The White Moonlight Omega Has Amnesia and Always Tries to Seduce Me - Chapter 43

The light white gauze curtain was lifted by the wind, and a ray of pure white sunlight streamed in from the window.

The top two buttons of the Omega’s shirt were undone, his jagged collarbone half hidden, and his clean skin was marked with distinct teeth marks. Especially on the side of his neck, three teeth marks overlapped, partially concealed by his dark hair, giving rise to wild speculation.

The Alpha’s tightly clutched ankle skin was scorching hot. The blood vessels in that spot seemed to have lost their vitality at that moment, becoming heavy and tense. When Qin Huai’s soles, in contact with the soft texture of his socks, stepped into the slippers, a wave of numbness flowed through him, making him slightly cautious.

“What’s wrong?” Shen Zhi asked, noticing the strange way Qin Huai was walking.

Qin Huai’s slender fingers gathered his collar, and he turned to give her a cold, side-eye. “Who gave you permission to stand this close to me?” he asked.

Shen Zhi rubbed her nose and took a small step back.

The arrogant Omega only then relented, and in the last second before leaving the bedroom, his voice carried a tone of superiority, “Don’t come near me without my permission.”

With that, Qin Huai left the room. Shen Zhi stood behind, turning to look at the messy bedroom, where the scents of orange and sandalwood tightly intertwined like vines.

Shen Zhi knew in her heart that Qin Huai was sober now and was settling accounts.

Settling the account for not obeying his command on the first day of his heat and insisting on her actions.

For the past three days, the two of them had been intertwined in the bedroom, rarely leaving except for essential needs. Consequently, the living room now only carried the aroma of the dishes placed on the dining table, without any other lingering scent.

Qin Huai sat at the dining table. Before his eyes was a large bowl of Tengjiao (Sichuan peppercorn) fish. Golden-yellow broth floated with bright green peppercorns, and milky-white tofu adorned the sides of the fish. Next to it were simple side dishes. The Alpha who cooked was thoughtful, placing cut oranges on the side, which looked particularly tempting.

Qin Huai picked up his chopsticks, put a piece of fish on his rice, lowered his neck, and took a small bite. The numbing sensation spread between his lips and teeth, but the flavor wasn’t overly monotonous. After a chew, a subtle heat slowly emerged.

Qin Huai raised an eyebrow, surprised that Shen Zhi’s cooking was so delicious. He looked over with some surprise, only to find Shen Zhi standing beside the table, looking at him with an expectant gaze.

Qin Huai swallowed the food in his mouth, frowned, and asked, “Why don’t you sit down and eat?”

“Without your permission, I dare not sit.”

In bed, you weren’t that obedient, Qin Huai thought to himself. He continued to put his chopsticks back into the fish bowl, lowering his eyelashes, focusing his eyes, and casually saying, “Sit.”

Shen Zhi curved her brows and sat opposite Qin Huai.

Qin Huai ate quickly, but his movements were refined, almost never giving a sense of being crude. When Shen Zhi was halfway through her rice, Qin Huai had already put down his bowl and leaned back in his chair.

“Are you full?” Shen Zhi asked.

Qin Huai pulled a tissue, wiped his mouth where there was no visible moisture, and gave a light “Mm” through his nose.

Shen Zhi then got to the point, her tone serious: “During your two days of heat, I had someone check your lab’s surveillance. It was Hao Yan.”

Qin Huai corrected his posture, tossing the used tissue into the trash can, and gestured for her to continue.

“However, the surveillance only shows her covering your mouth and nose at the lab door. After you passed out, she took you to the changing room, and there are no cameras installed in the changing room, so no one knows what happened inside.”

The corners of Qin Huai’s mouth were flat, and a hint of coldness flashed in his eyes.

Shen Zhi said, “I originally wanted to find Hao Yan, but I couldn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Shen Zhi: “It means she disappeared after that night.”

This result was somewhat absurd. A living person, an Omega who was just bouncing around a second ago, had disappeared. Qin Huai looked somewhat incredulous. “Did you report it to the police?”

Shen Zhi shook her head. “The official explanation is that Hao Yan took leave to go home.”

“Then how did you deduce that she disappeared?”

“I had someone investigate. Her home is far from here; it takes half a day by plane and probably two days by train. The person I entrusted could not find any ticket purchase information for her, so someone must be lying or covering up.” Shen Zhi paused for half a second after speaking, her expression more serious than ever. “I will definitely investigate this matter thoroughly. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The living room fell silent after the Alpha finished her last sentence, with only the crisp chirping of birds outside the window.

Qin Huai looked away from the heavy gaze, running a hand through the hair piled on his neck. He was exceptionally casual around Shen Zhi, whether in posture or tone of voice, no longer maintaining the full sense of distance he had at school. He rarely wore scent patches here; the gland on the back of his neck was exposed to the air, becoming lively and unrestricted.

A faint scent of orange drifted through the living room.

Qin Huai took a piece of orange from the plate and lowered his gaze, peeling it with his pair of pure white fingers. He didn’t know where the oranges were from, but they were surprisingly juicy. Qin Huai’s fingertips were stained with orange juice.

He handed the peeled orange to Shen Zhi, his tone as indifferent as always, “Thank you.”

Shen Zhi never held back on Qin Huai’s rewards. Sometimes, when her mischievous side emerged, she would even push the boundaries further.

The orange was cut into crescent shapes. The Omega peeled off one side of the orange peel, and his fingertips were damp with orange juice.

Shen Zhi stood up from her seat, propping one hand on the table. Under the Omega’s increasingly cold expression, she bit directly into the plump segment of fruit with her teeth.

The orange’s texture was not overly sweet, but slightly sour and tart.

