Chapter Text
Shang Qinghua nervously slides two boxes of tests across the counter, hidden between a pint of lactose-free ice cream and a package of instant ramen. He stares down the cashier, hard, daring her to make a comment; but the girl behind the counter just scans his items with a bored expression and puts everything into a cheap plastic bag.
“Cash or card?” she asks, in a bored voice.
“Um. Card.” Shang Qinghua wonders how many people actually pay with cash anymore, before shaking his head at a memory of Mobei-Jun using a stack of crisp bills the last time they went out to eat together. Rich people.
He grabs the plastic bag and ducks out of the store quickly. He didn’t recognize anyone there, and living so far from his work means he rarely runs into anyone he knows, but, well…it’s a sensitive purchase. He’d rather not have a nosy coworker jump to assumptions on him.
Shang Qinghua scurries down the street and into his dilapidated apartment building. He quickly puts his food items away and then marches straight to the bathroom with his tests. No point in dragging it out any longer, he knows. If he could change his life based on his own wishes, he wouldn’t be in a situation even remotely like this one. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. Mobei-Jun would still feature in his wildest fantasy, of course. Under different circumstances, he might even be thrilled to have to take a pregnancy test, but as it stands, all he feels is a sinking sensation. His body already knows. He knows that it knows. This will just be confirmation.
-
15 minutes later, Shang Qinghua sits on the floor of his bathroom, shivering slightly. He can smell his own distress and despair, and fainter, a note of hope. It tickles his nose and makes him want to sneeze, and he hates himself for it. It’s false hope. He knows this too. Unfortunately, this time, his body isn’t on the same page as his brain. He stares down at the two tests. Two pink lines show back at him from the first, and a digital ‘yes :)’ is stark on the face of the other. He curls up tighter, knees pressing into his chest, mind empty, shaking apart. A new life pieces itself together inside of him.
Several hours pass before he’s managed to pull himself together enough to formulate a plan. (Plans have always been his strong suit, after all.) Even if his…situation…was not expected, it is not unwanted. Shang Qinghua will be the first to admit that he takes his birth control only when his brain jolts him into remembering it’s something he needs to do. This is mostly every day, but, well, the time is not exactly what one might call ‘consistent.’ Also, while he usually insists on his partners wearing a condom, it’s true that he’s been less concerned about it lately since he’s been seeing just one person for a while now. He may have even encouraged going without it - just once or twice! - but even then, he always insisted Mobei-Jun pull out before he came! That was what mattered, right??
Except, apparently not.
Hmm. Too late to worry about that now. Shang Qinghua had spent 20 minutes in the bathroom panicking over what to do until his brain had stumbled over one crystallizing thought: If I have Mobei-Jun’s baby, even when he leaves me, I’ll still have this child. I’ll have proof for myself that it was real. And maybe, if I do it right…this child will want to stay with me. I won’t be alone.
So look. He’s aware it’s a shitty, selfish reason to go through with this. But what is Shang Qinghua at his core if not a shitty, selfish person? If he tries his hardest, maybe he can raise his child to be good. Unlike his parents, he won’t ever give up on it. No matter what. That’s right, this flaky, insincere man would change his ways to raise his child right! That has to count for something. And look, see? This child was already helping him become a better person!
In regards to its other parent, well. Shang Qinghua figures there are two ways for things to go. Either Mobei-Jun wants to participate in raising their child in some way, or he doesn’t. It doesn’t really matter to Shang Qinghua. He knows that even if Mobei-Jun wants to be involved in the baby’s life, it doesn’t mean that he’ll want to stay in Shang Qinghua’s life. At some point they will inevitably fall apart, and that’s fine, but for their child’s sake Shang Qinghua will make sure that it does not impact whatever arrangement they come up with for the baby. Whatever Mobei-Jun decides, he will have to know that it is non-negotiable - no flaking from him, either! If Shang Qinghua can do it, so can you, sir!
He shudders slightly. Making the decision to move forward with his pregnancy was almost easy. Telling Mobei-Jun will not be. No matter how hard he tries to convince himself that he doesn’t really care.
