PHWM Chapter 23

Liang Xiao didn’t wait for Huo Lan’s reaction.

 

He had spent the whole day thinking about how to say it.

 

Hints, indirect suggestions, asking the butler to pass a message, slipping a note into the second drawer of Huo Lan’s desk.

 

Writing words in the snow outside Huo Lan’s office, climbing up on wires to tap on the window for him to see.

 

…

 

None of those methods were as straightforward as this.

 

But he truly couldn’t hold on anymore.

 

His head was spinning, his strength and focus were drained, and cold sweat broke out across his body in waves.

 

Liang Xiao deliberately avoided thinking about the emergency alert bracelet on his wrist, the suppressant left in the living room, or Huo Lan’s hand steadying him.

 

The rumors that had once seeped into his hospital room, only to be smashed away by his enraged manager, surfaced one by one in his memory.

 

“Ulterior motives,” “brought it on himself,” “schemes gone wrong,” “reaping what he sowed”…

 

He lowered his gaze and tugged at the corners of his mouth, unable to stop himself from wondering which one Huo Lan might believe.

 

Huo Lan: “Hmm.”

 

Liang Xiao: “You should be prepared.”

 

Liang Xiao: “The recent trending topics weren’t simple. Long Tao won’t give up easily. With such an opportunity, they’re likely to—”

 

Liang Xiao paused, stunned for a moment, then looked up at Huo Lan.

 

Huo Lan’s expression punctuated his confusion.

 

Liang Xiao thought he must have misheard. He hesitated for two seconds, rewound, and repeated, “President Huo, I am that omega.”

 

Huo Lan: “…”

 

Huo Lan didn’t really understand why the phrasing was so important, but looking at the swaying figure on the bed, he suppressed his irritation and corrected himself: “I know.”

 

Liang Xiao sat there in a daze for a while, then leaned forward to grab the half cup of water, intending to pour it over his head.

 

Huo Lan frowned deeply and stopped him, raising a hand. “What are you doing?”

 

Caught in a half-dream state where Huo Lan wouldn’t let him wake up and had confiscated his water, Liang Xiao sat blankly for a moment, then instinctively reached up to feel his own forehead.

 

He was practically boiling.

 

Seeing Liang Xiao fumble ineffectively for a while, Huo Lan reached out to steady him just as Liang Xiao, dizzy and unsteady, tried to climb out of bed.

 

Huo Lan caught him just in time, placed him back onto the bed, and pulled the crumpled blanket over him.

 

Liang Xiao had barely finished his little escapade and lay there panting, his vision swimming. Wrapped tightly in the blanket, he muttered, “President Huo.”

 

Huo Lan called for his private doctor. “Hmm.”

 

Liang Xiao heard his second “hmm.” His scattered thoughts took a spin around how approachable Huo Lan sounded and eventually circled back. “You… read my medical record?”

 

His question was disjointed. Huo Lan considered it for a moment before replying, “Sort of.”

 

The signs had been there earlier.

 

Long Tao had kept a tight lid on everything, rarely letting anything slip over the years. But their overreach into trending topics finally left some traces.

 

Then there was Liang Xiao’s unusually confidential contract.

 

The secrecy had always been suspicious, making it seem like an overcompensating cover-up.

 

Liang Xiao could now feel himself burning up, every breath scorching. He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to piece things together. “And… Deputy Director Peng just happened to go talk to you…”

 

Huo Lan nodded and tucked another pillow under Liang Xiao’s neck and shoulders.

 

Liang Xiao was utterly bewildered.

 

He couldn’t fathom what kind of determination it took for Huo Lan to leave the company, put his work aside, and travel all this way incognito after discovering Liang Xiao’s true identity.

 

…Just to interrogate him about an innocent and adorable emoji.

 

Liang Xiao didn’t dare ask, afraid it might remind Huo Lan of that incident again. “You… don’t have anything you’d like to say to me?”

 

Huo Lan sent another message urging the doctor to hurry, then pressed a hand to Liang Xiao’s forehead. “Say what?”

 

Liang Xiao opened his mouth but couldn’t find the words.

 

Huo Lan seemed to have released some pheromones. The cool, crisp sensation of snow and ice settled on Liang Xiao’s fevered forehead, momentarily suppressing the burning heat and making him feel significantly better.

