“Why don’t you have one yourself, then?” The man’s palm…
The man’s palm pressed against the back of Zhang Lu’s hand, leaning down to brush against his burning earlobe, and laughed lazily. “Stabbed with a knife, served time… such a stubborn bone… yet your heart is so soft…”
This sentence, once again like a sharp blade, almost peeled Zhang Lu’s skin and debarked his bones. Riddled with shame and rage, he mustered every last ounce of strength in his body, suddenly raising his hand to strike at that condescending face with its glaring smile.
Weak and frail as he was, before his fingertips could even touch the man’s skin, his wrist was gently caught and firmly locked in place.
The force was not heavy, but it held him tight, completely sealing off any chance of escape.
The man chuckled softly, joy flashing in his eyes, his thumb gently rubbing against Zhang Lu’s rough, burning wristbone.
The fetal heartbeat still echoed steadily, clear in rhythm, striking like a hammer against Zhang Lu’s taut nerves.
Holding Zhang Lu’s wrist without letting go, the man lifted his gaze slightly, his eyes falling upon Zhang Lu’s tear-rimmed, reddened corners of the eyes, and spoke in a gentle tone. “Done making a fuss? Will you eat something now?”
“Or do you plan to… starve to death with it?”
Zhang Lu gritted his teeth so hard they clicked, his fists clenched tight. The thumping heartbeat in his ears felt like a wire wrapped around his heart, tightening with every beat.
After a long silence, he rasped out through clenched teeth, “Hand it over. I will eat it myself.”
The man raised an eyebrow slightly, a trace of a smile flashing in his eyes. He stopped taunting him and slowly released his wrist.
He turned back, asked someone to bring a fresh bowl of porridge, and handed the bowl and spoon together to Zhang Lu.
Zhang Lu averted his gaze, refusing to look at that suffocating face, and stiffly reached out to take the bowl.
As his fingertips touched the warm ceramic surface, his entire hand trembled imperceptibly.
Swallowing a mouthful of porridge, it was bland and tasteless, yet it felt like swallowing a ball of fire, burning his throat raw.
Forcing it down bite after bite, he did not look at the man again for the entire duration, focusing all his mental energy on suppressing the scorching heat in his throat and chest.
The moment the bowl hit rock bottom, he stiffly shoved it toward the edge of the bed and remained silent.
The man reached out, took it, passed it to someone else, and then leisurely turned off the fetal heart monitor that was still attached to Zhang Lu’s lower abdomen.
“I will thank you on behalf of my abomination,” the man said calmly. “At least you are willing to wait—wait until it is born, and then choke it to death.”
Zhang Lu’s face turned pale, his teeth aching from biting down so hard, but he refused to speak again.
The man did not push him further. He simply picked up the pre-prepared prenatal medicine and warm water from the side, handing them to him. “Here, take your medicine.”
Zhang Lu stared at the white pills, his bloodshot eyes rigid for several seconds before he reached out, grabbed them, and threw his head back to swallow them harshly. The intense bitterness rushed straight up his nasal cavity, choking him into a muffled, uncontrollable cough.
The man’s palm landed squarely against his back, stroking him gently. His voice was as low as a murmur right beside his ear, carrying an indescribable sense of satiated fulfillment. “Good boy…”
Zhang Lu clutched the bedsheet, his shoulders tense as iron. He violently shrank back to avoid the touch, his voice hoarse, “You are done doing whatever you wanted. Why are you not getting lost?”
Unfazed, the man chuckled softly and slowly withdrew his hand.
“Get some rest.”
Straightening up, his tone flat, he added, “Someone is guarding outside the door. Just press the call button if you need anything.”
With that, he stopped lingering and turned toward the bedroom door.
It was not until he was left completely alone in the room that Zhang Lu finally let go of his tension, collapsing limply onto the bed, too exhausted even to keep his eyes open.
Yet, no sooner had he closed his eyes than that cold, sharp face with its controlling smile crashed unceremoniously into his mind.
Zhang Lu bolted upright from the bed almost violently. A sudden, violent spasm wracked his stomach, and a roiling wave of nausea rushed straight up his throat.
His face turned instantly pale. Fumbling clumsily, he grabbed the plastic basin prepared on the bedside table, bowed his head to press his hands tightly over his mouth, and shuddered as he dry-heaved uncontrollably.
However, his stomach was completely empty. The porridge and medicine he had eaten earlier had long since gone down, and aside from a few mouthfuls of acidic fluid, he could throw up nothing at all. Only physiological spasms remained, pulling a dull, heavy ache in his lower abdomen.
He propped himself up against the rim of the basin, panting heavily, cold sweat soaking through his fringe. Humiliation and physical nausea intertwined, tightening his chest so much that even breathing felt raw and painful.
Why did I end up in a state like this?
He was like a lone wolf. Throughout his entire life, he had never bowed to anyone or bent his back.
His parents had passed away early, leaving only a young younger brother behind. To raise him, Zhang Lu had endured every kind of hardship and dared to do any ruthless deed. In street fights, he always charged to the front. For heavy lifting and moving, he picked the most exhausting jobs. If anyone dared to bully his brother, he would pick up an iron rod and fight them to the death. His brute strength and countless scars were all tempered from surviving at the very bottom.
The reason he served time back then was to protect his brother. He had bitten through his teeth and never begged for mercy once, surviving straight-backed behind bars.
He was strong, could fight, and was ruthless. In this life, he only believed in one truth: rely on yourself, protect your family, and even if the sky fell, he could carry it on his own.
But what about now?
He was trapped in this cold, luxurious bed, carrying an unthinkable child inside his body. Even eating, taking medicine, and breathing required him to look at that man’s face.