-
Shang Qinghua arrives at work on Monday morning full of resolve. This early, his scent hasn’t changed yet, and his only sign that something was wrong was a late cycle and some soreness in his chest. He still feels anxious at the thought of having to face Mobei-Jun, at the thought of having to find a time to tell him the news, but he is thankful that he still has time to do things on his terms, rather than being outed because he smells or looks pregnant.
Shang Qinghua has worked in accounting at Northern Desert Gear for about a year now. Previously, he had worked at Cang Qiong Textiles, until the company was bought out by some conglomerate that he still isn’t really clear the name of, only that it is owned by one Luo Binghe - the demonic husband of his best frienemy, Shen Yuan. Northern Desert Gear had already been a subsidiary of the same conglomerate when Cang Qiong was absorbed, and in the interest of “corporate bonding” (which he was fairly certain just meant someone higher up had no interest in learning anything about the new conquest, and that he was now responsible for answering any questions that his new company may have about his old one) he had been transfered from one to the other. It didn’t make sense to him, but his new workspace was two floors up from his last one, so he considered it a step up in life and just got on with it. Yes, his workload had increased in the acquisition, but all of his grievances had vanished the second he set eyes on his new boss that very first day.
Mobei-Jun was everything an executive should be - tall, broad shouldered and lean, with cold eyes and a perma-scowl that could scare any competitors into submission! He had stopped by Shang Qinghua’s cubicle to introduce himself to the new hire, and Shang Qinghua had ascended on the spot. What presence! What poise! Who was this ideal man, to be within touching distance of lowly little Shang Qinghua?!
Anyway, a little over a month after that they had somehow started hooking up. Just casually, of course! It began when Shang Qinghua was invited out to drinks by Shen Yuan to celebrate the end of his probation period with the new company. Shen Yuan still technically worked for Cang Qiong, but only in the sense that his salary came out of their payroll. Like any good CEO’s spouse, Shen Yuan only showed up to work when the ‘vibes’ were right rather than following any kind of real schedule. (Shang Qinghua was very grateful to have that suspicious accounting work taken off his hands, thank you very much!) His sticky, clingy CEO husband had, of course, tagged along, and he had brought Mobei-Jun as - an attempt at not being a third wheel? As if Shen Yuan would ever let Luo Binghe be a third wheel. An intimidation tactic? If so, mission accomplished! Or maybe it had been a friendly gesture to bring Shang Qinghua into the good graces of his new boss: unlikely, given how self(Shen Yuan)-centered he knew Luo Binghe to be, but it had (kind of) worked out that way in the end. After all, ‘friendly’ was the least of what one could call the relations Mobei-Jun had with Shang Qinghua that night. And every Friday night since then. And most Saturdays. Hey, it was convenient! No one could say Shang Qinghua was not pragmatic. Mobei-Jun had a giant dick and knew how to use it; Shang Qinghua would take a guaranteed orgasm over sitting around at home staring at the wall any night!
(Okay, so maybe this was selling Mobei-Jun a little short. To only say ‘a guaranteed orgasm,’ as if Mobei-Jun didn’t always fuck him until he was shivering and shaking and truly unable to come any more! He even sometimes let Shang Qinghua spend the night, which truly was only fair since it was because of him that Shang Qinghua was unable to stand on his shaky legs like a newborn fawn. It was actually almost impressive that it had taken him nearly a year to knock Shang Qinghua up.)
“Shang Qinghua.”
Shang Qinghua jumps straight into Mobei-Jun’s pecs. “Ah! Sir! Good morning, sir! H-how was your weekend?”
“Mn. Fine. How was Shang Qinghua’s?” Mobei-Jun glares down at him, a crease between his brows. Shang Qinghua knows that crease means he’s concerned, even if it just looks like he’s pissed off, and maybe a little constipated. Right, they hadn’t met this weekend because Shang Qinghua was supposed to be in the throes of his menstrual cycle. So much for that.
