“Contemporary Medical Knowledge Encyclopedia”: The pheromone active period, also known as the susceptibility phase, refers to a series of physical changes in adult alpha individuals caused by fluctuations in pheromone concentration, often accompanied by neuropsychological symptoms.
—
Liang Xiao, sitting at the edge of the set, quietly studied and whispered to his manager, “Do you think President Huo’s neuropsychological symptoms are more severe?”
The production crew had just ordered a batch of new costumes. Duan Ming had no time to discuss medical theories with him. He dragged Liang Xiao up and measured his waist with a tape. “Where did you get this book?”
“The last time I went up there wearing a mask.” Liang Xiao raised his arms to let him take the measurements. “President Huo had Butler Huo deliver it to me.”
Duan Ming was taken aback. “Why would President Huo send you a book?”
Liang Xiao replied, “He said it gave him a headache when he read it.”
Duan Ming: “…”
—
Since Butler Huo delivered President Huo’s new mandate—”Say another word, and it’ll cost you 100,000 yuan”—a week ago, Liang Xiao had gone up twice. Both times, he wore a mask the entire time.
From the elevator door onward, the atmosphere was meticulously staged. From the butler to the bodyguards, everyone maintained a solemn silence, communicating entirely through glances.
Upon entering, Liang Xiao would immediately spray scent blockers, take a shower, meet President Huo, and then let him bite.
The entire process was so cold and efficient that it felt like a black-market meat inspection.
Duan Ming couldn’t figure out where Liang Xiao had picked up such vivid metaphors. Recalling the frost clinging to the butler recently, he shuddered. “President Huo didn’t make things hard for you, did he?”
Liang Xiao shook his head. “Not at all.”
In fact, President Huo might not have even gotten a clear look at him.
The butler had originally considered giving him a bank-robber-style hood, but it turned out to be too over-the-top. They settled on a mask instead.
For safety, the butler even arranged rehearsals with the bodyguards several times.
Once inside, no matter what President Huo was doing, Liang Xiao would seize the moment, position himself, let President Huo take a bite, and then leave immediately.
Not a second was wasted.
Every time he escorted Liang Xiao out, the butler exuded a sense of dutiful tragedy. “I tried my best…”
Duan Ming knew the butler truly gave it his all, but looking at Huo Lan’s condition, he still worried whether President Huo might impulsively go too far one day. “When will President Huo’s susceptibility phase end?”
Liang Xiao flipped through the encyclopedia and read aloud, “Anywhere from a few days to a month.”
Duan Ming’s hairline seemed to waver under stress.
“Think of the positives,” Liang Xiao reassured him optimistically. He did some mental calculations, patted Duan Ming’s shoulder, and smiled. “We’ve made 399,998 yuan.”
“…” Duan Ming put away the tape and sent him a two-yuan red packet.
As they spoke, Assistant Director Yu Jian, who was responsible for coordinating with them, walked over, grinning. “Liang Xiao, it’s time for your scene.”
Liang Xiao gleefully accepted the red packet, put his phone down, and followed him to the set.
Objectively speaking, just the atmosphere on set could show the quality of the film and TV dramas produced by Xingguan.
The director’s team was coordinating with the lighting and camera crew to set the positions, while the main actors for this scene waited off to the side. The crew moved around in an orderly manner, busy but efficient, making final checks with the script and the set.
Chief Director Song Qi was watching the monitor when someone reminded him. He gave instructions for a few more camera adjustments, then took the script and moved toward the set.
“The situation is grim, and the Jing Group is hosting a cocktail party.”
Song Qi had a habit of speaking the lines himself while directing. This scene was a group scene, more of a depiction of various characters, with no particular difficulty: “Jing Zhe must identify friend from foe at the party, mingle with the guests, and maintain proper distance. There will be close-up shots.”
The tall young man at the center nodded and flipped through the script.
Jing Zhe, the male lead in The Year-End, was the second son of the Jing Group. The role underwent a deep transformation from the beginning to the end, requiring a relatively high level of acting skills. The physical appearance required was also demanding.
After much consideration, Song Qi decided to cast the popular and talented alpha actor Jiang Pingchao, who had been active in the industry for years and was well-regarded for his mature acting skills. Song Qi nodded and didn’t say more: “Jing Ming will hold the reins and stabilize the situation. Cheng Ru will assist, and find opportunities to make eye contact with Jing Zhe. The camera will follow the shot.”
The role of the eldest brother, Jing Ming, was played by the award-winning actor Meng Feibai, who was hailed by the media as the “light of the betas.” The female lead, Cheng Ru, would have a love-hate relationship with Jing Zhe throughout the entire drama, featuring several intense fight scenes. For this, they chose the famous first-tier alpha actress Su Man.
Group scenes are always challenging, but when it comes to the final cut, it’s usually only a few shots. The real difficulty lies in the camera work and post-production editing.
Song Qi briefly explained everything, gestured toward the set, and put away the script.
“Director Song,” the assistant director approached and reminded him quietly as he ticked off each person, “Where’s Liang Xiao?”
Song Qi: “Scamming money.”
Assistant Director: “…”
The people on set couldn’t hold back, and coughing sounds erupted from all sides as everyone turned their heads, trying to suppress their laughter.
Liang Xiao had heard the director refer to him this way for the seventh day in a row, and he was very used to it. He nodded calmly, accepting his shooting notes.
The resources Huo Lan gave him that day were so casually handed out, it could even be called careless. He signed the contract with a flick of his hand, and probably didn’t even look at any sample footage of the roles Liang Xiao had previously worked on.