The Alpha lifted her eyelids, observing Qin Huai’s every move with an overly revealing gaze. Her movements were slow. Once the orange was finished, and before Qin Huai impatiently pulled his hand away, she grabbed Qin Huai’s slender wrist again.

“Didn’t finish,” Shen Zhi said. Her lips parted slightly, and she drew Qin Huai’s clean index finger into her mouth, the wildness in her eyes becoming even more pronounced.

The sound of water in the air was slow and clear.

Qin Huai’s face was cold. When Shen Zhi’s mischievous act ended, he pulled a tissue over the licked finger, lowered his eyelashes, and said, “I’m leaving.”

Shen Zhi sat back on the stool, asking in confusion, “Where are you going?”

“School.” His finger was finally clean, but the previous sensation still lingered on his skin. Qin Huai made a listless judgment: “You are too disobedient.”

Then, the crumpled tissue was tossed back into the wastebasket.

He absolutely had to return to school. Even with Shen Zhi’s pitiful gaze, Qin Huai was exceptionally firm, changing his clothes and leaving without looking back. He needed a place to calm down. During the three absurd days with Shen Zhi, even though he was in heat, he clearly remembered everything. Saying something like he had no feelings for Shen Zhi would be too heartless.

Qin Huai sighed heavily, too weary to deal with his and Shen Zhi’s messy relationship now.

As April began, the temperature always took a sharp turn. The temperature plummeted before the Qingming Festival, with continuous light rain falling intermittently.

On the Qingming Festival, Qin Huai turned off all social media and quietly went to the cemetery alone.

He stepped out of the taxi, holding a clear umbrella and a bouquet of chrysanthemums. The flowers seemed to have been deliberately chosen; the yellow petals bloomed especially vividly in the mist.

Qin Huai followed the directions to Gu Qing’s grave. From a distance, he saw a tall man holding a black umbrella, standing in front of the tombstone. The broad black suit looked particularly lonely in the drizzling rain.

It was his father Qin Zhijing.

Qin Huai stood still, not very eager to go over, the mocking smile on his lips growing deeper.

When Qin Huai was very young, his maternal grandmother’s mention of Qin Zhijing evolved from initial dissatisfaction to eventual vulgarity. His grandmother told him that Qin Zhijing was a hypocrite, skilled at all forms of pretense. His mother had been deceived by him and eventually ended up committing suicide.

And those photos confirmed his grandmother’s words.

If an Alpha truly loved his Omega, how could he watch her become emaciated and depressed?

And now, why was he pretending to be deeply affectionate? Who was he trying to put on a show for?

The smile in Qin Huai’s eyes grew colder. He took his steps and cruelly broke the scene.

“Dad,” Qin Huai greeted him simply.

Qin Zhijing took a small step back, leaving the space for him. “You go ahead.”

Qin Huai semi-crouched in front of the tombstone, placing the bouquet of flowers properly. “Mom, I’ve come to see you.”

Pine trees surrounded the cemetery. The mist half-concealed everything, blurring one’s vision. Qin Huai semi-crouched in front of the tombstone, looking at the vigorous inscription, his voice particularly cold amidst the splattering sound of water. “I met Aunt Zhou Yue, your good friend from work. I heard her talk a lot about your past. I know you also worked on inhibitor research, and I know you were involved in the research for the first batch of inhibitors.”

“Your mother was indeed very capable,” a serious voice came from behind. Qin Huai’s back stiffened for a moment, then he recovered. “Dad, do you miss Mom?”

The only answer was the sound of the rain.

“But I do,” Qin Huai blinked, concealing the dampness in his eyes. “In the limited impressions I had of Mom, I hated her. Why did other children have mothers, and why didn’t I? Why couldn’t Mom live for me? If she were alive, I wouldn’t have been locked in a dark storage room by the nanny, nor would I have been verbally and physically abused by my grandmother and thrown out of the house. And my father wouldn’t have been absent for over twenty years of my growth.”

“Dad, can you tell me why Mom chose to commit suicide?”

That sealed memory was covered in dust in Qin Huai’s mind. Whenever he mentioned his mother’s suicide in front of his grandmother, his grandmother would instantly become ugly-faced, until he swore never to bring it up again, at which point his grandmother would stop.

He was stubborn in believing that his mother loved him, which was why he was listening to Qin Zhijing talk about his mother with an open heart this time. He couldn’t believe why the Omega, who was once so passionate about life, would choose to commit suicide.

“Because of you.”

Qin Zhijing’s cold voice hit the stone slab, deafening Qin Huai.

The leg he was semi-crouching on went weak, and he collapsed onto the ground, half of his body already drenched by the rain. “What do you mean, because of me?”

“It was Gu Qing’s first time being a mother. She couldn’t cope with the crying of the child, coupled with the effects of childbirth on her body. She couldn’t accept herself like that, so she suffered from severe postpartum depression.”

“That’s why she committed suicide when you were very young.”

“Qin Huai, stop asking Zhou Yue about your mother. She didn’t like you.”

When Qin Huai emerged from the cemetery, his body was already soaking wet. He hailed a taxi, only coming back to his senses when the driver asked him where he was going.

Where to go?

Where could he go?

Qin Zhijing’s house was always cold, holding his most painful memories. When he was little, he was locked in the storage room by the nanny, surrounded by darkness, with only one doll for company.

His maternal grandparents had passed away, although the house was left to him. But that place held the memory of him being abandoned outside the residential area, unable to go home like a stray dog.

Only school. That place was cold but felt solid.

After giving the school name, Qin Huai stared at the window blurred by the mist, sitting quietly.

Rain hammered on the taxi’s shell, the sound sharp and grating. Listening to the rain, he leaned his head against the cold window and closed his eyes.

Why wasn’t it me who died back then?