“Oh, um, it was fine, too! No major life revelations or anything like that, haha.” Shang Qinghua cringes internally - shut up, stupid! - before continuing on with inane babble to drown out that stupid line. “I mostly just sat around and worked on some of my little stories, you know, I really think I have something good going with one that I’m working on right now. There’s this ice king, see, or, well, he’s a prince right now but he’ll be the king eventually even if I’m the only one who knows it. He’s got this, um, this superpower, see and—”
“Sir? You’re needed on a call with Huan Hua,” Gongyi Xiao’s calm, polite voice cuts through Shang Qinghua’s inane chatter. Secretary of the year, ah?! Please give this simple accountant a little more time to work up the courage to tell Mobei-Jun they need to have a talk! He was getting there, really, truly, he was!
Mobei-Jun has already turned to follow Gongyi Xiao back to his office without sparing Shang Qinghua a second glance. “Wait!” Shang Qinghua cries. “Sir! Please, wait! I really do have something to discuss with you!”
Mobei-Jun turns and looks at him over his shoulder coldly. “Later,” he says, and then resumes following Gongyi Xiao.
-
Shang Qinghua sighs and takes his seat in his sad little cubicle. He gets about halfway through balancing last week’s expenses before he is very rudely interrupted by his least favorite coworker.
Linguang-Jun-Jun is Mobei-Jun’s uncle, and the least productive accountant on Northern Desert’s payroll. It’s not for lack of skill - he truly has a way with managing financials - but rather for lack of effort. No one has been brave enough to actually say the word ‘nepotism’ so far, and it seems like Linguang-Jun’s entire career goal is centered around breaking someone into saying it to his face.
“Shang Qinghua!” Linguang-Jun says brightly. “Good morning! I trust your weekend was as refreshing as it always is?”
“Hm. I guess,” Shang Qinghua replies. He hates the slimy looks Linguang-Jun is giving him. He hates the feeling that Linguang-Jun might know something is going on between him and Mobei-Jun. He hates the sound of Linguang-Jun’s breathing in the mornings. Okay, so one of those things is not like the others. Whatever. He has to distract himself from the big problems somehow.
Linguang-Jun’s smile somehow gets brighter. “Oh? You don’t sound yourself, though! Usually on Monday mornings you’re like a little ray of sunshine! What’s the matter, are you feeling like another person?”
Shang Qinghua winces at the unintentional implication of that phrase. His hand involuntarily twitches, the reflex to fly to his stomach already starting. Linguang-Jun, slimeball that he is, picks up on this immediately.
“Well, well. Perhaps now is as good of a time as any. Do you mind if we have a private little chat, Qinghua?”
He feels fear chill himself down to his bones. He knows. He knows. Shang Qinghua despairs. How could he know? No one knows but me. Not Mobei-Jun. Not Shen Yuan. No one. It’s impossible. But even as he thinks this, he knows the impossible has somehow become possible. Linguang-Jun knows. Shang Qinghua can smell the fear seeping into his scent, trailing them as they walk down the hallway to a small file room. Linguang-Jun holds the door open just enough for him to squeeze into the room, forcing him to brush against Linguang-Jun as he does so. He shudders at the contact, and then again when he hears the lock engage behind him.
“So. The little rat is pregnant,” Linguang-Jun sneers. All pretense of niceties have been dropped. “I suppose you’re beside yourself with joy? A little Mobei-Jun baby to secure yourself to the family fortune, and an heir to the company for Mobei-Jun besides. Congratulations should be in order, no?” His sneer drops, and he strikes Shang Qinghua across the face, hard. Linguang-Jun is a beta, but even so his pheromones are leaking out with the intensity of his emotions. The scent of his desire to hurt, to kill, is slowly filling the small room. Shang Qinghua cowers into a stack of manila folders and holds his stinging cheek. “Forgive my impudence, but you’ll be waiting on a congratulations for a little longer. There are some things we need to discuss first.”
Shang Qinghua does his best to swallow his fear as he glares at Linguang-Jun. He’s in shock from the slap, and he knows that this is not the worst that Linguang-Jun likely plans to do, although he is not sure how the man expects to get away with beating him when he so clearly knows that Shang Qinghua is intimately involved with Mobei-Jun. He can’t believe that Mobei-Jun won’t see the evidence, so it must be that he really doesn’t care. This thought scares him more than the slap.
