59: Because He’s Carrying My Child
Sheng Shaoyou suddenly started vomiting after 10 PM that night.
The restaurant Sheng Shaoqing had chosen was atrocious — he’d barely eaten anything at dinner and soon after waking began feeling hungry.
Hua Yong forced Shen Wenlang to bring dinner to Sheng Shaoyou’s bedside, making him apologize for his earlier terrible attitude.
Of course, Shen Wenlang was utterly unwilling.
Under normal circumstances, even under Hua Yong’s tyrannical pressure, he would never have softened toward Sheng Shaoyou.
But Hua Yong had many tricks up his sleeve — coercion, bribery, persuasion — he knew exactly where to press.
Lightly, he said to Shen:
“How about this: just bring dinner to Mr. Sheng and apologize, and I’ll give you the photo of that Omega from the banquet the other day.”
Seeing Shen hesitate, Hua Yong smiled faintly and asked:
“You really liked his scent, didn’t you?”
“Like? Who liked him?!”
“Oh? Isn’t that so?” Hua Yong didn’t believe it for a second, mercilessly exposing him:
“If you didn’t like him, why’d you hold him all night? Don’t you usually gag at Omega scents? Wenlang, unless I’m mistaken, that Omega who climbed into your bed is probably your only chance at not dying alone.”
Hua Yong’s negotiating skills weren’t great — but his leverage was huge.
Shen desperately wanted to know who that damn Omega was.
He had a vague, uneasy hunch about it — not good, but not terrible either.
That night had been full of strange happenings, and what struck Shen most was why Gao Tu, who always stuck close to him, had suddenly disappeared.
Could it be… that Gao Tu and the heat-crazed Omega had conspired against him? Is that why he suddenly quit?
No — that didn’t make sense.
If Gao really had plotted with that Omega, he wouldn’t have quit. He would’ve used it as leverage to extort him.
That dull, awkward idiot — quitting his job over a pregnant Omega? Didn’t even know how to blackmail properly!
Thinking of this made Shen furious all over again.
He hadn’t seen Gao for three full days.
The secretarial and HR staff were useless, unable even to invent a decent excuse for delay.
They’d left Shen stewing, forced to watch helplessly as Gao moved to a distant office to finish his handover and then left the company for good three days ago.
The head of the secretarial team used to joke: “Secretary Gao is the CEO’s fire extinguisher.”
As long as he was around, no matter how angry Shen got, he only ever directed it at Gao.
Shen’s personality was odd — to outsiders he wasn’t actually that hard to deal with.
His meanness, sarcasm, and two-faced nature were usually reserved for Gao alone.
“Mr. Shen loves to act spoiled around Gao,” the other secretaries had all tried to persuade Gao to stay when they heard he was resigning.
“Don’t go, Secretary Gao. Mr. Shen values you so much — I wouldn’t have the heart to leave.”
“That’s right! If you leave, we’ll never get to see Mr. Shen act spoiled again!”
“Spoiled?” Gao had only smiled helplessly.
Recently, his appetite had been poor, his energy low. He’d grown visibly thinner, his cheeks sunken.
“Don’t you think Mr. Shen always acts spoiled toward you?” one Beta secretary teased, even imitating Shen’s voice:
“Gao Tu, I want white tea — brewed, not steeped. You brew it yourself.”
Gao had sighed:
“That’s not acting spoiled. That’s just my job.”
*”Job?!” the Beta secretary disagreed. “He clearly acts spoiled! And what about that time he made you write his memoir?”
“Memoir?”
“That silly notebook thing we all did in school — exchanging personal details.”
“Oh, that was a yearbook,” Gao smiled faintly.
“We went to the same school, same year, different classes. On graduation day, something happened at home, so I didn’t attend the ceremony or sign any yearbooks. That day, Mr. Shen just got nostalgic and asked me to fill one out.”
*”You two were classmates?!”
“I bet Mr. Shen was really popular at school!”
“Mm.”
Shen Wenlang had always been dazzling — like a diamond sparkling in a coal mine.
Since their student days, Gao had been quietly helping him deal with all the Omega-scented love letters he hated.
No one knew better than Gao how much Shen detested Omegas.
What Gao hadn’t known was that, on graduation day, Shen had lingered outside his classroom door long after everyone else had left, before stomping off alone in frustration.
Shen had wealth, looks, presence. Despite being picky and sharp-tongued, people still swarmed to him.
But Gao had neither looks nor brains — just a sick sister and a useless, gambling father.
He often thought: Good thing I’m so hopeless.
If he’d been even a little better-looking, a little smarter, or born into a better family, he might’ve dreamed foolishly that Shen would ever treat him as an equal.
Thankfully, he had none of that.
For the Alpha he’d secretly loved all those years, he never expected anything in return.
On the day he moved out of Shen’s office, Gao did something stupid — he secretly opened Shen’s drawer and tore out the page of the yearbook he’d filled in.
He’d already decided to leave, and that page would be his only keepsake of ten years of silent love.
Shen was his classmate, his boss — the Alpha he liked but never dared confess to.
He respected him, was grateful to him, loved him.
So even though it was painful and full of regrets, Gao left without bitterness.
Shen had helped him finish school, and also filled his dull life with bright, sharp pain.
He was ordinary — even his pain was ordinary.
Loving someone made him hesitant, conflicted, even petty.
His love had started quietly and ended just as quietly — as it should.
Shen had given him unrequited love and terrible sex.
But what truly made Gao decide to leave was Shen’s callousness toward an unexpected little life — discarding it like trash.
