Liang Xiao rubbed his neck, not thinking much of it, and excitedly went out to find his assistant to purchase supplies needed for the next day.
Over the next few days, business at the breakfast cart was exceptionally brisk.
With the show covering the costs, Liang Xiao’s no-investment business thrived. After four days of saving, he had nearly enough money for the planned pajama purchase.
“Is it a gift?” The director, who had become familiar with him over these days, asked curiously, “For a friend? Family?”
Liang Xiao, scrolling through the online shopping site, smiled and gave a vague affirmative response.
The director helped look: “This one’s not expensive, but comfortable to wear.”
Liang Xiao was already looking at it and added it to the cart: “Does it cause static electricity?”
“It does,” the director nodded, “Especially if two people wear this type, you’ll turn into glowing light balls in the dark.”
Liang Xiao: “…”
The director, seeing him quickly delete the item from the cart, couldn’t help but laugh: “There are a few brands, I’ll ask around for you later.”
Liang Xiao looked up with a smile: “Thanks.”
The director waved it off, committed to helping, and took out his phone to send a few group messages.
As someone else came to buy breakfast, Liang Xiao responded and put down his phone to prepare. Suddenly, without warning, his vision went dark for a moment, and he swayed before steadying himself.
Duan Ming rushed over to support him: “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Liang Xiao recovered, his vision clearing, “Just a bit dizzy… I’m fine now.”
Duan Ming, worried, frowned as he looked at him.
Liang Xiao pressed his arm reassuringly, walked to the window, heated and packed the requested breakfast, and handed it out.
“Sit down and rest a bit.”
The director was also startled and quickly came over: “Today’s the last day, and we’ve gathered enough material… You came directly here after wrapping up, right? It must have been exhausting.”
Xingguan had sent an official letter explaining the situation, so the director was roughly aware of the accident that delayed the crew’s wrap-up by three days. He felt a bit guilty: “We should have discussed and staggered the schedule a bit.”
Liang Xiao just had a momentary dizzy spell and didn’t want to make such a big fuss. He smiled: “Really, it’s nothing.”
“Everyone’s been working hard too,” Liang Xiao said sincerely, “Thank you all for putting up with me these days.”
The director waved it off repeatedly and went to contact the production team to call for a car.
Duan Ming helped him sit down, his face extremely grim: “When did this start?”
Liang Xiao coughed lightly: “Yesterday…”
He glanced at Duan Ming and corrected himself: “The day before yesterday.”
Duan Ming, guessing that if he asked again it might turn into two and a half days ago or two and three-quarters days ago, sighed heavily: “You didn’t take it seriously again, did you?”
Liang Xiao, rarely seeing him so reasonable, quickly nodded: “Yes.”
Although he had been feeling unwell these past few days, it wasn’t particularly noticeable, just a vague fatigue emanating from his bones. It was different from the usual intense onset when he’d overworked and caught a cold.
Liang Xiao had been carefully monitoring himself for a day and a half, but when he didn’t notice anything unusual, he let his guard down.
He was used to feeling unwell, and this time it really wasn’t serious, so he didn’t think much of it.
“Get a physical in a couple of days,” Duan Ming said, still worried. “For tonight’s flight, sleep at the hotel first, and Xiao Gong and I will take you to the airport.”
Liang Xiao didn’t want to worry them, so he nodded in agreement: “Okay.”
The director had also contacted the crew’s van and hurriedly came over, arranging for staff to wrap things up.
On the last day, they were already nearing the end of filming. All the useful footage had been collected, and they could proceed with editing.
The director saw them off to the car, specifically instructing: “Xingguan has a comprehensive process, so remote follow-up procedures will work just as well.”
Liang Xiao didn’t immediately get in the car, making a point to thank everyone from the show, and expressed regret about the breakfast cart he was about to hand over: “I had originally wanted to treat everyone to a proper meal.”
“Hasn’t this been a treat already? We’ve been eating your breakfast for so many days, if we eat any more, our assistants might switch jobs.”
The director joked with him: “Alright, go back and rest well. It’s been a pleasure working with you.”
Liang Xiao smiled, shook hands with everyone, and got into the car.
…
Perhaps because filming had finally ended and the tension had completely relaxed, when Liang Xiao lay down at the hotel, the hidden ailment in his body finally erupted in full force.
Just before lying down, he had still been ordering pajamas and joking with his assistant about missing the flight and running back to the capital with the breakfast cart.
Duan Ming, worried, went to check on him after five minutes, only to find him unresponsive with a high fever.
The assistant nearly collapsed on the spot, but Duan Ming grabbed him and threw him out, then called for emergency services.
The crew immediately contacted the hospital, and they rushed him there at breakneck speed for a comprehensive examination.
…
Liang Xiao opened his eyes, looking at the room full of beeping instruments, feeling a bit dazed.
“You’re awake?” Duan Ming leaned by the bed, physically and mentally exhausted. “A few more times like this, and one of us is bound to die an untimely death.”
