Chapter 14 Ji Qingyu was thinking...

As Ji Qingyu was thinking, the lights in the performance hall came on, and the glaring light made her squint uncomfortably.

The person who came in was Lin Feng, holding a broom. "I thought a thief had broken in. What are you doing here all by yourself?"

Ji Qingyu clenched her fists, stood up, and whispered, "I'm sorry, I'll leave right away."

Lin Feng walked over and frowned at him. Ji Qingyu was wrapped in the costume, like a piece of paper about to fall over. His hair hung obediently on his shoulders, and there was redness under his eyes.

"Kid, would you like to come over for a cup of tea?" Lin Feng scratched his head. "Speaking of which, I also have a child, about your age. If you need anything, just tell me. I treat you like my own child."

Ji Qingyu lowered her head, her eyes unfocused, and for some reason, she confided her worries to Lin Feng, "Uncle, I feel like I'm not good enough. I dropped out of high school, I've accomplished nothing, my voice is hoarse, my health is poor, and my reputation is terrible..."

"At least you don't smoke, you don't drink excessively, you have beautiful features and sound values, and you're very talented." Lin Feng lit a cigarette, and wisps of smoke floated in the air. "If you meet the wrong person, just run away. It's not a big deal."

“You can’t escape,” Ji Qingyu said lightly. “Where can you run to?”

Lin Feng looked at him silently, then handed Ji Qingyu a cigarette. Ji Qingyu lit it, took a puff, and coughed violently from the choking. Lin Feng laughed heartily.

Ji Qingyu looked up at Lin Feng. Lin Feng skillfully twirled the cigarette case in his hand, holding it between his two hands as he smoked, the snow-white smoke floating and swirling in the air.

He was somewhat unkempt, with a beard covering the lower half of his face, but his eyes were extremely beautiful—eyes that had seen much of life.

"Come on, child. As long as you're alive, everything will be alright." Lin Feng nudged Ji Qingyu's back.

It was late at night when Ji Qingyu got home. The whole house was dark. He assumed Fu Han was asleep, so he tried to keep his voice down.

As she passed the sofa, she noticed a dark figure sitting silently there. She didn't know how long he had been sitting there, but the ashtray in front of him was stuffed with more than twenty cigarettes. The nicotine was pungent and acrid. Ji Qingyu was startled and before she could speak, she heard Fu Han's deep, hoarse voice, "Ji Qingyu."

Fu Han sat there, not looking at him, but his aura was terrifying. He had unbuttoned the last button, and although his tone was calm, Ji Qingyu could tell at a glance that he was angry.

He stood frozen in place, as if he had been taken to a standstill.

He was still wearing that costume, a moon-white cheongsam that accentuated his beautiful figure, making him look like a young master from a wealthy family.

Fu Han gestured with his chin towards the area in front of him, "Come here."

Ji Qingyu didn't dare to utter a sound and silently stood over. He wanted to take a shower, but the coffee stains on his hair were sticky and stuck to his head, and Fu Han didn't give him the chance.

He was pulled close, and Fu Han pressed against his lower abdomen, seemingly listening to something. Then, in a voice devoid of emotion, he said, "It sounds like a heartbeat."

Ji Qingyu found it absurd, cold sweat broke out on her brow, and she pushed him away: "How could this be?"

"Who knows?" Fu Han scoffed. "If you get pregnant with our child, I'll make you abort it."

Fu Han seemed to have more vicious things to say, but in the end, she gave up because she didn't know where to start, and only said, "How can someone like you be a mother?"

Fu Han has been saying these things for a long time, and Ji Qingyu usually doesn't take it to heart or even think about it. But today is different.

He was already exhausted, tormented by Ji Ran, and still worried about Lin Ying, the stage play, the online public opinion, and the inability to write songs anymore. There were so many things going on, and now Fu Han was going to add insult to injury.

“A person like you would do anything to climb the social ladder. Even if you had a child, you wouldn’t treat him well,” Fu Han said wearily. “If a child has a mother like you, it will definitely be his misfortune.”

Ji Qingyu was held in his arms. He opened his mouth, and the bright moon outside the window cast a silvery-gray light into the window, like a shimmering sea. He was a land creature trapped in the sea, constantly experiencing suffocation and powerlessness.

Does Fu Han have to be like this? Does everyone have to be like this? Who can care about his feelings? He once had a child, but Fu Han said he didn't deserve it.

Ji Qingyu felt as if a wet, soft cotton ball had been stuffed into his throat, neither going up nor down. He couldn't help but recall Lin Feng's words: Would living really be better?

They still treated Ji Qingyu with the same disdain, almost cruelly and coldly dragging her back into that cage.

He didn't care how long Fu Han had been sitting there or why he looked so upset. He figured it was just some trouble that had happened, and he was just looking for a fight. Fu Han was like a block of iron, seemingly impervious to pain, and would never show the slightest vulnerability no matter what.

He probably doesn't have a heart, but Ji Qingyu does.

He bit his tongue, tasting a bit of blood. The pain gave him some courage, and he pushed Fu Han away, heading towards the guest room.

Fu Han wanted to have a child, and there were plenty of people waiting for him outside; there was no need to warn himself here. Ji Qingyu thought, having a child isn't something he can do on his own.

He went inside, slammed the door shut, and tried to pull himself out of his pain.

He was usually very good at enduring pain, but this time he was caught off guard by Fu Han's sudden attack. Fu Han was always unpredictable; when he was in a good mood, he could be affectionate with him, but when he was in a bad mood, he would torture him with those venomous words.

Ji Qingyu tried to ignore everything in his mind, using his usual method to stop thinking. He gradually fell asleep, and after an unknown amount of time, Aunt Wang came up and knocked on the door.