Gao could accept his own love being unacknowledged — but not a child, yet unborn, bearing the weight of its father’s hatred.
Painful or not, he had no choice but to leave — for the sake of that innocent life.
“Fish soup?” Sheng Shaoyou, half-reclining on his bed, watched Shen’s new secretary lay out dinner and sneered:
“Mr. Shen really is like a stray cat, sneaking fish into other people’s rooms in the middle of the night.”
Shen folded his arms, uninterested in bickering, and scoffed:
“Hua Yong said you liked fish soup. Who’s the stray cat here, huh?”
The new secretary awkwardly tried to smooth things over:
“This fish soup is very popular lately — Mr. Shen had someone wait in line two hours for it.”
Sheng took a spoon and casually asked:
“Haven’t seen you before — where’s Secretary Gao?”
“He resigned.” The secretary explained politely.
“I just started, so it’s normal you haven’t seen me yet.”
“Oh? Resigned? Good for him,” Sheng smiled coldly.
“Better to see the light than stay in the darkness. Finally figured it out, huh? Left the suffering behind.”
“Sheng Shaoyou, if you don’t know how to talk, then don’t,” Shen snapped, kicking the bed frame.
“You’re not mute, I know.”
The creamy, fragrant soup was indeed delicious — Sheng drank a few more spoonfuls before Shen mocked:
“Little kitty, does it taste good?”
Sheng set down his spoon, about to snap back — but his stomach churned suddenly, and the soup surged back up his throat.
The sudden dry heaving startled Shen — he remembered that not long ago, Gao had also been vomiting constantly at the office, diagnosed with acute gastritis.
An hour later, at the hospital.
The wards were quiet as usual at this hour.
In the empty corridor, Shen gripped his phone, his expression complicated:
“Pregnant?”
“Mm.” Hua Yong’s calm voice came over the line.
“I meant to tell you in person, but Chang Yu said you’d gone downstairs.”
He asked pointedly:
“Wenlang, what are you doing downstairs? Visiting Gao’s sister?”
“Visiting other sick employees,” Shen shot back dryly. “You got a problem with that?”
“No.” Hua Yong said gently.
“Just don’t show up around Mr. Sheng for now — don’t upset him again.”
“Don’t worry,” Shen sneered.
“If Chang Yu hadn’t made it sound like you were dying, I wouldn’t have even come today — much less deliver some damn dinner.”
“Mm.” Hua Yong paused, then added with a note of pity:
“You really seem unpopular lately. Gao resigned, and just now, Mr. Sheng saw you and vomited.”
“…”
“Was that because of me?”
The mention of Gao hit Shen’s sore spot — he sneered:
“He puked because he’s carrying your brat, isn’t he?”
“You still haven’t congratulated me,” Hua Yong replied, clearly in a good mood.
“Since you helped me win over Mr. Sheng, let me teach you how to win back Gao’s heart.”
“Win him back?” Shen’s voice rose.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Why do you think?” Hua Yong shot back.
“If you don’t care, why are you hanging around the hospital? Isn’t it because his sister’s here too? Well, she’s being discharged the day after tomorrow — if you’re going to confess, better hurry.”
Confess? To Gao?
No way.
Shen felt like a wolf with its tail stepped on, snapping:
“Mind your own business, you lying lunatic pretending to be an Omega!”
He hung up furiously and began pacing the corridor.
But deep down, he couldn’t explain why he refused to leave.
He hadn’t seen Gao for three whole days.
In all these years, except for one unexplained absence, that quiet Beta had never been away from his side this long.
The thought that this absence might become permanent filled him with a strange emptiness and unease — enough to make him invent an excuse to visit Hua Yong just so he could sneak glimpses of Gao from afar.
At 1:27 AM, Hua Yong’s phone rang again.
Sheng was fast asleep, the fatigue of early pregnancy making him drowsy.
Even the flashing, buzzing phone on the nightstand didn’t wake him.
After three ignored calls, Hua Yong finally picked up and stepped into the hall.
“What?” His voice was low and full of menace from being roused at this hour.
“You said you’d help me win back Gao. How?”
Hua Yong was silent for a moment, then asked:
“Wenlang, are you mentally sound?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That your attitude toward asking for help sucks.”
“He threw up again today,” Shen suddenly muttered.
“Because he’s carrying my child,” Hua Yong replied with a smile, now in a better mood.
“Morning sickness — Mr. Sheng’s having a hard time. So don’t call so late again — you’ll wake him—”
“I’m not talking about Sheng Shaoyou,” Shen cut him off impatiently.
“Why would I care if he pukes?”
“Then who?”
“Gao Tu.” Even through the phone, Hua Yong could feel Shen’s frustration.
“He’s been puking for a month. Ever since he submitted his resignation! Damn it, he’s not quitting because he’s dying, is he?”
“Then you should ask him.” Hua Yong glanced at the time.
“If you have questions, ask the person directly — that’s something you should’ve learned in kindergarten. Wenlang, you should ask him why he can’t stay, not call me at 1:33 AM to play guessing games.”
“How am I supposed to ask?”
“Pester him.” Hua Yong said matter-of-factly.
“Ask him everything you just asked me. What’s wrong, is he sick, what does he think of you, does he like you.”
Shen ran a hand through his hair in frustration.
“I already asked during the day! He said nothing was wrong, nothing he needed my help with. So what am I supposed to do — throw myself at him?”
He cursed under his breath, then quietly asked:
“Hua Yong… how do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“How can you be so shameless?”
“……”