The breakfast cart owner had been operating in this area for years and had built a stable customer base. Business remained brisk as always.
Liang Xiao moved efficiently and skillfully attracted customers. The steady stream of people kept coming and going, and the sound of payments being processed barely stopped all morning.
During the mid-morning break, the director and crew tallied up the sales, and the net income had already reached a significant amount.
“You were right,” Duan Ming admitted. Initially worried that buying too many raw materials might lead to waste, he now regretted not purchasing more. “We should’ve stocked up more.”
Liang Xiao, however, was content. “This is enough.”
The breakfast cart had limited capacity for handling ingredients, but its strength lay in its convenience and speed, perfectly catering to the needs of people heading to work or school. By noon, there wouldn’t be much demand for these items anymore.
“The footage is sufficient too,” the director said after reviewing everything, feeling quite satisfied. “Mr. Liang has a great on-camera presence.”
The raw footage had already been uploaded to the monitors. The director selected a few key moments and froze the frames. “These shots without background distractions—perfect pacing and angles—could easily go viral as ‘a man washing his hands to make soup.’”
The cameraman sighed sincerely. “As long as I don’t film it, no one will know Mr. Liang was actually making scallion pancakes.”
Everyone burst into laughter as they wrapped up the day’s filming successfully, exchanged words of appreciation for their hard work, and went their separate ways.
Having woken up early and maintained composure in front of the camera all morning, Liang Xiao couldn’t help but yawn once he returned to the nanny van provided by the production team.
The assistant couldn’t stand anymore and had already taken two naps that morning, was slumped in a corner where Duan Ming had stuffed him, too groggy to even open his eyes. “Making money is so hard…”
“Go back to sleep,” Duan Ming said, wrapping him snugly in a blanket before turning his attention to Liang Xiao. “Let’s head back to the hotel so you can get some rest.”
Liang Xiao nodded. “Brother Duan, you all should take a break too.”
Duan Ming agreed with a nod but gave him another look.
Feeling uneasy under his gaze, Liang Xiao asked, “Brother Duan?”
“No beating around the bush,” Duan Ming said directly as he looked at him. “What exactly happened back then?”
Liang Xiao froze for a moment before realizing what he was referring to. Smiling faintly, he replied, “It really wasn’t anything…”
Duan Ming frowned deeply.
Although Liang Xiao wasn’t forthcoming, Duan Ming later managed to bribe the director with grilled sausages and gleaned some additional information.
High-dose synthetic Omega pheromone therapy for glandular closure had become quite advanced in recent years. However, several years ago, when synthetic pheromone research was still underdeveloped, treating this condition was much more challenging.
“Back then, our understanding of glandular closure was also limited,” the director explained. He had learned quite a bit while preparing to document the breakfast cart owner’s family for follow-up filming. “Their son couldn’t even get an accurate diagnosis for a long time because of this.”
The director explained, “He was stuck, unable to differentiate, with the body of a 15- or 16-year-old. His height, strength, and explosiveness couldn’t keep up. He kept getting sick and running fevers. It was clear he was about to be surpassed by teammates who had once been far behind him.”
The assistant had been so anxious while hearing this that they couldn’t help but ask what would happen if it dragged on until the critical moment.
The director, flipping through the files, said, “If an alpha fails to differentiate in time, their body suffers. If it drags on too long, they can develop persistent high fevers that might even become life-threatening.”
“Maybe I’m overthinking,” Duan Ming asked, “but was that why you did it back then?”
Liang Xiao was a bit taken aback. “Brother Duan, your instincts are truly extraordinary…”
“No kidding,” Duan Ming replied. “Aside from that, the only other explanation for tying someone up during your pheromone outburst would be that you’ve got a screw loose.”
Liang Xiao: “…”
Duan Ming hadn’t initially thought of it either. It wasn’t until he reviewed the materials the director brought over that he discovered that during high-dose pheromone shock treatment, patients could opt for general anesthesia or physical restraint.
He really didn’t want to dwell on it.
…
But the term “physical restraint” was so glaringly understated that it almost begged further scrutiny.
“This isn’t something you can’t talk about,” Duan Ming said, perplexed. “You’re a blank slate right now. If you want to climb higher, you need to lay your past bare.”
For someone like Liang Xiao, whose record clearly listed post-pheromone outburst complications, not explaining it himself would only give marketing accounts the freedom to spin a hundred and eighty supposed “exclusive truths.”
“If we don’t uncover it ourselves, we’ll still have to respond eventually,” Duan Ming reminded him. “Whatever comes from us must be the truth. We can’t have another situation like last time, brushing it off with some nonsense about self-study…”
Liang Xiao chuckled. “It is the truth.”
Duan Ming froze for a moment.
“Brother Duan,” Liang Xiao leaned back. “The reason I don’t like bringing it up is because I made a mistake back then.”
Duan Ming grew apprehensive. “Did you bite someone?”
“…No,” Liang Xiao replied.