Liang Xiao, moved to tears, choked up: “Brother Duan…”
“If you don’t scare me to death,” Duan Ming said coldly, “I might just throw you out the window myself.”
Liang Xiao: “…”
Duan Ming took a deep breath, rubbed his face to compose himself: “Alright, this time it’s really not your fault.”
Liang Xiao’s condition was too unique. He had been using suppressants for years, with his pheromones showing no fluctuations at all. If not for his gland, sometimes even he forgot he was an omega.
Not just Liang Xiao, but Duan Ming and the others hadn’t realized the most obvious indication of an omega’s physical discomfort.
“…” Liang Xiao was bewildered, “I have a heat cycle too?”
“Just now in the emergency room, half the corridor thought it was raining.”
Duan Ming: “Three of the doctors who came to treat you are now using Valu to treat themselves.”
Liang Xiao felt a bit dazed and pressed his forehead.
Duan Ming, experiencing his pheromones for the first time, couldn’t help but ask: “How can there be a rain pheromone? Is it that rare?”
“Not rare,” Liang Xiao thought for a moment, “It’s a special natural type, a special category and attribute.”
Liang Xiao: “There are at least three types of pheromones in my category.”
Duan Ming: “…”
Liang Xiao was still using suppressants, and although it was his first accidental heat in over a decade, it didn’t cause too much damage.
It was just that the suppressants had been too strict, and unlike on set, there was no alpha for temporary marking or periodic, moderate extraction of pheromone sources.
The pheromones had been suppressed for days and rebelled dramatically inside Liang Xiao’s body.
The hospital promptly guided out some of the pheromones, and once the rest stabilized, the problem was no longer serious.
Duan Ming, having had a false alarm, now relaxed and chatted casually with him: “Don’t all pheromones have names? What’s yours called…”
Liang Xiao thought for a moment: “Grass color.”
Duan Ming was surprised: “Isn’t it rain?”
“The light rain on the street is soft as butter, the color of grass seems far but disappears up close[mfn]From a famous Chinese poem by Du Fu (杜甫), a renowned poet from the Tang Dynasty. The original Chinese verse is “天街小雨润如酥，草色遥看近却无.”[/mfn].”
Liang Xiao patted him: “Brother Duan, recite and write it from memory.”
“…” Duan Ming picked up a pillow, stuffed it into his arms, and got up to pour him some water.
Liang Xiao hugged the pillow, turned over on the bed, and looked at the darkening sky outside the window for a while before suddenly coming to his senses.
The afternoon flight.
Liang Xiao felt a bit anxious and tried to get up, supporting himself with his arm.
“What are you doing?” Duan Ming, holding a glass of water, quickly grabbed his collar, “You can’t move today.”
Liang Xiao: “Why?”
“The doctor said your pheromones are stabilizing, but because of the suppressants, your heat hasn’t ended,” Duan Ming put him back on the bed. “An omega’s first heat can last anywhere from a few days to a month.”
Most omegas experience their first spontaneous heat after coming of age. Liang Xiao’s gland had been severely injured twice, which is why it took until now.
Liang Xiao’s situation was special. Even during heat, his pheromones must remain stable, requiring strong suppression.
Every gain comes with a loss; intense fatigue and weakness were unavoidable.
Liang Xiao listened for a while, incredulous: “I can’t move?”
“Try it,” Duan Ming said. “You might make it to the floor beside the bed.”
Liang Xiao, unwilling to give up, tried his best to prop himself up on his arms, but ended up dizzy and collapsed onto Duan Ming’s shoulder.
“Bear with it,” Duan Ming caught him in time. “You really can’t move. At this stage, you’re even weaker than a typical omega.”
Liang Xiao’s hands trembled slightly: “Other people’s heat is a heat, but my heat means I can’t exercise in bed, only lie there?”
It was one thing when he hadn’t planned to establish a relationship, lying alone anywhere was fine. But now that he had decided to pursue President Huo, he naturally hoped everything could progress smoothly.
Yet he encountered such a troublesome situation!
Liang Xiao lamented: “Is this a heat or a castration period?!”
“…” Duan Ming wanted to cover his mouth: “Is that all you care about?”
“What else should I care about?” Liang Xiao couldn’t understand. “Usually, I can at least hug President Huo in bed!”
Duan Ming thought to himself that while Liang Xiao was full of bold words now, he’d probably become timid again when actually facing President Huo, getting flustered by a single touch and calling it too intense. “Be patient. Stay here for a few days to stabilize, and when you’re better, go home to recover.”
Liang Xiao was reluctant: “Didn’t we book tickets for today?”
“Yes,” Duan Ming patted his shoulder. “That’s why we paid a ten thousand yuan fee to cancel them.”
Liang Xiao: “…”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Duan Ming used Liang Xiao’s own catchphrase to persuade him. “President Huo will understand.”
In Liang Xiao’s current physical condition, he might not be able to withstand the stress of travel.
Just waking up and talking for a bit, then trying to sit up once, had left him covered in cold sweat and too weak to sit up straight.
