Extra: The Liar 08 — Anyone who didn’t know would think you’re the one who’s pregnant
The knocking on the door suddenly stopped.
But the cold-edged Alpha voice outside did not.
“Gao Tu, are you okay?”
Fear gripped his throat like a knife. He no longer had the strength to keep vomiting, but the nausea and dizziness showed no sign of stopping.
Leaning against the door for a long time, Gao Tu finally managed to stand.
Disheveled, he wiped his sweat and hesitated a moment before pushing the door open.
As expected, outside stood Shen Wenlang—his handsome face clouded with a storm.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Gao Tu couldn’t say a word. His vision went black and white in turns.
He couldn’t answer, couldn’t even muster the strength to lie. So he simply clammed up like an uncrackable shell, lips pale and tightly pressed, and staggered past him.
The mirror showed a wan, sickly face—only the rims of his eyes and the tip of his nose faintly red, lips tinged blue.
From vomiting, his glasses were off. The eyes usually hidden behind the lenses now sat in hollowed, bruised sockets, the corners slightly drooped, pupils wet and shimmering—miserable.
He braced himself on the sink for ten seconds, waited out a dizzy spell, then lowered his head to pump soap and wash his hands. After rinsing thoroughly, he cupped water to rinse his mouth and splash his face.
“Why don’t you say something?” Shen Wenlang followed him in, frowning deeper.
“I’m fine.”
Drying his glasses and putting them back on, Gao Tu finally turned to face him.
“Could you please leave? I want to wash my face.”
He looked even more haggard. Probably from the vomiting—his eyes and nose flushed, pitiful.
His dishevelment, his weakness, his evasion—all of it left Shen Wenlang unsettled.
He’d noticed long ago that something was off with him.
This Beta was probably sick—likely gastroenteritis.
The signs were already there before he quit: distracted, zoning out, hiding in the restroom to vomit.
That Omega carrying his child clearly didn’t know how to take care of him; their Beta was this sick and still wasn’t taken to a hospital.
But obviously, Shen Wenlang—who watched his every move—was far better than that worthless Omega.
As his boss and former classmate, he didn’t mind personally taking him to the hospital.
But since submitting his resignation and moving to an outside office, Gao Tu avoided him like the plague. Even saying a word in private was hard, let alone escorting him to a doctor after work.
All these years, Gao Tu had handled his schedule and even his personal routines. This stubborn Beta, once determined to leave, avoided him better than any celebrity dodging paparazzi.
Several times, Shen Wenlang waited outside the company pretending to “bump into” him—but failed every time.
Repeated failure drove the rarely-thwarted S-class Alpha into a rage.
Fine. Let him vomit. Let him refuse to see a doctor and avoid him. If he wanted to puke himself to death, so be it.
…Even as he thought that, he still “happened” to show up at the restroom, “accidentally” running into him.
He also “occasionally” passed through the secretarial department, calling out the team lead with a stern face just to glimpse Gao Tu hunched over his desk through the glass.
Under his frequent “personal supervision,” the secretarial team became so efficient it was terrifying.
Now, standing outside the restroom at Hechi, having just been politely asked to leave, Shen Wenlang hesitated—should he barge back in?
Maybe this time he should just drag him to the ER and demand what the hell was wrong.
Arms crossed, his mind raced.
Then a ridiculous thought struck him:
Sheng Shaoyou had thrown up today too—and his symptoms looked eerily similar.
Shen Wenlang froze. Could Gao Tu also…?
But no—that was absurd.
Gao Tu was an ordinary Beta, not someone who’d lucked out and run into one-in-a-billion Enigma genetics and gotten pregnant.
Besides, he didn’t want Gao Tu carrying anyone’s baby—least of all his.
So it must be gastroenteritis.
Then his mind drifted back to the supposed “Omega” he’d left Gao Tu for.
That filthy Omega who couldn’t even take care of a partner but dared get pregnant. What if both the kid and Gao Tu ended up dead under his care?
Damn it. If anyone should die, let it be that Omega alone. Why drag his Gao Tu down too?
…His Gao Tu?
Shen Wenlang raked his hair in frustration, reflecting on what Hua Yong had said earlier: What if you confessed? Would he accept?
Probably not.
That man was stubborn to the core. How could he abandon a pregnant Omega to turn around and be with him?
Ah—how annoying.
If only all the world’s Omegas could just disappear. Then he could rightfully claim this infuriating, fragile, always-making-him-breathless Beta for himself.
The more he thought about it, the more restless he felt. He exhaled sharply and stepped toward the restroom again.
