle pricking her heart.

“Jiajia, he is your—”

Lu He tried to continue, but Sheng Jia looked back at her, staring straight into her eyes. “I hate him.”

His face was like white jade covered in frost, bluntly displaying his resistance toward Chen Lekang. Lu He froze at his expression, the color draining from her face as she recalled the unprovoked punch Sheng Jia had thrown that day.

She leaned in closer, her voice almost pleading. “He is your brother. A brother of the same blood, Jiajia… Just think of it as having one more family member, okay?”

“Don’t resent him or hate him. It was my fault back then, but I hope you don’t take it out on him. The two of you are brothers—get along well, please?”

…

Sheng Jia felt a sudden wave of dizziness. It was like eating poor-quality cream—his throat felt oily and uncomfortable. Everything Lu He had just said now sounded to him like nothing more than a prelude to forcing a harmonious relationship with Chen Lekang.

There was nothing inherently wrong with her wish. After all, she was the mother of both. But Sheng Jia felt as if he were being abandoned all over again—his feelings and his thoughts were being ignored once more.

“Mom, have you thought about me at all over the years? Do you… do you still love me?” Sheng Jia asked hoarsely. Under the table, his hand was clawing at his leg, leaving red marks.

Lu He’s eyes widened in disbelief. She answered loudly, “How could I not think of you? You are my child. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you. I… I still love you now!” Her voice became sharp with urgency, and tears fell onto the table.

…

But love is not a cure-all. Sheng Jia knew she still loved him; after all, she had carried and raised him. But knowing that wasn’t enough to bring him peace.

Over the past few days, whenever he tried to accept her, the memory of the ten-year-old child huddled alone in a corner would look back at him with tearful eyes. If love could truly heal all wounds, he wouldn’t have divorced Yu Xianghang. Just as he couldn’t forgive Lu He for choosing to flee and leave him behind all those years.

Damage and pain are permanent.

Sheng Jia looked at her face, noting the wrinkles that weren’t there in his memories. His nose stung. He thought of her gentle hand on his forehead, her thin back shielding him from his father, and how hot her tears had been before she left.

This was his mother. They were family. He loved her, and he believed she loved him.

But—

Sheng Jia spoke each word decisively: “I won’t go to your place. That isn’t my home.”

The words were like a boulder thrown into a pond. Both felt the ripples in their hearts, but the space between them fell into a dead silence. Finally, Lu He reached out and placed her palm over the back of Sheng Jia’s hand. Her palm was cold and damp, like ice.

“Jiajia, do you not want Mommy anymore?”

For a moment, Sheng Jia looked lost and bewildered. He lowered his lashes, looking at their joined hands, feeling completely out of place. Her hand no longer felt familiar; the touch was entirely strange.

“I… I don’t know…” He moved his fingers, but after a moment’s hesitation, he didn’t pull away. His sharp stance began to soften. He didn’t know his own heart. He didn’t want to live with her, yet he didn’t want her to vanish from his life and be indifferent to him again.

He was expressing his grievance and unwillingness in a twisted, awkward way—like a child throwing a tantrum for attention. But he was thirty-two years old. The missing care from those years could never be replaced.

Lu He froze, then began to smile through her tears. “You don’t know… you don’t know… then let’s set everything else aside. Let Mommy just stay by your side for now, okay? I won’t leave you again.”

She squeezed his hand, rambling on about his work and where he lived, promising to cook for him. Sheng Jia’s arm remained stiff. He still wasn’t used to it. They were mother and son, yet he wasn’t even used to holding her hand.

Eventually, Sheng Jia was the first to pull away. He became even more taciturn. Lu He sensed he didn’t want to talk anymore, but she couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye.

Just then, a gust of wind rattled the windows. Sheng Jia looked outside. Pedestrians were huddling into their coats, rushing against the biting cold.

“The temperature is dropping tonight; I’ll come pick you up.” “Baby, remember not to wander off. Be good and wait for me.”

The image of Zhou Zifei smiling at him before he got out of the car surfaced. Sheng Jia’s somber eyes brightened. He looked at Lu He and said, “It’s getting cold tonight. You should go home early. We’ll talk next time.”

This soft tone and word of concern brought a flash of joy to Lu He’s eyes. “Okay, okay, Jiajia. I’ll wait for your call.”

They said their goodbyes at the door. Lu apologized again with tears in her eyes. Sheng Jia remained silent in the face of her tears but reached out to pat her shoulder once before quickly letting go.

He stood there watching her back until she disappeared. He looked up at the sky; as the air grew colder, the sun seemed to hide away. As the last bit of light vanished, a sudden sense of loss hit him.

But then, a familiar call came from his side.

“Hey—”

A hand gently ruffled his hair, and the streetlights flickered on at that exact moment. Sheng Jia turned to see Zhou Zifei standing beside him, bathed in the warm yellow glow, looking bright and welcoming.

The autumn wind was freezing. Sheng Jia was wearing a thick sweater, but it was a crewneck, leaving his pale neck exposed.

“I wanted to tell you to put on a scarf before you left the car, but Teacher Sheng ran off too fast.” Zhou Zifei had a camel-colored scarf draped over his arm. As he spoke, he wrapped it around Sheng Jia’s neck. “Let me feel your hands. Are they cold?”

Sheng Jia silently stepped closer and handed his hands over. Zhou Zifei frowned at the chill and tucked Sheng Jia’s hands into his own coat pockets. “So cold… keep them in here.”