 

Liang Xiao’s eyes stung painfully, but the coolness of Huo Lan’s palm eased the sharp prick, leaving behind a faint, bittersweet ache.

 

“Ask me…” Liang Xiao couldn’t understand why, even in his current state, he still felt compelled to come up with lines for Huo Lan. “Why I came back, if there’s some new scheme, or if I’m plotting with Long Tao again to target Xingguan…”

 

Huo Lan’s hand, which had been soothing his fever, paused mid-motion.

 

Liang Xiao closed his eyes, forcing down the inappropriate drowsiness brought on by the comfort of the cool touch.

 

This should’ve been the scene where you explain, I don’t listen, I explain, you don’t listen.

 

The weight on his chest still lingered, yet somehow, he felt a strange sense of ease.

 

“Plotting with Long Tao,” Huo Lan echoed, picking one phrase. “To target Xingguan.”

 

Liang Xiao hummed in acknowledgment.

 

Huo Lan: “By trying to infuriate me to death?”

 

Liang Xiao: “…”

 

Well, yes, but also no.

 

Liang Xiao had no idea how to argue against that, so he coughed lightly and said, “President Ho, I really can’t continue this conversation if you’re like this.”

 

Huo Lan didn’t say anything, remaining silent for a while before moving his hand away.

 

Liang Xiao opened one eye, glancing at President Huo, whose eyebrows and eyes seemed not so angry.

 

Huo Lan: “Liang Xiao.”

 

Liang Xiao was not often called by his name; when he was occasionally addressed, it was usually as Mr. Liang. He shivered in response: “Yes.”

 

Huo Lan pressed his forehead: “Go to sleep.”

 

With everything that needed to be said left unclear, Liang Xiao felt uneasy. He thought that even with a fever of forty-two degrees, he probably wouldn’t be able to sleep: “President Huo.”

 

Huo Lan: “…”

 

Enduring the discomfort, Huo Lan adjusted his posture and placed his hand beneath Liang Xiao’s head as a makeshift pillow.

 

When the private doctor and Butler Huo arrived, the patient was sound asleep, resting on President Huo’s hand.

 

“Thirty-eight degrees.”

 

The doctor put away the thermometer: “Some exhaustion… mainly old ailments.”

 

He had looked over Liang Xiao’s medical history on the way here and heard from the butler that this was the omega with a very high compatibility with President Huo. He immediately read through it again without missing a word.

 

Liang Xiao was actually recovering quite well; as long as he paid attention to rest and warmth, there wouldn’t be any major issues. However, he had been severely injured before, and after two accidents, his glands were almost half incapacitated. Over the years, he had been in recovery according to treatment plans, but changes in weather were always difficult to endure.

 

“It’s better not to give medication,” the doctor said. “Physical cooling will be fine; once the fever goes down, there won’t be any problems.”

 

Duan Ming had been anxiously pacing for over eighty circles and immediately went to fetch cool water and a towel upon hearing this.

 

The butler had arranged to meet Liang Xiao in the evening but turned around to see him fainting from the fever. Feeling guilty, he didn’t even have time to ask how President Huo ended up in this situation and rushed over to help: “Mr. Duan, I also—”

 

Before the butler could finish speaking, he watched as President Huo remained calm and steady like a mountain, while the thermometer on the wall behind them trembled and dropped by half a degree.

 

Butler: “…”

 

Duan Ming: “…”

 

“Temporary marking.” Huo Lan confirmed while physically cooling him down. “Will it have any effects?”

 

“On the health of the omega?”

 

The doctor, experienced and knowledgeable, calmly reviewed the medical records: “If it were an ordinary omega, fluctuations in pheromone levels could lead to some physical reactions. However, Mr. Liang’s pheromone levels have always been at their lowest limit, so there is almost no impact.”

 

Huo Lan nodded slightly and leaned back with his eyes closed.

 

The butler felt both tense and confused about the situation in front of him. He pulled Duan Ming aside and whispered to exchange information: “…What’s going on?”

 

“I don’t know,” Duan Ming said with a headache.

 

“You just left; as soon as I opened the door, it was President Huo.”

 

Huo Lan was holding Liang Xiao with one hand while trying to find a bedroom in the house; at that moment, things had already started to get out of control.

 

Duan Ming hid in the kitchen for half the day, mustering the courage to quietly listen at the bedroom door for a while. Hearing nothing, he finally left.