Why had it gone quiet? Don’t tell him he fainted?
Electrolyte imbalance from vomiting could cause unconsciousness.
At least they’d been classmates and colleagues; he couldn’t just stand by.
He turned the corner—and ran into him.
Gao Tu, pale as death, clearly not unconscious but looking like he wished he were.
“Shen—Shen General Manager… what are you doing here?”
He stammered as if he’d seen some three-headed, nine-mouthed, forty-seven-armed monster rather than his old boss and classmate.
What, just because he hadn’t answered his WeChat, he had to look this terrified?
Shen Wenlang’s frown deepened:
“What? You see me and get scared like that? What’d you do, steal company secrets when you left?”
Gao Tu froze, going even paler, stammering:
“I—I didn’t—”
“Enough,” Shen Wenlang cut him off, a twinge of guilt in his chest. “I know you didn’t. You wouldn’t dare.”
But just a few days apart, and he already looked gaunt as a ghost.
This Beta was infuriating—he evoked an uncharacteristic tenderness from Shen Wenlang, yet also an equally strange desire to crush him when he defied him.
Like the day he resigned.
It had taken everything in him not to grab his neck—to feel his pulse throb under his grip.
Let him go, he told himself again and again. He’s just a subordinate. Just a classmate. Let him go.
But now, staring at his tightly pressed lips, Shen Wenlang asked anyway:
“Why?”
Gao Tu bit his lip, barely able to speak.
“I put it all in my resignation letter. Please, for the sake of our years working together, approve it quickly.”
“Why?” Shen Wenlang repeated.
Too nervous to notice the subtle quiver in Shen Wenlang’s voice, Gao Tu answered flatly:
“My Omega is pregnant.”
After ten years of lying, he’d become a skilled enough liar to spit it out with his heart hammering and ears ringing.
“I need to take care of my child, so I must leave.”
Shen Wenlang’s face darkened at once.
Gao Tu’s eyes stung, but thankfully they stayed dry.
Calmly, to the Alpha he had deceived and loved for ten years, he silently said: I’m leaving you. I’m sorry.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you vomiting like that?”
“Gastroenteritis.”
Even though he no longer worked for him, no longer drew his salary, Gao Tu still answered respectfully, hiding the fact that he hadn’t replied to his WeChat in three days.
“You quit because that unmarried Omega dared get pregnant?”
Standing in the light of the restroom door, Shen Wenlang’s face was obscured.
But Gao Tu could hear the disdain and mockery in his drawl:
“Throwing up like that—anyone who didn’t know would think you’re the one who’s pregnant.”
The nightmare bled into reality.
Gao Tu’s face went even paler.
He instinctively shielded his stomach, eyes fixed, blurting like a child reciting an answer:
“It’s not me. I’m not pregnant.”
Realizing how strange that must sound, he lowered his hands stiffly and asked:
“Why are you here, Shen General Manager?”
Shen Wenlang froze, then, flustered and angry, nearly barked: What’s it to you?
But catching the Beta’s awful expression, his tone softened against his will:
“Visiting a friend.”
Gao Tu stared at him, as if trying to tell if he was lying.
Under his gaze, Shen Wenlang felt strangely guilty. He coughed and added unconvincingly:
“Hua Yong is sick. I came to see him. You’ve been gone three days, won’t answer calls or texts, and yet you still pry?”
Hua Secretary… the only Omega he openly allowed near him.
Gao Tu forced a smile.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Nothing. Wishing Hua Secretary a speedy recovery. Goodbye, Shen General Manager.”
He turned to leave.
But Shen Wenlang moved before his brain caught up, grabbing his arm.
Gao Tu stumbled backward, startled.
The Alpha was surprised too—at his own abruptness, at how thin the wrist in his grip had become.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Wh-what?”
“Are you that broke?” Shen Wenlang asked. “Is that why you don’t eat properly?”
The intensity of his gaze made Gao Tu’s eyes sting. He looked away hastily.
“No.”
“Gao Tu, you’ve never been this thin, not even in high school. If you’re in trouble, tell me. We were classmates. I won’t refuse to help.”
“No need.”
He pulled his wrist free, refusing awkwardly but firmly.
“I eat plenty every day. Thank you for your concern. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”
There was fire in Shen Wenlang’s chest.
For the first time, he felt the full weight of Gao Tu’s rejection.
Since their school days, Gao Tu had never refused him—never said no to anything.
But now, the way he avoided his gaze, the way he resolutely declined his help—felt so foreign it scared him.
It was as if he truly no longer needed him.
As if he’d already decided… to leave him completely.