The body that once carried a hundred pounds of cargo and knocked down strong men with his bare hands was now weak and fragile, dry-heaving uncontrollably at the slightest emotional agitation.
The stubborn backbone that would rather snap than bend was now tethered tightly by a faint fetal heartbeat.
The proud man who stood tall to protect his brother was now reduced to a container kept in captivity by someone else, solely for the purpose of birthing a child.
Zhang Lu gripped the rim of the basin so tightly his knuckles ached.
By what right?
He had never harmed anyone in his life, fighting desperately just to survive and protect his loved ones. What kind of sin had he committed to end up in a state where his dignity was trampled underfoot and he could not even control his own body?
Closing his eyes once more, that absurd and terrifying nightmare wrapped around his neck again like a venomous snake, tightening its coils.
He had always thought that supreme torture meant bloody violence, iron fists smashing against flesh, and cold blades severing tendons.
Yet he never imagined that the cruelest execution of all was never just physical pain.
The young man looked down at him from above, his gaze as cold and sharp as a blade, sizing him up like a prey destined to be grasped in his palm and thoroughly remade.
First came the crisp, metallic sound of a belt buckle being undone in his ears, followed immediately by that uniquely crisp yet cellar-cold scent of fragrance drifting into his nasal cavity and carving itself into his marrow.
Zhang Lu remembered how several people had pinned him forcefully onto the wide, cold leather sofa.
He had struggled and roared wildly like a beast driven to a desperate corner, his muscles bulging as if they might tear apart. But immediately after, a cold syringe pierced the skin of his side neck, and a bizarre, searingly hot liquid was forcefully pushed into his veins.
That was the execution prepared exclusively for him.
The drug took effect with ferocious cruelty.
The strength that could carry a hundred pounds and take down grown men with bare hands drained away like dried water, vanishing instantly without a trace.
He could only watch helplessly as those slender, pale hands, untainted by a speck of dirt, leisurely pulled off a tie and tightly bound his rough wrists together.
No beating, no slashing with knives.
There was only an absolute, crushing dominance that pulverized all his dignity and resistance into dust.
It was a tearing and deprivation a million times more painful than a knife physically piercing the body.
The man’s heavy frame pressed down, his aggressive body heat and presence completely sealing off all his avenues of retreat.
Pain.
It felt like a block of raw iron being forcibly split and crushed apart, with even the gaps between his bones seeping a tearing agony.
He desperately tilted his head back, the veins on his neck bulging as he squeezed blood-tinged curses from his throat.
Yet this struggle of ultimate despair earned nothing in return except a low laugh from the man murmuring right beside his ear.
That laughter was bizarrely gentle and bone-chillingly cruel, accompanied by a suffocating plunder and occupation.
“You like protecting cubs so much? Then why don’t you have one yourself, then?”
After that nightmare, he was locked away in another spacious room.
Cold yet luxurious, with exquisite furniture, it was a place Zhang Lu had never even dared to dream of in his entire life.
Yet the doors and windows remained locked forever, guards stood at the entrance, and wherever he walked, eyes followed.
By day, meals were delivered punctually, but no one ever spoke an extra word.
By night, that young man would always arrive.
Like a dormant beast, radiating an oppressive aura of absolute certainty.
Zhang Lu had tried to resist, trying to pounce using his remaining strength, but every single time, the man would just laugh and render him immobile.
That dangerously attractive face, with the madness and ruthlessness hidden in the depths of its eyes, he understood better than anyone.
Then came the warm breath, the crisp cold fragrance, and that suffocating sense of control, right on schedule.
Densely woven entanglement.
Along with that demonic whisper. “The cub you give birth to will definitely be just as strong as you.”
He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, buried his face into the pillow, and forcefully swallowed down every ounce of humiliation and anger.
From unbearable pain, it gradually faded into numbness.
His body, too, began to change subtly amidst these daily tortures.
At first, it was just morning sickness, but later it slowly turned into lethargy and fatigue.
His lower abdomen also began to harbor an imperceptible, heavy sinking sensation.
Panic quietly struck his heart, yet he dared not think too deeply about whether it was the side effect of the medicine or simply weakness from prolonged imprisonment.
Until that night, when the man came again, not leaning in close as usual, but simply sitting by the edge of the bed, his fingertips gently resting upon Zhang Lu’s lower abdomen with an uncharacteristic gentleness.
Zhang Lu abruptly tensed his body, instinctively wanting to pull away, but another hand from the man pressed down on his shoulder. The force was light, yet carried an irresistible, unyielding firmness.
“Do not hide.” The man’s voice was very low, stripping away the usual sarcasm and cruelty, leaving only a nearly pathological obsession. “You should know, it is here.”
Zhang Lu’s heart shrank violently, as if tightly gripped by an icy hand.
He suddenly opened his eyes, turning to look at the man. His eyes were filled with unbelievable panic and rejection. “You… what are you talking nonsense for?”
The man chuckled softly, his fingertips gently stroking Zhang Lu’s flat lower abdomen. His gaze was dark and burning, as if appraising a rare treasure, and he hammered every word clearly into Zhang Lu’s heart.
“I am not talking nonsense.”
“Zhang Lu, you are pregnant.”
“It is my child.”
This single sentence broke him down far more than that initial cold syringe, far more than those days and nights of entanglement, and far more than any humiliation before.
“I do not believe it!” He struggled violently. Even though his body was weak and lacking strength, he tried his utmost to bat away the hand pressing on his abdomen, roaring with bloodshot eyes, “You lunatic! Pervert! You are lying to me! This is impossible!”