Seeing Liang Xiao close his eyes and struggle to steady his breath, Duan Ming felt bad and helped him sit up: “You don’t need to put up a front with us.”
Liang Xiao dropped his facade: “I want to go to President Huo’s home.”
“You’ve been working non-stop for so long, anyone would be exhausted. At least rest for a few days…”
Halfway through his sentence, Duan Ming froze: “What?”
Liang Xiao: “QAQ.”
Duan Ming wondered if omegas also had a sensitive period, and reached out to feel his forehead.
Liang Xiao, who had been thinking about studying in Huo Lan’s arms for days and even accidentally overcooked several sunny-side-up eggs, pushed away his hand and leaned weakly against the pillow: “It’s lovesickness.”
“…” Duan Ming numbly withdrew his hand: “Oh.”
Liang Xiao couldn’t continue alone, waiting for him to play along: “Brother Duan.”
Duan Ming: “A lovesick heart needs love’s remedy.”
“Yes,” Liang Xiao, having just slept and missed the flight, was very depressed, “Just lying here won’t cure it.”
Duan Ming took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to throw him out the window, and placed the water glass in his hand.
Having been partners for so long, Duan Ming knew that every time Liang Xiao acted like this, he was trying not to make them worry, deliberately putting on a brave face and joking around.
The more he suffered, the more he acted out; the more uncomfortable he felt, the more he misbehaved, preventing them from having time to worry about him.
But… it was really infuriating.
Duan Ming looked at him, already starting to worry about President Huo’s future mental, physical, and hairline safety.
Liang Xiao, after a moment of melancholy, took a couple sips of water, looked at the now completely dark sky outside the window, and let out another soft sigh.
Duan Ming was nearly worried bald: “The doctor said you can move at the earliest the day after tomorrow.”
“By then,” Liang Xiao said wistfully, “the walnuts will be gone.”
Duan Ming didn’t understand: “What?”
Liang Xiao scanned the room, found his coat, and shakily reached for it several times.
Duan Ming couldn’t bear to watch and brought it to him: “Looking for President Huo’s token of love?”
Liang Xiao couldn’t explain clearly, and had stopped denying it these days. He took out the box that originally contained the watch from his pocket.
Duan Ming, rarely seeing him so open, couldn’t suppress his curiosity and leaned in to look: “…”
Duan Ming, looking at the walnut kernels in the box, felt disoriented: “President Huo gave you these?”
Liang Xiao nodded, carefully selected the least attractive one, split it in half, and put it in his mouth.
Duan Ming: “Does President Huo think there’s something wrong with your brain that needs nourishing?”
“…” Liang Xiao put down the walnut: “Is it that unromantic?”
Duan Ming really couldn’t associate any romance with walnut kernels. He stared at them for a while before responding blankly: “What else could it be?”
When Liang Xiao had mentioned wanting to give President Huo a gift in return, a set of pajamas, he had been somewhat worried that the gift might be too modest.
Now it seemed the gift was far too extravagant.
One could buy a truckload of walnuts.
And throw in a nutcracker as well.
Duan Ming recalled the two-yuan red envelope President Huo had given, feeling both amused and concerned: “Will you be in charge of finances in the future?”
Liang Xiao was taken aback: “Huh?”
“You’ll manage both of your savings.”
Duan Ming couldn’t help but feel sorry for him: “You carefully save for two years, then in a moment of crisis, you open it when you need it most, only to find two yuan inside.”
Liang Xiao pondered for a while, then broke off a small piece of walnut and offered it to him.
Duan Ming couldn’t eat it and waved his hand, standing up unsteadily: “Go to sleep.”
Liang Xiao, having just slept all afternoon: “I’m not tired.”
“Even if you’re not tired, try to sleep,” Duan Ming said. “In dreams, anything is possible.”
Having been involved up to this point, Duan Ming saw through it all and sighed wearily: “In your dreams, President Huo might spend lavishly, hear about your illness during a meeting and immediately fly here on his private jet to see you, charter a plane to take you back…”
Liang Xiao listened in bewilderment, closed the box, and carefully tucked it back under his pillow.
Novels were misleading.
The domineering CEOs in artistic works were indeed all fabrications.
Real life wasn’t just about poetry and distant lands, but also about walnut kernels and two yuan.
Duan Ming patted Liang Xiao’s shoulder, sighed, and was about to speak again when he suddenly heard a loud noise: “What’s that sound?”
Liang Xiao, hugging his pillow, looked up towards the sound.
The assistant, who had just entered with some dinner, guessed curiously: “Renovation?”
“We’re on the top floor,” Duan Ming said. “What renovation? There’s only a helipad on the roof.”
Duan Ming: “…”
Liang Xiao: “…”
“Brother Duan, quick.”
Liang Xiao made a split-second decision, grabbing Duan Ming’s arm and giving his manager’s seemingly prophetic mouth a sip of water to moisten his throat: “Can you say again that in my dreams, President Huo might someday pin me against the door and kiss me?”
🤣🤣🤣😂😂🤣🤣🤣😂😂🤣🤣😂