"Madam, how did you get coffee on your clothes? Did you accidentally get it on your clothes at the coffee shop?" Ji Qingyu was still half asleep when she remembered that he had left the paper bag containing her clothes downstairs.

“Yes,” Ji Qingyu said, barely able to move, but managing to muster her strength. “Just leave it there, I’ll wash it tomorrow.”

"I washed it while I was at it," said Aunt Wang. "I left you a midnight snack, but neither of you ate it. It's getting cold now. Don't stay cooped up inside, come and eat."

"Thank you, Sister Wang, but I won't eat anymore." Ji Qingyu quickly fell asleep again. He didn't want to think about what Fu Han was thinking anymore, and he didn't want to serve him anymore.

Half-asleep, he heard a loud slamming of the door from the entrance hall, even louder than when he slammed it. Then, car headlights flashed past the window; this time, they were really gone.

Fu Han has probably moved back to his office or some other lover's house; Ji Qingyu neither cares nor wants to care.

He simply buried himself deep under the covers, letting the air gradually thin out. It was dark and hot under the covers, but he felt safe in this cramped space.

The next morning, Ji Qingyu was going to his final rehearsal. He washed his face with cold water and was still half asleep when he was about to head to the performance hall. Aunt Wang stopped him, saying, "Madam, let the driver take you there."

There was no precedent for this before, and Ji Qingyu was a little puzzled. "I don't have anything else to do, I can just take the bus there."

“It was Mr. Fu who said it,” Wang sighed, “You’d better have someone accompany you when you go out in the future.”

Ji Qingyu remained silent for a while, then calmly accepted the situation. After the car drove away upon reaching their destination, Lin Feng suddenly jumped out.

"Young friend, why do you look even more listless than yesterday?" Lin Feng looked Ji Qingyu up and down, carefully examining his face. "I see you have some pent-up emotions inside, which is not good for your health."

As he spoke, he took out a cigarette from his pocket and shoved it in front of Ji Qingyu, saying, "It's a menthol cigarette, not very strong."

"I don't smoke." Ji Qingyu smiled, a little helplessly. "Uncle, you should smoke less too. Nicotine is bad for your health."

"It's nothing," Lin Feng said, taking it all in stride. "I'll just have a couple of sips of ice wine to calm myself down."

Ji Qingyu clasped her hands in a fist salute to Lin Feng, indicating that he conceded defeat. After the two set up the backdrop for the stage play, Ji Qingyu suddenly asked, "Uncle Lin, would you like to go on stage and play a role?"

"Me?" Lin Feng was stunned. "Grimm's Fairy Tales are fine for kids to act out, what would I look like going up there?"

"You'll be fine going up there," Ji Qingyu thought. "You're more like a baby than a baby."

He handed the notebook to the other person, saying, "This is a character I wrote specifically for you. There's a solo dance scene, but it won't affect the plot of Nannan and the others at other times. Look, I even wrote a song for you."

Lin Feng clutched the piece of paper, examining it carefully several times. He seemed to have made a difficult decision, confirming again and again that only a few dozen tickets had been sold for the stage.

Finally, he made this difficult decision and instructed Ji Qingyu, "Come on, play this piece for me, and I'll tune it."

Ji Qingyu sat there and pressed the first key. It was a cheerful song. Lin Feng just jumped around casually. The cigarette in his hand was still burning. Ji Qingyu smelled a burning minty scent.

Lin Feng had a strong attraction on stage, making it hard to look away. After the performance, Ji Qingyu asked in confusion, "Uncle Lin, why do you look so familiar?"

“Hi,” Lin Feng waved his hand, “I have a familiar face, and many people think I look familiar.”

Remembering something, Lin Feng asked again, "Did you have a fight with your partner?"

"My relationship with him has never been very good, it's fine." Ji Qingyu didn't care. Since Nannan and the others had also arrived, she brought them all up and went through the whole process.

Lighting, set design, stage effects—everything must be flawless.

Lin Feng moved closer to Ji Qingyu and asked, "So your husband won't skip his performance, will he?"

“Ah…” Ji Qingyu thought for a moment. The performance was not long away, at most a week. Given the current situation, Fu Han, who was so arrogant, would never be the first to back down.

“He’s not coming,” Ji Qingyu said. “Uncle Lin, don’t just stand there. Stand next to Nannan. Oh, and you still have a few lines to say.”

The rehearsal that day lasted until the afternoon and ended very quickly, almost unbelievably smoothly. When Ji Qingyu got home, she saw Fu Han's car just leaving, and Aunt Wang was seeing him off at the door.

Ji Qingyu walked over, turned back to look at the car that was gradually shrinking into a dot, and asked, "Didn't he say he wouldn't be coming back for a while?"

"Ah, it's a long story," Wang sighed. "The old master's wife is about to leave. Every year around this time, Mr. Fu would take her things away in advance, and then turn off his phone for the next few days so that no one could contact him."

"The first time he did it, it was terrifying," said Mrs. Wang. "The whole family searched for him for three days and three nights, thinking he had been kidnapped. But on the third night, he came back as if nothing had happened. The master and he had a huge fight, oh my, it was a really fierce argument, and their relationship became even more strained afterward..."

Ji Qingyu could hardly imagine where Fu Han was going with those things; perhaps he was looking for a place to lick his wounds alone.

The performance was in a few days. Ji Qingyu took out his phone and opened Fu Han's chat window. The profile picture was still black as always. He wondered whether he should remind Fu Han again. He hesitated for a long time, typed a line in the chat box, and hovered his finger over the send button, unable to press it.

A note from the author:

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