He grabbed his phone, quickly found the folder where his confiscated files were stored, and swiftly deleted the contraband his manager had collected.
“During that time…” Liang Xiao admitted, “I deceived someone.”
Duan Ming frowned. “What did you lie about?”
“Everything,” Liang Xiao said.
Liang Xiao chuckled. “I lied to him, saying I came from a wealthy family, that I was forced to attend their school by my parents, that I didn’t wear the uniform because I had a free-spirited personality, and that I didn’t bother with a meal card because the cafeteria food was too awful…”
It was an elite school catering to the upper class. Compared to regular public high schools, it was much easier to blend into such a relaxed environment.
Young Liang Xiao had attended school sporadically over the years but understood vaguely that if he didn’t want to keep drifting aimlessly through life, this was a path he had to take.
Public high schools had strict rules—curfews, fixed classrooms, and rigid regulations. He had tried sneaking into a few but failed every time.
However, this private academy, which didn’t focus on elite education, was far more lenient. Students often skipped classes, and teachers sometimes couldn’t even recognize all their students by the end of the year.
Young Liang Xiao wandered through various classes for a month without anyone noticing.
And he even managed to find an especially gullible “golden goose.”
Liang Xiao hadn’t thought about this incident for a long time. He rubbed his forehead and smiled faintly. “He was an undifferentiated alpha, about my height, quite thin, wore glasses…”
Before differentiation, alphas didn’t exhibit explosive physical strength. Among kids in their early teens, it was hard to tell them apart.
Liang Xiao, who had never won a fight in his life, was particularly proud of this one victory. He couldn’t help reminiscing about his moment of glory. “Back then, I could take him down with one hand.”
“…” Duan Ming didn’t have the heart to shatter his illusion. He nudged the assistant awake, and together they gave him a round of applause.
Liang Xiao gestured modestly with both hands, maintaining an air of dignity. “Thank you, thank you—”
Duan Ming grabbed him with one hand, shoved him back into his seat, and pulled a blanket over him. “And then?”
Liang Xiao: “…”
Liang Xiao sobered up. “And then he believed me.”
At the time, young Liang Xiao had never encountered someone so easy to fool. He even felt a bit guilty about it, so he tried to be as accommodating as possible when dealing with the other party.
Liang Xiao didn’t want to relive the nightmare. He closed his eyes. “And then… he took me home.”
Duan Ming was on edge. “What did he do?”
“He made me do homework,” Liang Xiao said in despair. “Three hours a day.”
Duan Ming choked, staring at him in disbelief.
“After I finished, he personally graded it and explained everything I got wrong.”
Liang Xiao had never fallen into such a terrifying trap in his life. “If I couldn’t memorize the text, he made me copy the textbook. Every morning, the first thing I said was, ‘The face is gone; I know not where.’”
Duan Ming: “…”
Liang Xiao: “Every time we met, the first thing he’d say was, ‘The peach blossoms still smile in the spring breeze.'”
Duan Ming couldn’t listen anymore: “What kind of karma did you accumulate?”
Liang Xiao also didn’t know what he had done to deserve it: “The sun sets behind the mountains, I dive into the clear pond; to see a thousand miles ahead, I hang myself on the southeast branch…”
Duan Ming reminded him: “You’re mixing them up.”
Liang Xiao, eyes dull: “I’m talking about myself.”
“…” Duan Ming was at a loss for words. He patted Liang Xiao on the shoulder and, after a long pause, said, “You’ve had it rough.”
“It was too rough.” Liang Xiao sighed. “If I didn’t have to rely on his meal card to survive, I would’ve drawn glasses on his face with a pen in the middle of the night.”
But back then, young Liang Xiao had a soft heart.
He had never met someone so gullible before. If he said he lost his uniform, the other boy would lend him one. If he said he didn’t carry a meal card because he was too lazy to eat, the boy would buy him food every day and make sure he ate it.
Apart from forcing him to study every day, the boy never did anything excessive.
One night, when he saw Liang Xiao banging his head against the wall, he even secretly bought walnuts for him, saying they were good for his brain.
Duan Ming was speechless: “…Alright.”
Duan Ming: “And then? Did you find out he had the same condition as you?”
Liang Xiao shook his head: “Not back then. I didn’t stay at his house often.”
At the time, young Liang Xiao still had to avoid the con artist gang he was involved with. He couldn’t let them find out he wasn’t scamming money as they demanded, or they’d threaten him again.
Young Liang Xiao was determined, gritting his teeth while secretly juggling three jobs—working at a breakfast shop in the morning and handling other tasks in the afternoon and evening.
Luckily, the two of them weren’t in the same grade, and the other boy wasn’t the type to dig too deeply. Liang Xiao managed to get by, stacking one lie on top of another.
But eventually, his lies unraveled.
The gang he was involved with noticed something was off and forced him to scam a significant amount from this “golden goose,” or else they’d make him pay.