 

He knew Liang Xiao had something to say to Huo Lan, and even as the manager, he understood this wasn’t an occasion where he should be present. So, he tiptoed out of the apartment and ended up squatting by the flowerbeds with the bewildered assistant, who’d been locked out as well, until it was completely dark.

 

Not long after, they saw Butler Huo rushing upstairs with Huo Lan’s private doctor in tow.

 

Terrified, Duan Ming dashed upstairs, only to learn that Liang Xiao was experiencing his usual condition. However, this time, his emotional turmoil, combined with exhaustion from running back and forth, had made the fever particularly severe.

 

Cursing his own overactive imagination, Duan Ming glanced at the young assistant and felt too embarrassed to admit the wild assumptions that had scared him earlier. He unscrewed a bottle of water and vaguely explained, “…It’s probably just that.”

 

When the butler arrived, he had already overheard Duan Ming explaining the situation with Long Tao and had pieced together the tangled web of grievances and emotions. After hearing the full story, he heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, thank goodness—it wasn’t that Mr. Huo, overwhelmed by betrayal and anger, accidentally harmed Mr. Liang…”

 

Duan Ming spat out a mouthful of water onto the assistant’s face.

 

The butler was alarmed. “??”

 

“…It’s nothing,” Duan Ming said, utterly drained. “Blame my overworked heart.”

 

Liang Xiao woke up from his fever near midnight.

 

This time, his fever was unusually severe, dragging him through one hazy dream after another. One moment, he was trembling in the suffocating tension of Long Tao’s lounge, and the next, he was back in his youth, consumed by the burning heat of his glands.

 

Then, a cool sensation enveloped him, soothing him inch by inch until he drifted into rare comfort and tranquility.

 

When Liang Xiao opened his eyes and blinked twice, something felt off. He turned over.

 

Huo Lan was still sitting by the bed.

 

Not only was he still there, but Liang Xiao had somehow ended up resting his head on Huo Lan’s proper and respectable hand, clutching Huo Lan’s proper and respectable arm.

 

Liang Xiao was so startled by his own audacity that he froze. “…”

 

Huo Lan had given up half his arm to him. Due to his towering height and impeccable proportions, he had to awkwardly sit on the floor with his back against the bed, where he’d fallen asleep soundly.

 

The bedside lamp cast a soft light over Huo Lan’s sharp, indifferent features.

 

Liang Xiao’s heart raced as he sat still for a long while, tempted to piece together the plot he had missed. He tried to get up.

 

Having burned with fever most of the night, his body was weak. After struggling through a bout of dizziness, he managed to kneel on the bed but caused enough disturbance to wake Huo Lan.

 

Liang Xiao knelt unsteadily on the bed, his vision going dark, just as President Huo slowly opened his eyes.

 

…

 

Huo Lan clearly didn’t fully grasp the situation yet. After a moment of silence, he said, “No need to be so formal.”

 

Liang Xiao: “…”

 

Liang Xiao let go of his grip and collapsed face-first onto the bed with a loud thud.

 

Huo Lan, with his far superior physical fitness, pushed himself up effortlessly with one hand. Despite having slept on the floor half the night, he showed no signs of discomfort as he stood with ease.

 

Liang Xiao lay sprawled on the bed like a lifeless salted fish. Without much reaction, he allowed President Huo to flip him over single-handedly, check his forehead temperature, and remarked with a complex expression, “President Huo…”

 

Huo Lan adjusted the pillows and propped him up by the headboard. “What is it?”

 

“…Nothing,” Liang Xiao replied, utterly dejected. “Forget it.”

 

Huo Lan pulled the blanket over him, his gaze lingering on Liang Xiao as his brows furrowed slightly.

 

Before Liang Xiao had burned into unconsciousness, he’d wanted to speak with Huo Lan. But as the fever muddled his thoughts, he’d become delirious, mumbling incoherently about making him choose between four idioms: hidden motives, self-inflicted consequences, failed schemes, and clumsy blunders.

 

Huo Lan had wanted to correct him that “failed schemes” wasn’t actually an idiom, but reasoning with someone out of their senses was futile. He’d let it go at the time, but it still nagged at him now.

 

Liang Xiao leaned against the headboard.

 

Still brooding over how easily Huo Lan had flipped him over with one hand, he slumped against a row of soft pillows. The warm yellow light bathed him in a quiet, melancholic glow, making him appear calm yet desolate.

