Extra: The Liar 07 (Wolf & Rabbit) – This child isn’t yours
【ABO Development Bank】At 21:12 on June 19th, repayment of ¥21,000.00 was deposited into your account 9998 by Gao Tu. Current balance: ¥19,825,578.57.
The moment Shen Wenlang received the text about Gao Tu’s repayment, a wave of weakness washed over him.
From the very first moment he helped Gao Tu, all the way until now, he had never expected him to repay anything.
When they first reunited, on top of his HS job, Gao Tu had a weekend part-time job elsewhere.
Every weekend he’d take forever to reply to Shen Wenlang’s messages.
Unable to find a topic yet always wanting to say something, Shen Wenlang gradually developed the habit of “collecting debts” from him every weekend just to have an excuse to talk.
It wasn’t until the next night—after seeing where Gao Tu worked—that he realized the part-time job was at a bar, and it was then that Gao Tu proactively proposed rewriting an IOU.
Shen Wenlang remembered very clearly: it was a Saturday.
He was walking back from dinner with a few business contacts near a bar when road closures forced his driver to pick him up at the other end of the alley.
So he walked through the alley and saw Gao Tu standing by the back door of a bar, smoking.
It was the first time Shen Wenlang realized—Gao Tu smoked.
Under the dim yellow streetlight, like flecks of gold sprinkled across his Beta’s face, his proportions stood out even at a distance: broad shoulders, narrow waist, a deep black apron tied at his hips.
Head slightly bowed, long fingers holding a white cigarette, full lips gently on the filter, he inhaled, then exhaled a thin, greyish, cold and lonely ring of smoke.
He was right there—just a few steps away at the end of the alley.
Yet at that moment, watching him smoke alone with his head down, Shen Wenlang felt he was incredibly, incredibly far away.
That area, crowded with bars, was notorious for its poor security.
The next morning, after a sleepless night, Shen Wenlang had HR reiterate the “No Moonlighting” company policy.
Later, the bodyguard he’d sent to keep an eye on the bar informed him that Gao Tu had resigned.
After that, even on weekends, Gao Tu never left his messages unanswered again.
Shen Wenlang thought that as long as he kept finding reasons to raise Gao Tu’s salary, his face would never again carry that tired, confused, helpless expression under the streetlamp that night.
He believed that if he paid him just the right amount—not too much (so Gao Tu wouldn’t get spoiled) and not too little (so he wouldn’t worry about living expenses or his sister’s medical bills)—then Gao Tu would never again stand in that place, under those predatory eyes of drunken Alphas and Betas.
He thought Gao Tu would never stray so far from him, would stay at his side forever.
Out of gratitude, and for the money.
But ever since the day Gao Tu finished handing over his work and left HS without a backward glance, Shen Wenlang knew he’d been wrong.
After Gao Tu formally resigned, Shen Wenlang kept finding excuses to message him—even though he no longer knew where that Beta would go next.
At first, Gao Tu still replied often.
But as Shen Wenlang’s mood worsened and his attitude grew more aggressive, Gao Tu’s responses became fewer and farther between.
Now, it had already been three days since his last reply.
And since then, the chat was nothing but Shen Wenlang talking to himself.
June 16th 11:22
HS Shen Wenlang: “Where did you put my black cufflinks?”
June 16th 11:37
TuTuTu: “Second drawer down, left side of the lounge cabinet in the office.”
June 16th 11:38
HS Shen Wenlang: “Oh. Thanks.”
June 16th 11:41
TuTuTu: “You’re welcome.”
June 16th 22:43
HS Shen Wenlang: “Gao Tu, when are you planning to marry that Omega who goes into heat all the time?”
June 16th 22:55
TuTuTu: “Sorry, that’s private.”
June 16th 22:55
HS Shen Wenlang: “What privacy? I just asked when. Why so sensitive? What does your Omega look like? Any photos? Send me one.”
June 16th 22:57
TuTuTu: “Sorry, no.”
June 16th 22:55
HS Shen Wenlang: “Come on. Nobody doesn’t take pictures! When did you get so stingy?”
June 17th 01:12
HS Shen Wenlang: “Hey, you there?”
June 17th 01:13
HS Shen Wenlang: “Gao Tu, don’t play dead!”
June 17th 01:14
HS Shen Wenlang: “Why are you protecting some Omega this much? [knife emoji]”
June 17th 01:15
HS Shen Wenlang: “?????????????”
June 17th 01:39
HS Shen Wenlang: “Hey. Say something! You asleep?”
June 17th 01:40
HS Shen Wenlang: “Then reply first thing tomorrow.”
June 17th 01:41
HS Shen Wenlang: “Goodnight.”
Message retracted (the goodnight).
Scrolling further, the messages got even more outrageous.
Even Shen Wenlang himself felt like an emotionally unstable idiot.
