The Popular/Charismatic Beta Always Thinks They Are Universally Disliked - Chapter 34

Chapter 34: Unreasonable Love (Two) – Wen Zhiyi Is A…

Wen Zhiyi is an extremely outstanding Beta. In academics, character, ability, and even appearance, he exhibited an extraordinary nature far beyond the ordinary. This greatly satisfied both Mr. Wen and Ms. Zhao; their forcibly stitched-up marriage finally had a reasonably good outcome.

Due to Mr. Wen’s profession as a physics professor, little Wen was deeply influenced and showed a profound interest in the field of physics from a young age. Sometimes, when he was still babbling and playing with his small feet, Mr. Wen would lecture him on a whim.

Of course, he didn’t understand, he would just reach out his chubby arms and demand a hug from Mr. Wen.

Mr. Wen was not stingy with a hug. Unlike Ms. Zhao Mingzhu, he concealed all his disappointment and dissatisfaction very well. Therefore, little Wen’s relationship with Mr. Wen had always been quite good. Coupled with little Wen’s apparent interest and talent in physics, the father stopped bringing up his dissatisfaction that the former had not differentiated into an Alpha or an Omega.

It is no exaggeration to say that the certificates Wen Zhiyi won in physics competitions from childhood could cover all four walls of his room. He could completely rely on physics competitions to participate in the autonomous recruitment of Jing University, choose physics as his major, and eventually pursue the same career as his father. This was originally the life path he had designed for himself.

It was a clear, excellent life path that met the Wen family’s expectations.

This life path was completely rewritten when Wen Zhiyi was seventeen.

Two things happened that year.

The first was that Gu Yansheng, who had sworn to love him forever, left without a word. Perhaps adolescent love is just like that: full of passionate vows, intense, and then ending abruptly without resolution. Wen Zhiyi calmly accepted this.

He just needed an answer, a reasonable right to know. Although he ultimately did not get it, it seemed to be fine, because Ms. Zhao Mingzhu had long taught him how to face this kind of situation.

The second thing was more troublesome.

The Omega protégé who frequently visited Mr. Wen forgot to take his keys after a gathering. Wen Zhiyi had a decent impression of this gentle older brother, so he unhesitatingly grabbed the keys, slipped on his slippers, and ran downstairs to return them.

In a rush to give the keys back quickly, little Wen did not tell Big Wen (Wen Zhijie) or Ms. Zhao when he found the set of keys, choosing instead to go down by himself. Seventeen-year-old Wen Zhiyi was certainly not a child, and why would Big Wen and Ms. Zhao be constantly monitoring what he was doing?

Thus, Wen Zhiyi saw Mr. Wen and his protégé kissing under the streetlights on a snowy night, less than a hundred meters from his front door.

Disgusting.

Wearing only a thin house sweater, Wen Zhiyi could only think of these two words in the sudden shock.

Truly disgusting.

He clearly heard the sound of his heart beating slowly, one beat after another, slow and stagnant like the weary sigh of a dying person. Then, after this brief pause, he was surprised to find it become rapid, loud, and unbearable, like an unseen person beating a heavy drum.

…Does Wen Zhijie know? Does Ms. Zhao Mingzhu know? When did they start?

Countless chaotic and urgent questions pounded like drumbeats in Wen Zhiyi’s mind. They ultimately condensed into an unbelievable, unacceptable, yet clear realization that contained profound pain—

Mr. Wen did this action under the streetlights less than a hundred meters from the house.

His father truly did not care about or respect this family at all.

When a distraught Wen Zhiyi returned home, Wen Zhijie noticed that something was wrong. The elder brother called his younger brother into his room and asked him if he had discovered something.

Little Wen slowly looked up, staring at his brother who was forcing a smile, and quietly asked, “Does Ms. Zhao know about this?”

Wen Zhijie slowly nodded.

Wen Zhiyi suddenly reached out to hold his brother’s hand, looking up at the brother standing before him: “When did you know?”

Wen Zhijie squeezed his brother’s hand in return, suddenly choked up. He knew what Wen Zhiyi meant, he knew why Wen Zhiyi asked this question—in the face of this sudden, reality-shattering impact, Wen Zhiyi’s main concern was how long his brother had been enduring this pain.

He smiled at Wen Zhiyi and said, “At ten years old, the night I learned you came into this world. That’s why I always say God is fair to me; the good news he gave me far outweighed the bad news.”

Different from the interaction style between Alpha and Beta brothers in a normal family, the emotion Wen Zhijie gave Wen Zhiyi was delicate and gentle, more akin to the stereotypical interaction between Omegas. This was because the rougher, more competition and dominance-oriented side of his Alpha nature did not have enough soil to grow.

Now, Wen Zhijie held his brother’s hand, sitting down knee-to-knee with him, and used his other hand to wipe the tears falling down his brother’s cheek.

Why is he crying like a child?

He thought helplessly.

