Beta Doesn't Mean a Bottom

The Same Beginning

Chapter 20

The clink of porcelain broke the stillness in the dining room.

Lin Wanyue sat at the breakfast table with a blanket draped over his shoulders, face paled just enough to suggest lingering sickness. His hand hovered above the bowl of porridge as if deciding whether it was worth the effort.

Across from him, Shen Qiao set his terminal aside.

“You’re still not eating?”

“I will,” Lin said quietly.

“You’ve barely touched anything since yesterday.”

Lin picked up the spoon and stirred the porridge without looking at it. His fingers were steady. His face expressionless. The housekeeper approached with a new dish—thinly sliced lotus root, braised sweet potato, and porridge with goji berries.

Lin’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

He recognized it. The original owner’s favorite.

Shen must’ve told the kitchen.

He took a small spoonful and brought it to his mouth.

The taste wasn’t bad. It was even comforting, in a bland, soft sort of way. But the moment it settled in his stomach, Lin leaned back and placed the spoon down.

“I’ll be right back.”

Shen frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Lin didn’t answer.

He rose and walked calmly to the hallway bathroom. The door shut with a soft click, and a moment later, the sound of retching followed — not loud, not theatrical, just enough.

Lin knelt over the toilet, pressing two fingers briefly against the back of his throat.

He waited, counted to five, and flushed.

By the time he stepped back into the hallway, his eyes were slightly glassy, and his skin had taken on a faint pallor from bending forward.

Shen was already standing.

Lin offered a brief shake of his head. “I’m fine. Must’ve been the oil.”

“You didn’t even eat the oily part,” Shen said, voice laced with concern.

“Then maybe it was the smell.”

He returned to his chair and poured himself a glass of warm water.

The housekeeper looked alarmed. Shen didn’t sit again for a while. He hovered, watching Lin with that same thoughtful gaze—the kind people used when trying to add up details that didn’t quite fit.

Good.

Let him wonder.

---

Shen didn’t go to the office that day. Post-event lull. No meetings. No urgent deadlines. Just quiet.

Lin spent most of the afternoon in the bedroom, nestled beneath a light blanket, terminal set aside on the bed. He wasn’t watching anything. Just listening—to footsteps, to doors opening, to Shen moving between rooms.

He didn’t need to be seen today.

He needed to be felt—the weight of his silence, the fragility of his presence.

Midday, while Shen was in the study, Lin stepped into the master bathroom and opened the drawer beneath the sink.

A small white box sat tucked near the back.

One of those simple home test kits.

He took it out and stared at it. The irony wasn’t lost on him—he already had the fabricated report from the hospital, sealed and dated in his terminal archive. This part was redundant.

But the original story had gone this way.

The Beta had suspected, tested, and hesitated. The Male Lead had noticed the change but not the cause.

Lin ran water over his hands, peeled the wrapper open, and did it anyway.

He left the test on the counter and sat on the closed toilet lid as the screen loaded.

When the result flashed onto the display, he blinked once.

Then he wiped it down, wrapped it in tissue, and tucked it back into the drawer.

No reaction. No need.

He’d already chosen the ending.

---

By evening, the rain had started again—thin, steady, and constant.

Lin paced the living room once, slowly straightening the cushions and wiping the table with a cloth he didn’t need. Every movement was light, quiet. The kind that created atmosphere, not action.

Shen stood at the edge of the kitchen, observing him.

“You look pale,” he said.

“I always look pale,” Lin replied, turning toward the window.

“You’ve been quieter than usual.”

Lin didn’t respond.

The house felt still. Not cold, not tense—but heavy. Like something was hanging between them, suspended and quiet, waiting to fall.

Shen opened his mouth to say something—then stopped.

Instead, he walked over and sat beside him on the couch. They didn’t touch.

Lin stared ahead at nothing in particular, eyes distant but unreadable.

The silence that filled the room wasn’t accidental.

It was constructed.

---

End of Chapter 20.