Chapter Text
Being an S-Class Alpha was a blessing—power, respect, status—
but also a curse wrapped in aggressive pheromones.
The warnings in sex education classes about “the need for a compatible omega and instinct regulation” had gone in one ear and out the other. To him, omegas were a nuisance, despicable creatures.
Now, at twenty-one, that negligence was tearing him apart from the inside: he was losing himself in the primitive haze of instinct.
Hua Yong was fed up; Wenlang was slowly losing control.
The aggressive pheromones spilling out without restraint, the increasing irritability and bad temper—all a result of his deep resentment toward omegas.
He cared a lot about his friend; after all, he had helped him find his Alpha, Shaoyou, much sooner than he had ever imagined. In fact, he’d even considered showing his gratitude b forgiven the seven billion he owed for founding HS.
“That money won’t be of any use to him if, at twenty-one, he’s about to develop a level-3 pheromone disorder,” Shaoyou said coldly, reacting to the problem the enigma sprawled across his lap had just explained.
“Whether he likes it or not, he needs an omega to stabilize himself as an S-Class Alpha.”
“You never needed an omega,” the enigma replied with a hint of mischief.
“That’s only because there was always a ghost orchid making sure of it, A-yong.
But Wenlang needs regulation. It’s childish and irrational of him to put his health at risk.
I know he’s your best friend, but he needs to come to his senses.”
The conversation ended there.
Despite Shaoyou’s cold logic, Hua Yong couldn’t simply abandon Shen Wenglang. Omega Ying, a figure whose influence was subtle yet undeniable, had explicitly entrusted him with looking after the Alpha with the mind of a tantrum-prone puppy.
Weeks passed.
Wenlang’s crises became more frequent, and HS board meetings turned into minefields of tension. The metallic, almost corrosive scent of his unstable iris pheromones seeped through walls, forcing sensitive employees to wear suppressants and extra-strong masks.
During a routine review of the Marketing department reports, Wenglang did something unusual: he paused.
A young man’s name appeared repeatedly on the monthly honor board, each commendation hitting him like a small shock to the memory. Alongside the name, a handwritten note from the director decorated the margin:
“Great organizational ability, discretion, and stress-resistant personnel management.”
Wenglang’s heart gave a small jolt.
Gao Tu.
The beta who had run away on graduation day.
The only person he had trusted without realizing it, as if his presence had always been a silent refuge.
Seeing his name there—so close yet so distant—awakened something that had slept for years.
Nostalgia.
He didn’t think too hard.
If Gao Tu was performing that well, if he was working that close without his knowledge, then that was a mistake he needed to fix.
So he promoted him without hesitation, assigning him the position of his personal secretary and supervisor of the presidential secretarial division.
But when he saw him for the first time since that abrupt farewell, the sight rattled him.
He didn’t find the bright young man he remembered.
Instead, there was a thinner, almost fragile figure. Slightly pronounced cheekbones, dark circles hinting at sleepless nights, and a sadness so deep in his eyes that it robbed Wenglang of breath for a moment.
This wasn’t the Gao Tu he had known.
This was someone who had endured too much, far too alone.
A tight knot formed in Wenglang’s throat.
He didn’t know what Gao Tu had gone through in recent years, but one thing became immediately clear:
He would find out.
And before anything else, he wanted to get his friend back… or whatever was left of him.
The following weeks passed in a strange mix of awkward silences, rigid routines, and Wenglang’s clumsy attempts to get closer.
Gao Tu carried out his duties with almost flawless efficiency, but his smile never reached his eyes. Even so, he was always there—punctual, willing, quiet.
Too quiet.
One morning, while Gao Tu organized the documents on the desk, the office door flew open.
Hua Yong walked in unannounced, as he often did when trying to pull his friend out of a self-inflicted work crisis.
He did not expect to find a “beta” arranging papers with an almost ethereal delicacy.
“And you are…?” he began, frowning.
But before he could finish, an irritated voice cut him off from the doorway:
“What are you doing here?”Wenlang growled, striding toward them with a scowl.
Hua Yong crossed his arms, unimpressed.
“Making sure your head doesn’t explode from your stupid temper,” he said with a crooked grin.
“But it looks like someone else is already handling that.”
The suggestive tone was so obvious that Gao Tu immediately lowered his gaze, uncomfortable.
Wenlang noticed and reacted instantly.
“He’s Gao Tu,” he said quickly.
“An old friend. And my personal secretary.
A very competent beta.”
The emphasis on beta was almost aggressive.
“If you have nothing better to do,” he added coldly without looking at Hua Yong,
“might I suggest going back to your Alpha to play damsel in distress.”
“How kind,” Hua Yong laughed.
He didn’t leave right away.
Watching Gao Tu had sparked a certain curiosity… or suspicion.
He finally stepped out, amused, and closed the door.
But as he walked down the hallway, he couldn’t help processing what he had seen.
Of course he remembered the “beta”Wenlang used to talk about back in school.
That beta who, according to him, was nothing special yet took up far too much space in his thoughts.
But now, seeing him up close…
Softly rounded hips.
Firm, thick thighs.
A narrow waist that seemed made to be held.
That fair skin with a faint rosy tint.
Those full, soft lips—far too striking for someone calling himself a “beta.”
The delicate, almost fragile build.
It was ridiculous.
Everything screamed OMEGA, in neon capital letters.
Hua Yong narrowed his eyes.
There was no way his friend—so brilliant in business and so hopeless in emotional matters—hadn’t noticed.
But then again,Wenlang had never shown interest in omegas…
and his complete lack of interest had blinded him to the obvious.
And besides… Hua Yong could feel it.
Thanks to his strong enigma abilities, he could trace the omega scent almost erased by layers of powerful suppressors. A cold, faint, carefully hidden trail… but present.
He clicked his tongue, intrigued.
Maybe this was the answer to the questions circling his mind.
An idea began to take shape, soft and mischievous: he finally knew how to thank his friend for years of silent loyalty.
A perfect gift.
A sexy omega ready to stabilize his pheromones before Wenlang self-destructed.
And even better: the gift had double value.
He was his friend’s old crush—the “beta” who had always stirred more emotion than Wenlang dared to admit.
Hua Yong smiled to himself, amused by fate’s irony.
He had no idea how he would get those two stubborn fools together, but that was a problem for another time.
For now, his good mood deserved celebration.
He decided to head home early—cook something delicious, put on some music, maybe open a bottle of wine.
By the time his Alpha arrived, they could enjoy a quiet, romantic, warm night… exactly what he needed to end the day on a high note.
As he walked down the hallway, the smile never left his face.
After all, amid the chaos that always surrounded Wenlang, Hua Yong seemed to be the only one who truly knew how to put the pieces in their place.
And this time, he was determined to fix more than his friend could ever imagine