“You won’t even ask me what I want to discuss with you? My, my. The little rat thinks himself above me already now, does he? Well. I’ll just have to tell you then.” His sneer returns. “If you think, for a single second, that I am going to roll over and let some little snot-nosed brat take my spot in the line of succession, you are sorely mistaken. Mobei-Jun will not have an heir, not as long as I am around to do something about it. But I am benevolent, and truly this child is nothing to me. So I will give you two choices.”
Shang Qinghua stares at him. The fear has made him numb. Linguang-Jun does not appear surprised by his lack of response, and continues after a small pause. “One: You remain employed by Northern Desert. You work your little desk job, you continue to sleep with my nephew, whatever, I don’t care. But your precious little baby inside of you, well. Creating a life is a delicate thing, under any circumstances. It’s not unusual to have a miscarriage. There are so many causes, and it can be so difficult to pinpoint any one reason, if the doctors even bother to check. It can be something as dramatic as an accidental tumble down the stairs, or a case of food poisoning! More often it is so simple that it appears as if it were nothing at all. Even young children die often of unexplained causes. Do you understand me?”
Shang Qinghua hisses at the threat. His arms are clutched tight around his middle. He feels like he might throw up from the raw fear coursing through his body and the smell of Linguang-Jun’s rage. Slowly, he nods his head.
“There is, of course, a second option!” Linguang-Jun continues, with sickly cheer injected into his voice. “I would not be so cruel as to leave you without an alternative. Therefore, I give you this choice: leave now. Today. Run far away. Hide yourself and your child from the world. Raise it as a bastard. Never contact Mobei-Jun again. In return, you will be given the freedom to live your lives in peace. I will not bother you as long as you do not interfere with what is mine. And so! Having heard this generous offer, what do you say?”
“Are you stupid?”
Linguang-Jun blinks at him, then tilts his head. “I’m sorry, did you just ask me if I’m stupid?”
“Yes. Are you stupid? To think Mobei-Jun would just…what, let me leave without a word? What choice is this, ah?! He will follow me! He will find me right away! And I suppose you would count that as a betrayal to this bargain and m-murder my child the second I came back, is that it?”
“Ah, I see. You think I have not planned for this scenario. Truly, do you think I would be so sloppy, Qinghua? I know you’ve seen my work! Of course, I have a solution to this, and one I think you will appreciate. I have programs in place to transfer $100,000 to your bank account at my command. You leave, you get this money! Think of it as…advance child support for the next 18 years. Or a bribe, whatever, I don’t care. Unfortunately, the programs do seem to implicate you in the embezzlement of these funds, since everything is attached to your work accounts and is coming directly from your computer. It will look as though a lowly accountant, overworked and frustrated with his meaningless transfer, saw a flaw in Northern Desert’s accounting and decided to take advantage. I know where you live, Shang Qinghua. I’ve seen your sad little life. You know as well as I do, no one will doubt this story.”
Shang Qinghua pauses. He knows Linguang-Jun is right. He’s always been a shifty little guy, not good at connecting with coworkers to earn their trust, and his current financial state is…not good. He’s been working on paying off his father’s bad debt, but there’s a lot to repay. Enough that $100,000 would cover it, but it would put a decent dent in that number.
He thinks about his life. About his future. The two visions he had, very briefly, entertained after telling Mobei-Jun about the pregnancy. One with Mobei-Jun involved, happy, taking their child fishing and hunting, joining Shang Qinghua to cheer their child on at sporting events and school functions. The other, with Shang Qinghua raising this baby alone, Mobei-Jun opting not to acknowledge his offspring. Two choices, he thinks to himself. Two choices each, but they both come back to this one. He has already started preparing for the idea of being a single parent. If the alternative is this unspeakable plan Linguang-Jun has to ensure his child never makes it through their first year, his choice is starkly simple.
“What makes you think,” he says quietly, “that I won’t come back later? A five year old is not so easy to….fake an accident.” He feels sick. He feels so sick. Would he even be able to do that to his child, to risk their life for the chance to return to Mobei-Jun? He isn’t sure, but it’s his only card to play. He has to try.
