PHWM Chapter 13

Liang Xiao’s manager, overjoyed, pulled him along and spent the entire night enthusiastically filling out volunteer application forms.

 

In doing so, they missed twelve calls from Huo Lan’s butler.

 

“Stop calling,” Huo Lan muttered.

 

After a sleepless night, he sat in the airport lounge with his eyes closed, attempting to rest, but the butler’s pacing and fretting got on his nerves. “You’re noisy.”

 

“Mr. Huo,” the butler tried to salvage the situation. “Perhaps they were held up. I’ll try contacting them again later—”

 

“No need,” Huo Lan cut him off.

 

The butler was unwilling to give up. “But don’t you want Mr. Liang to come back?”

 

Fatigue clung to Huo Lan like a shadow. Lacking the energy for his usual cold demeanor, he pressed his hand against his forehead and sighed. “No, I don’t.”

 

The butler was stunned. “Then why did you carry Mr. Liang to bed the last time he fell asleep?”

 

Huo Lan froze.

 

“I was outside the door the entire time,” the butler added, along with the head of the bodyguard team. “We saw everything through the crack in the door. You didn’t even mark him temporarily and even covered him with a blanket.”

 

Huo Lan said nothing, his expression darkening.

 

“And,” the butler continued, confused, “you even surrounded him with pillows…”

 

“Shut up,” Huo Lan snapped, thoroughly irritated.

 

“…” The butler immediately fell silent and shrank back.

 

Huo Lan moved his hand away from his forehead, pulled his laptop closer, and opened it to deal with a few simple tasks.

 

Back then, Liang Xiao had fallen asleep instantly and couldn’t be moved no matter what he tried. Trapped on the edge of the sofa, Huo Lan had no choice but to cradle his head like he was performing Tai Chi, turning it this way and that to no avail.

 

If he hadn’t surrounded Liang Xiao with pillows, the man would have kept reaching for his hand.

 

And it wasn’t as if he could conduct a video conference with one hand on the computer and the other propping up someone’s head.

 

He had assumed the butler and bodyguards weren’t around at the time, only to discover later that every single one of them had been loitering outside the door.

 

Huo Lan made a mental note to discipline them later, though for now, his exhaustion kept him from pursuing the matter. He shot them a glance, silently filing it away for future reference.

 

The butler, still trying to piece together the logic behind the bed and the pillows, didn’t dare dig further. Instead, he cautiously suggested, “The doctor did say that this suppressant can cause fatigue. Maybe you should get some rest.”

 

The suppressant recall wasn’t a trivial matter—it was already trending online, causing fluctuations in both market prices and stock values. Feiyang Pharmaceuticals had held thirteen meetings overnight, with reports flooding in one after another, some requiring immediate attention.

 

Huo Lan ignored the butler, opened a few reports, and suddenly spoke up. “Fatigue.”

 

“Yes,” the butler replied, still unsure of his meaning. “It’s listed as the first side effect.”

 

During a ten-minute existential crisis, Huo Lan had read the instructions twenty times and was, of course, well aware of that. Yet his expression remained cold as his eyes scanned the stock fluctuation graphs.

 

Without saying anything further, he clicked through several points on the reports before pausing on one page, his gaze drifting toward the window.

 

Liang Xiao yawned, his whole body collapsed into the lounge chair, so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open, longing only for sleep.

 

His manager, fearing that the leadership of Feiyang Pharmaceuticals would regain their sanity the next morning, had rushed him to sign up the night before, meticulously verifying his height, weight, measurements, medical history, and current condition.

 

He didn’t even understand why a suppressant for pheromones would require his hip measurement.

 

The customer service on the other end of the line also seemed confused, staying up late to politely accept their application, assuring them that it would be reviewed and assessed quickly, with a response within three days.

 

But Duan Ming was still uneasy. Together with his assistant, he tirelessly filled out every available application method they could find.

 

If magic existed in this world, the manager might have taken the assistant to catch an owl.

 

“How is it?” Su Man, having finished filming, noticed how sluggish he looked and eagerly came over to gossip. “Did it work?”