After all, even he couldn’t find the resources for those shows.
Xingguan was known for its pursuit of perfection. At the time, Liang Xiao was a bit surprised, but now, looking back, he could see that President Huo’s decision was casual, but there was some reasoning behind it.
From the moment he joined the set until now, his only job had been to navigate through various power struggles to scam money. His only requirement was for a role that looked good.
The level of difficulty was so low it didn’t fit in with the rest of the crew at all.
“Liang Xiao.” The assistant director walked over, looking somewhat awkward. “Director Song isn’t targeting you…”
Liang Xiao smiled: “I know.”
Director Song Qi wasn’t targeting him; Director Song was targeting all omegas.
Anyone with even a bit of connection in the industry knew that Song Qi typically made large-scale, serious productions, and when it came to casting, he prioritized betas. Even alphas, if they were too striking in terms of appearance and physique, were often ruthlessly eliminated in the first round.
Most omegas had delicate appearances but were comparatively lacking in strength and build. If it weren’t for the fact that the role created by the scriptwriters was so clearly suited to him, Liang Xiao probably wouldn’t have been cast. The storyline had a main plot, and the character Yun Lian couldn’t overshadow others in the beginning. Before the final twist, his storyline was quite fragmented, flashing through various scenes, with very few lines. The director had little to say to him.
“That’s good.” The assistant director noticed he wasn’t affected and was relieved, cautiously trying to convey a message, “Please send regards to President Huo for us…”
The chief director was always distant and uninvolved, and several assistant directors were very worried. Xingguan was the largest investor in this drama, and the filming for the rest of the project was supposed to be done on location, with fireworks special effects added. The budget was likely to exceed expectations. Sooner or later, they would need to ask President Huo for more money.
The producer had just spent all night calculating the budget with tears, and the assistant director, carrying the burden, had finally squeezed out that line. Seeing Liang Xiao’s troubled expression, the assistant director’s vision darkened: “What’s wrong?”
“…” Liang Xiao felt strangely empathetic, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s fine.”
President Huo might not let him pass along greetings.
President Huo might not even let him speak.
The assistant director anxiously stared at him, about to say something else, when Song Qi had already finished giving instructions to the lead actors, clapped his hands, and signaled for everyone to take their positions. “Action!”
This scene had many extras. The assistant directors communicated with hand signals, directing and coordinating. The lights flared up, casting a dazzling scene of clinking glasses, bustling with noise and excitement.
The lead actors took their positions, and the camera slowly rotated.
“Scene 37, take one, action!”
—
Huo Lan pushed his computer aside and pressed his fingers to his temples.
He was used to working diligently in his office, but now he was stuck in a hotel. Even though it was the presidential suite, working there was still inconvenient.
To make matters worse, his pheromones had been unstable recently.
Handling a couple of scandals wasn’t much of a challenge for Xingguan, but when it involved their president, it was more complicated. This year’s netizens had an inexplicable obsession with gossip about “sugar daddy” relationships.
If Liang Xiao went back to the villa, it was bound to attract unwanted attention and speculation.
During the last work report, the head of the public relations department, along with the entire team, gathered to personally make a bold plea to the vice president: “Please have the president stay in the presidential suite for a few more days…”
Huo Lan leaned back in his chair, pressed his fingers to his temples again, and sighed as he opened his eyes.
He hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days.
Anyone in his situation, who had been leisurely flipping through a few books to ease into sleep, only to have someone burst in without warning, bowing at a ninety-degree angle and waiting for him to bite before rushing out, would probably find it hard to sleep.
…It felt like a machine for soul-shifting, night after night.
Huo Lan held his forehead, massaging his temples, and moved the mouse to open a new document:
The Year-End promotional sample.
After the press conference, there hadn’t been any progress. The footage had been sitting there for almost half a month. It was time for a fresh batch of promotional material to stir up the fans and maintain the buzz.
With the publicity planning department in place, these kinds of sample videos usually didn’t require his personal approval. But this time, being stuck at the filming site, the crew probably thought he was especially invested in the drama and had sent him an additional copy.
The promotional team for the production was also provided by Xingguan, with extensive editing experience. As soon as the video started, majestic background music surged in, accompanied by flashes of swords and shadows.
With less than half of the filming completed, usable footage was limited. The one-minute-plus trailer primarily showcased carefully selected scenes from the lead actors.
With the music and color grading creating an intense and oppressive atmosphere, the transitions between scenes hinted at an impending storm.
Huo Lan watched for a while to confirm the quality met expectations. Just as he was about to exit, the camera transitioned to a fleeting scene featuring Liang Xiao.
Since joining the crew, Liang Xiao’s primary role had been diligently “scamming money.” He had no solo shots, merely playing a supporting role as a wealthy young master. In a scene involving Jiang Pingchao as the protagonist, Jing Zhe, he briefly appeared.
The camera angle came from Jiang Pingchao’s perspective, showing him hurrying through the rain with his hat brim pulled low. Liang Xiao brushed past him, then casually reached out to stop him.
The entire frame seemed to brighten.
Dressed as a refined young master exuding the elegance of Jiangnan, he carried a faint smile on his lips, his eyes warm and gentle, radiating a calm and serene aura.
Stopping the rain-drenched protagonist, he reached out, and handed over a paper umbrella with graceful ease.
…
Huo Lan lingered on the scene for an extra second, only to suddenly recall the moment Liang Xiao, soaking wet, had barged into his office, slammed into his desk, and splashed water all over him.
The memory made his left temple throb all the way to his right. His hand trembled, and he abruptly closed the video.