Of course, his fabricated identity would also be completely exposed.
“I was planning to run away that day.”
Liang Xiao smirked bitterly: “But for some reason, I remembered I hadn’t corrected a mistake in my homework.”
Duan Ming: “Did you manage to shake them off completely?”
Liang Xiao nodded: “I wasn’t entirely unprepared.”
Young Liang Xiao had always been thinking about escaping—where to go, how to hide, how to survive afterward. He had planned it all out.
And he had prepared everything he needed.
That day, halfway through his run, he just couldn’t stop worrying about that question. He decided to sneak back in the middle of the night to make some changes, only to find the other person burning up with a fever so high that he’d passed out.
“He always locked himself in his room. I didn’t realize it was because of this.”
Liang Xiao sighed deeply, full of regret. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to call 110, 120, or even 119 back then.”
“You were even capable of making calls back then?” Duan Ming’s heart ached for him. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Besides, according to what the director said, treatments for this condition weren’t very advanced back then. The mortality rate in critical stages was extremely high.”
Duan Ming added, “If you had called 119 and just left, he might not have survived.”
Liang Xiao felt slightly comforted. “True.”
Duan Ming pressed on, “So, you tied him up?”
“…That was the final step,” Liang Xiao admitted. “At the time, I was on the verge of my own differentiation.”
Both Omegas and Alphas show warning signs before differentiation, and young Liang Xiao had been preparing, calculating the timing carefully.
Proper use of inducers revolves around one key principle: assisting young Omegas in completing their differentiation process.
At that time, Liang Xiao had just applied for free inducers and suppressants. He knew that as long as he found a safe place to use them, he could differentiate smoothly and without incident.
But the situation called for drastic measures.
Although the other person strictly controlled his TV time, Liang Xiao had managed to watch quite a few programs by cooling the TV with a spray of water from a fan.
From what he’d seen on TV, as long as it was an Alpha, their glands would naturally resonate with an Omega’s pheromones.
Young Liang Xiao covered his eyes modestly, unaware of the specifics of this resonance. However, guided by his sharp instincts, he felt it was necessary to tie the other person up first.
Duan Ming mercilessly exposed him: “You were sneaking peeks at adult content on his TV.”
“…” Liang Xiao: “Yes.”
When Duan Ming had first started questioning him, he’d been full of concern. Now, he was completely numb, rubbing his forehead. “Alright… what happened next?”
Liang Xiao cleared his throat.
…Relying on his already extensive knowledge at the time, young Liang Xiao decided to tie the person up first.
The other person was feverish and sluggish, much less combative than usual. It took a lot of effort, but Liang Xiao managed to tie him securely and then used the inducer on himself.
An Omega’s initial differentiation, without the comfort of an Alpha or the use of suppressants, would not naturally stabilize their glands.
It was young Liang Xiao’s first time experiencing it. At first, he could endure it, but it became increasingly unbearable.
And to make matters worse, the other person’s glands were as unresponsive as a stone sinking into the ocean.
Young Liang Xiao didn’t dare pass out, nor did he dare stop moving. Clutching the inducer in his trembling hand, he found an activity that could both vent his frustration and keep him awake: taking revenge on the oppressive stack of reference books. He tore into them viciously.
By the time dawn broke, the terrifying fever on the other person’s body had finally subsided completely.
By then, young Liang Xiao was already dazed. He loosened the ropes tying the other person, didn’t even bother to check what kind of pheromones he had induced, hastily packed his things, and scrambled out the window to escape.
“And then…” Duan Ming frowned deeply. “You never saw him again?”
Liang Xiao shook his head. “Never saw him again. I didn’t even ask for his name. Back then, I was all about playing it cool. I’d just make up nicknames on the spot, calling him whatever came to mind to vent my anger.”
Duan Ming was exasperated. “Don’t give me that nonsense. How could that be possible—”
Liang Xiao tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Brother Duan.”
Duan Ming froze, stopping mid-sentence.
“I really didn’t ask.”
Liang Xiao smiled faintly. “I’m a liar.”
Duan Ming was stunned, his pupils contracting slightly as he hurriedly said, “What are you saying? How can you blame yourself? You—”
“I had my reasons, but those reasons are mine, not his.”
Liang Xiao said, “I lied to him. That’s a fact. You don’t know how badly he wanted to become the top scorer…”
Even though he was feverish every few days and barely had enough time for his own studies, he still found time, day after day, to tutor Liang Xiao, explaining the most basic concepts over and over again.
Duan Ming looked at him, his chest rising and falling.
“Brother Duan, I’m telling you my perspective.”
Liang Xiao continued, “Now let me tell you his perspective.”
“He made a friend, brought that friend home, carved out time to tutor him, and supervised his meals every day.”
“And then, one day, he woke up,” Liang Xiao said softly. “And that friend was gone.”
“At the time…” Liang Xiao took a deep breath, smiling faintly. “I just wanted to scam him for a meal card.”