But Wen Zhiyi had never cried this much even during his childhood.

He suppressed the sobs welling up in his throat and leaned his head against his brother’s shoulder, his entire body hunched over with immense grief, like a fragile creature convulsing in pain. Because the cruel truth would not stop its carving knife, he still had to ask Wen Zhijie:

“You… you were only ten years old then… How could you… how could you…”

How could you accept it?

Wen Zhijie knew what his brother wanted to ask, so he said quietly and firmly, “No, I haven’t accepted it. I will never forgive Wen Changming.”

But he couldn’t bring himself to hate Zhao Mingzhu.

Why?

This question didn’t need an answer, because Zhao Mingzhu loved him, because Zhao Mingzhu was also a victim, because Zhao Mingzhu was his mother after all… These were all answers, but none of them were answers he could say in front of little Wen.

So, Wen Zhijie could only do his utmost to love Wen Zhiyi.

In any case, Wen Zhiyi, who was taking the college entrance exam that year, ultimately revised his university application choices.

He could no longer become a physics professor, nor could he continue to study in this field.

The summer break between the ages of seventeen and eighteen quickly slipped away from Wen Zhiyi. He became a freshman at Jing University.

The new environment truly seemed to bring a better mood. Little Wen slowly began to reconcile with himself. In this short but sufficiently vibrant period, he met many, many people and saw many, many progress bars. Some of these people were relatively normal, while others were extremely strange, making him wish he could stop looking at the progress bars.

Some people wanted to invite him to dinner or hang out—this was normal, and could be treated as ordinary social interaction between friends. But some people would inexplicably message him in the middle of the night, and when he didn’t reply promptly or was too lazy to reply, they would claim that little Wen was disrespecting their “intention.”

—Intention?

Wen Zhiyi was a little slow on the uptake, just realizing that this was what they called “intention.”

Of course, there were also people who would give enormous gifts, but in that regard, who could compare to Gu Yansheng over the past eleven years?

However, little Wen was gradually forgetting that person. He had always adapted quickly, and this time was no exception.

Little Wen during his freshman year was not entirely the same as little Wen five years later. At this time, he smiled more and refused baseless accusations against himself. He was still undergoing a long period of self-identity construction, and had initially achieved some success.

His long-term internal struggle and adjustment had, currently, yielded quite good results.

For example, near the end of the first semester of his freshman year, little Wen disguised himself as an Omega without any psychological burden to attend a mixer dance between Jing University and Guomei (China Art Academy).

It was all for the academic credits.

He told himself this, and firmly believed he had done nothing wrong.

At this mixer, Wen Zhiyi saw two “ill-will values” with extremely high progress.

They came from two Guomei students who had arrived together.

The one with the progress bar at eighty percent was named Zhu Qiao, a male Omega who didn’t fit the traditional image: he had cool, striking silver-white hair, wore black nail polish and many accessories, and looked like a cool guy—tall, long-legged, with a fierce temperament. He was the kind of trendsetter Wen Zhiyi would normally go out of his way to avoid.

The one with the progress bar at sixty percent was named Chen Que, who had the typical Alpha appearance—extremely handsome, cold, and quiet. His superior genetics were manifested through his perfect physique, making him a walking spokesperson for the perfect Alpha.

Wen Zhiyi looked at the two hands simultaneously reaching out to him. After a moment’s thought, he smiled at Zhu Qiao.

He chose the one who seemed to like him more.

I’ll tentatively define the meaning of the progress bar as “liking.”

Wen Zhiyi thought so.

The theme of the mixer was, naturally, dancing. The highly responsible little Wen had quickly trained beforehand. He remembered all the steps, but he didn’t expect Zhu Qiao, whose hand was resting on his back and shoulder, to be even clumsier than he was.

After being stepped on by Wen Zhiyi countless times due to missed steps, the silver-haired cool guy nervously gripped little Wen’s hand.

After one song, dance partners should typically switch, but Zhu Qiao still held Wen Zhiyi’s hand tightly. He leaned close to Wen Zhiyi’s ear very naturally, panting slightly as he intimately said, “—Dance with me all night, okay?”

Wen Zhiyi looked up and smiled slightly, seeing Zhu Qiao clutching his chest and taking a few deep breaths. He felt strange and was about to reply, but in that extremely brief moment, a pale, long, well-defined hand resolutely pried Zhu Qiao’s fingers away one by one. It was Chen Que, who had silently watched them dance the entire song from the side.

Under the dazzling, kaleidoscopic lights, Chen Que stood calmly in front of them, separating Zhu Qiao and Wen Zhiyi. Completely ignoring the former, he said to the latter, “Mint candy, right?”

Mint candy?

Wen Zhiyi stared at him in astonishment. In a flash of rapid thought, he understood what the tall Alpha was referring to.

He subconsciously touched the gland protection patch on the back of his neck and gave Chen Que a standard, Wen Zhiyi-style sweet-attack smile: “That’s right, mint candy.”