Linguang-Jun sighs. “Ah. I think both of us know it would not really be that difficult for me to arrange something like that. Regardless, a five year old bastard…well. I cannot imagine that would go over well with the board. It would not truly be a challenge to dissuade them from allowing the child to become heir. In fact, it might work in my favor, if they were so offended by my nephew’s lewd behavior towards his employee and subsequent rejection thereof. And a bastard whose mother stole company funds?! Forgive me, Qinghua, but I think you and I both know that bringing your child back will not gain you any favors, from Mobei-Jun, from the company, or anyone else.”
Fuck. No way out, then. Two choices, no loopholes. One last question slowly surfaces in his mind.
“How did you even know I was pregnant?” he asks carefully. He cannot comprehend how everything has fallen apart this quickly.
“Mm, I thought you would have already figured this out,” Linguang-Jun says with a tired sigh, as though he is disappointed in Shang Qinghua. “If I can make it look like you stole $100,000 from our company, I have access to your bank account. Obviously! I knew you were sleeping around with Mobei-Jun, so I thought it might be a good idea to keep an eye on your purchases just to see what kind of dirt I could dig up for the future. I admit I was as surprised as you must have been when I saw that you bought pregnancy tests! I do see the charge for your birth control prescription, after all. I suppose my nephew just has to go above and beyond in everything he does.”
Shang Qinghua thinks back to his choice in the convenience store. Two choices there, too - cash or card. A small choice in his daily routine, one that Linguang-Jun must have known he has made hundreds of time. Card, always card, who uses cash?! Shang Qinghua wants to scream. He closes his eyes and resigns himself to his choices in life.
“I’ll go.”
Linguang-Jun grins. “Mn, excellent choice. No time like the present, in my opinion! The sooner the better. I’d say…no closer than 1,000 miles. I’ll keep an eye on you until you’ve found a place to settle far away from here, so don’t even try to pull a fast one over on me. The money will be in your account by noon.” The lock on the door disengages and Linguang-Jun steps out, leaving Shang Qinghua alone in the small room.
Shang Qinghua bows his head. His arms hurt, and he distantly realizes that his nails have been gripping into his skin so hard that he’s drawn blood under the sleeves of his shirt. His jaw feels tight, and he can feel tears burning behind his eyelids. He allows himself 60 seconds to pull himself together, one shaky breath at a time. Then he opens the door and walks out.
“Shang Qinghua?”
Shang Qinghua freezes on the spot. He turns, slowly, hoping against hope that his face shows none of the bleak despair that is roaring through his mind and body. He tries to force a smile. He cannot feel the muscles in his face to know what it might be doing.
Shen Yuan stands behind him, looking curious. His expression flickers briefly as his eyes roam over Shang Qinghua’s face, and then settle into something hard. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. It’s Monday, I’m tired.”
“Airplane.”
Shit. Shen Yuan never calls him that at work unless he’s really concerned. If Cucumber-bro had his way, no one would know that he was an awful little weeb in his free time.
“Okay, fine. I feel sick. It’s something with my stomach. I think I need to go home.” He tries to sound as pathetic and sniveling as possible. It’s pretty easy. He feels very pathetic. Also very sick, so it’s not even a lie.
Shen Yuan takes one more look at him and then glances the other way down the hall. When he looks back, his expression is suspicious, but it softens again when he takes in Shang Qinghua’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, go home. I think Mobei-Jun is in meetings all morning, do you want me to tell him for you?”
Shang Qinghua nods. He wasn’t going to say goodbye, anyway. It doesn’t matter what Mobei-Jun thinks; in fact, he will probably believe this lie very easily, under the impression Shang Qinghua is still having his period. Whatever. He’ll never see him again, and even if Mobei-Jun knew the truth about what was happening, well...he would leave Shang Qinghua eventually anyways. Everyone does. He always thought he would be alone for the rest of his life, before he found out about the baby. So it doesn’t matter that he's technically leaving Mobei-Jun first. It doesn't matter. It doesn’t matter.
So why does it feel like it matters?
Shang Qinghua gathers his coat and his phone from his desk. He takes one look around the office and lets his stare linger on Mobei-Jun’s back, spun towards the far side of his office with walls of glass, admiring the long, hard planes of his body that Shang Qinghua will never feel again. He is on the phone. He does not turn in Shang Qinghua’s direction.
Shang Qinghua leaves.