But just thinking about how Gao Tu quit for an Omega, he lost control.
Angry, irritable, his chest heavy like a boulder, every unanswered message felt like suffocating.
June 19th 09:17
HS Shen Wenlang: “?????????????”
June 19th 09:19
HS Shen Wenlang: “Gao Tu, answer me!”
June 19th 09:37
HS Shen Wenlang: “If you don’t reply now, then don’t ever bother replying again!”
Message retracted.
June 19th 09:39
HS Shen Wenlang: “Don’t contact me anymore then! Who cares!”
Message retracted.
June 19th 21:09
HS Shen Wenlang: “Gao Tu, what about the money you owe me? Didn’t you say you’d pay it back ASAP? Why hasn’t it come?”
June 19th 21:10
HS Shen Wenlang: “You’re not going back on your word, are you?”
Two minutes later, his phone finally chimed.
Perking up instantly, he snatched it up — but it still wasn’t a reply from Gao Tu.
Instead, it was a deposit notification.
He’d even paid next month’s amount ahead of time.
The anger inside Shen Wenlang fizzled out like a damp firecracker — a brief sputter before it went cold.
What remained was an itchy, empty ache in his chest.
“…Guess I’ll go see Sheng Shaoyou.”
Muttering to himself after sitting there with no reply, he got up, ordered some trendy fish soup through a scalper and went to Hechi hospital.
But after just a few minutes at Sheng Shaoyou’s bedside, he excused himself — the soup apparently had too many additives, and Sheng Shaoyou threw up after just a few sips.
Hua Yong’s gaze turned cold instantly.
Shen Wenlang hastily left before the petty Enigma could hold a grudge.
Having fulfilled his duty of visiting the patient, he should have gone home — yet his feet carried him to Gao Qing’s floor.
Lingering outside the ward, he hesitated. At this hour, Gao Qing was surely asleep.
But if he didn’t check on her, how could he see Gao Tu?
Just as he stood there indecisively, he saw Gao Tu pale-faced, rushing out of the ward and into the restroom.
Shen Wenlang didn’t follow immediately, instead waiting outside.
For the first time in his life, he was at a loss — unable to figure out what he even wanted to say if he saw him.
So he just stood there like a scolded schoolboy, waiting.
But no matter how long he waited, Gao Tu didn’t come out — only Hua Yong’s call came, gleefully announcing Sheng Shaoyou’s pregnancy and banning Shen Wenlang from visiting again anytime soon.
“…Pregnant?” Shen Wenlang’s face twisted in disbelief.
Hua Yong, smug, said: “Oh, by the way, Gao Tu’s sister is being discharged the day after tomorrow. If you’re planning to confess, you’d better hurry.”
Confess? To Gao Tu? No way!
Like a wolf whose tail had been stepped on, Shen Wenlang growled: “Mind your own business, you lying Omega fraud!”
Slamming the call shut, he paced the hallway, restless.
Finally, unable to bear it anymore, he pushed the restroom door open.
It was empty except for Gao Tu.
The sound of suppressed retching led him to the last stall.
Inside, Gao Tu, drenched in cold sweat, stared in despair at a pregnancy test strip showing two lines, his lips as pale as the bathroom tiles.
Both blood and urine tests confirmed it: he was pregnant.
Clutching his stomach, he gagged again and again, unable to stop.
An unmarked Omega getting pregnant was already rare — and with his hormonal disorder, doctors had warned him it was nearly impossible.
Yet here he was, cursed by sheer bad luck.
Even worse, he’d once asked timidly: “If your Omega got pregnant, what would you do?”
And Shen Wenlang had replied without hesitation: “Of course get rid of it. What else?”
That answer had shattered something inside him.
And in every nightmare since, it was the same:
Shen Wenlang discovering the truth, calling him a dirty Omega and a liar.
And each time, he’d cry, pleading: “This child isn’t yours…”
And Shen Wenlang, as cold and unyielding as ever, would reply:
“No. It is mine. Get rid of it. I hate liars — and I hate filthy, scheming Omegas even more.”
Get rid of it. Get rid of it. Get rid of it…
In his nightmares, Shen Wenlang always said the same thing.
Every day at work became a kind of torture — until three days ago, he finally secured his resignation.
That afternoon, standing across the street, he looked up at the shining windows of HS’s top floor — his only star in a dark sky.
Tears blurred his vision.
It’s over, he thought. You can’t be too greedy — or you’ll be punished.
Clutching his box of belongings, he thought, calm at last:
It’s all over.
Then —
“Gao Tu, are you in there?”
The familiar voice came through the door with an urgent knock.
“Are you okay? Open the door!”
Stiff as stone, Gao Tu raised his sweat-soaked face, his throat tightening.
“…I’m fine,” he said hoarsely. “D-don’t come in.”