Zhou Zifei’s pockets were still toasty from his own hands. Sheng Jia’s palms warmed instantly. The coat was high quality—soft and thick. He couldn’t help but push deeper, as if being held tightly by Zhou Zifei.

“How did the talk go?” Zhou Zifei adjusted the scarf, gesturing for Sheng Jia to lift his chin.

“So-so… She said I should just treat it as having a brother, a family member.” Sheng Jia lifted his chin, his breath forming a faint white mist. His eyes were downcast, making it hard for Zhou Zifei to read his emotions, but he knew Sheng Jia was hurting. To be abandoned for twenty years only to be told to accept the person who shared the mother he missed—Zhou Zifei felt a pang of heartache more intense than if Sheng Jia were crying.

“Baby… don’t listen to her.” He leaned down, their foreheads touching. Because of static electricity, red and black strands of hair tangled together, making them look inseparable.

“Why?” Sheng Jia’s lashes fluttered. He tried to look up but timidly shifted his gaze.

Zhou Zifei ran his fingers through Sheng Jia’s soft hair. “Teacher Sheng, try to be a little selfish, okay? Listen more to your own heart.” He pulled him into a hug. Even through the thick sweater, Sheng Jia’s shoulder blades felt sharp; he had thinned out so much in just a few weeks.

Sheng Jia nestled into the warm chest, surrounded by the faint scent of cologne. “Mm.” In truth, it was hard for him to do what Zhou Zifei asked. But the embrace was too warm, and the scent made him lose his resolve. He just wanted to agree to everything Zhou Zifei said.

As Sheng Jia grew drowsy in his arms, Zhou Zifei let go. “Come on, lift your head. Husband will put the scarf on properly for you.”

Sheng Jia snapped awake, his face flushing. “Talking nonsense again…” But his gaze drifted back to Zhou Zifei’s face—his thick brows, focused eyes, and straight nose. “Actually, I don’t want a brother,” he murmured.

“Then what do you want?” Zhou Zifei tucked the end of the scarf in, fixing his collar.

Sheng Jia’s hands tightened inside Zhou Zifei’s pockets. He buried the lower half of his face in the scarf. “I want an older brother (Gege).”

I want an older brother like you, who will put my hands in his warm pockets, wrap a scarf around me when it’s cold, and listen to me patiently. Someone who takes care of me like this.

Sheng Jia’s cheeks burned just thinking about it. To ask someone ten years younger to be his “older brother” was too embarrassing to say out loud.

“You want an older brother?” Zhou Zifei laughed. He flicked Sheng Jia’s long lashes with his finger, then looked around before pulling Sheng Jia into a small alleyway.

“Wha-What are you doing…?” Sheng Jia started to panic, but Zhou Zifei’s hand slid under the hem of his sweater. The words turned into a soft, coquettish mumble of complaint.

A warm, slightly calloused palm slid from his lower back to his soft abdomen. Zhou Zifei was careful, wrapping his own coat around Sheng Jia to block the wind.

“Tell me, what kind of older brother do you want?”

Sheng Jia’s waist trembled. His cheeks were crimson as he gripped Zhou Zifei’s wrists, trying to pull the hands out. He bit his lip. “H-How can I say it when you’re doing this…”

Zhou Zifei leaned in, kissing the bridge of his nose. “Doing what?” He gave a light suck, leaving a hot sensation. Sheng Jia tried to pull back, but Zhou Zifei held the back of his neck with just enough force to make him lose the will to resist.

“Baby, were you thinking in your heart that you wanted an older brother like me?” The large palm rubbed against him, making Sheng Jia itch and reflexively suck in his stomach.

“N-No… you’re too bad. I don’t want a brother like you…” Sheng Jia let go of his lip, which bore a cute tooth mark.

Zhou Zifei’s gaze darkened. He pulled him closer until they were pressed tightly together. “Really don’t want it?”

His voice was dropped low, magnetic and heavy. Sheng Jia looked up dizzily, meeting Zhou Zifei’s descending face. Their lips drew closer, exchanging warm breaths. Sheng Jia’s face was redder than ever; his tongue even poked out in anticipation, not noticing Zhou Zifei’s subtle smirk.

Zhou Zifei tilted his head, his lips missing Sheng Jia’s and landing on a burning earlobe instead.

“Ugh…” Denied the expected comfort, Sheng Jia’s tongue met empty air. He clutched Zhou Zifei’s shirt, tears welling in his eyes.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want it?” the man teased, still not kissing him.

Sheng Jia felt aggrieved. All his senses had been stirred. He blurted out, “I want it!”

“Want what?” the “villain” asked.

“Want you to kiss me…” Sheng Jia stood on his tiptoes, grabbing the collar to pull him in.

“Aren’t you missing a title?” Zhou Zifei lifted his chin, out of reach.

“Zifei… want you to kiss me…” Sheng Jia was desperate, his eyes glued to the man’s lips, his face flushed.

“Change the title.” Zhou Zifei pressed his thumb against Sheng Jia’s red, swollen lips. Sheng Jia opened his mouth, wanting Zhou Zifei to at least play with his mouth with his fingers.

“Baby, if you don’t say the title, I won’t kiss you…” His thumb slid to the corner of Sheng Jia’s mouth.

“Brother (Gege)… want you to kiss me. Hurry… kiss me—”

Sheng Jia finally got what he wanted as he kissed fiercely. From his teeth to his palate, from the surface of his tongue to the tip, Sheng Jia was “meticulously cared for” by his Gege.