 

Huo Lan observed him for a while before speaking. “Liang Xiao.”

 

Liang Xiao snapped back to attention. “Present.”

 

“….” Huo Lan pressed his fingers to his forehead and said, “Back then, you asked me.”

 

He paused briefly, then continued calmly, “I did have something to say to you.”

 

Liang Xiao froze.

 

“Five years ago,” Huo Lan said, “not investigating further was my failure.”

 

At the time, he had only recently taken over Xingguan and was unfamiliar with the complex, murky rules of the entertainment industry.

 

He knew that Long Tao’s plot had failed and that the Omega they had tried to use against him had ended up hospitalized.

 

Back then, Huo Lan faced both internal and external crises. Surrounded by countless scheming individuals, there was no shortage of conspiracies targeting him. What Long Tao had attempted was only one among many.

 

Long Tao’s misstep had backfired, and Xingguan could easily recover its losses elsewhere. Huo Lan had chosen to spare that Omega, opting not to pursue the matter further.

 

When he and Liang Xiao terminated their contract, he had never considered leveraging his authority to make things difficult for anyone. It never occurred to him that Long Tao would relentlessly and systematically suppress Liang Xiao for five years.

 

Liang Xiao hadn’t expected Huo Lan to bring this up. He was stunned for a moment before chuckling lightly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“I chose this path myself.”

 

Liang Xiao hadn’t expected Huo Lan to believe him. Now, with the deep night enveloping them and the warm, gentle light softening the atmosphere, he couldn’t help but say a bit more. “Long Tao’s actions against me were my own problem to deal with.”

 

Back then, Huo Lan had chosen to let it go, and Xingguan had already done its utmost.

 

The path was one Liang Xiao had chosen himself. He had walked it for five years without regret and had no desire for an apology from Huo Lan.

 

Huo Lan, however, was clear and firm in his reasoning. Shaking his head, he said, “I owe you something.”

 

“You don’t owe me anything,” Liang Xiao replied with a smile. “I didn’t even know it was you back then.”

 

At 18, Huo Lan had taken charge of the Huo family, decisive and accustomed to having his way. He didn’t intend to argue as he stepped forward.

 

“This isn’t appropriate,” Liang Xiao interrupted politely. “No need for a check—you’ve already given me enough…”

 

Huo Lan: “…”

 

Liang Xiao: “…”

 

Liang Xiao blinked, realizing President Huo hadn’t even taken out a check. He opened his mouth, coughed lightly, and looked away.

 

Huo Lan lowered his gaze and, for a brief moment, smiled faintly.

 

When he smiled like this, his usual cold indifference seemed to dissipate entirely. The imposing aura of his position softened, leaving him looking unusually tranquil.

 

Liang Xiao was momentarily dazed, watching as Huo Lan turned, retrieved a check from his briefcase, signed it on the spot, and handed it to him.

 

“…” Liang Xiao felt so embarrassed he could have jumped out of the window right then. “There’s really no need.”

 

He took a deep breath, his composure steady and dignified. “The choice I made back then was for my own integrity. Your gratitude is unnecessary and misplaced.”

 

Huo Lan noticed the hand Liang Xiao had firmly tucked behind his back. After a brief pause, he nodded cooperatively and put the check away.

 

Relieved, Liang Xiao finally let his guard down. His curiosity surged, bubbling up uncontrollably.

 

Huo Lan hadn’t intended to offer him monetary compensation anyway. With Long Tao holding his contract tightly, it wasn’t feasible to transfer him directly to Xingguan. What Huo Lan had just mentioned—owing him something—suddenly felt layered with intrigue and suspense.

 

“So,” Liang Xiao couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer, “what do you owe me?”

 

Huo Lan placed the check back into his briefcase, set it aside, and stood. He walked back toward Liang Xiao.

 

Liang Xiao blinked, watching as Huo Lan stopped right in front of him.

 

With his impeccable proportions and commanding presence framed by the light, Huo Lan stood silently for a moment before leaning down, chest and shoulders inclining forward. He reached out and gently pulled Liang Xiao into an embrace.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Huo Lan added softly, “You’ve worked hard.”

 

The gentle strength of the hug caught Liang Xiao completely off guard. He shivered slightly, stunned.

 

He wanted to smile, but before his lips could curl up, he hastily grabbed Huo Lan’s shirt, lowered his head, and closed his eyes.

 

 

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