 

Liang Xiao was fighting off sleepiness with all his might. “What?”

 

Su Man reminded him, “The sensitive period.”

 

Liang Xiao finally reacted and was about to speak when Duan Ming, looking bright and refreshed, walked over. “Teacher Su, Liang Xiao is innocent and pure.”

 

“… ” Liang Xiao quickly regained his composure, covering his mouth and pulling him back. “Sister Man.”

 

The manager, perhaps having suppressed his desires for too long, had repeated that phrase to everyone since the volunteer application had been successfully submitted the previous night.

 

The assistant didn’t mind, but when he’d just been talking to Jiang Pingchao’s manager, the poor omega on the other end with dark circles under his eyes nearly jumped up and strangled him.

 

Still not learning his lesson.

 

Su Man didn’t mind; she’d just gotten the wrong idea and patted his shoulder to comfort him. “It’s fine.”

 

Liang Xiao let out a breath of relief, giving her a guilty smile, and handed his manager a band-aid to put on his mouth.

 

The assistant girl didn’t follow them, so Su Man, with one foot in the door, seized the opportunity to admire his appearance.

 

Having probably not slept well, Liang Xiao wasn’t as full of energy as usual. Coincidentally, Yun Lian had been injured in this scene, and with makeup applied to give him a slightly paler look, his delicate features, already enhanced, appeared even more refined, his long lashes accentuating the subtle beauty of his eyes.

 

The costume was new, ordered by the production team, hugging his waist, highlighting his silhouette with a sharp, clean line.

 

Su Man was quite familiar with the aloof, workaholic, domineering president type. She had full confidence in Liang Xiao, even betting on how long it would take before he would turn around and actively pursue her.

 

Not everyone was willing to talk about such things, so Su Man didn’t press further. She gave him a thumbs up, wishing him good luck, before being pulled away by the worried assistant.

 

Liang Xiao’s scenes were in the morning, so he purposely came to join the crew’s breakfast, eating his fill, then collapsing back into the lounge chair, hoping for sleep. “Brother Duan, want to join?”

 

“…” Duan Ming, who had been telling everyone how pure and innocent he was, pulled out a coat and wrapped it tightly around him, tearing off the band-aid.

 

It was rare for them to join a big production like this. Every opportunity was a chance to build connections, and who knew when they’d get another shot at a new project.

 

The manager had been dragging the assistant around to run errands these days, while Liang Xiao maintained an exceptionally professional and good-natured attitude. Up until now, he managed to avoid any retakes, mishaps, or scene-stealing, gradually building harmonious relationships with the entire crew.

 

Duan Ming left him to sleep, took a quick round of the set, and then hurried off to handle business.

 

Liang Xiao was so exhausted that his consciousness wavered. He managed to flip through two pages of his script before his energy completely drained, and he collapsed headfirst into slumber.

 

The assistant came over to inform him of the shooting schedule but suddenly fell silent as he got closer, tiptoeing over to put noise-canceling ear muffs on him.

 

—

 

“Mr. Liang—”

 

The butler froze. “He’s using that suppressant too?”

 

Huo Lan withdrew his gaze and glanced at the latest volunteer application list submitted for review.

 

The task of screening and compiling statistics fell under the CRA’s jurisdiction. It didn’t require being escalated to him as a redundant report—yet here it was, cluttering his desk.

 

Huo Lan always kept suppressants on hand for emergencies and vaguely remembered that during one near-loss of control over his pheromones, Liang Xiao had mentioned it once in passing.

 

It had slipped by so quickly that he hadn’t paid it much attention.

 

The butler hesitated, deliberating before speaking. “Did he ever bring it up to you?”

 

…

 

And then, the butler pieced it all together.

 

The impoverished omega had resorted to selling himself to the domineering alpha president in exchange for the expensive suppressant.

 

Mr. Liang had no feelings for their Mr. Huo. He simply saw him as a soulless cash cow.

 

“Mr. Huo,” the butler said, voice heavy with sympathy, as he metaphorically turned the magnifying glass up to maximum. “You may not remember, but at that time, when your pheromones were about to go out of control, it was Liang Xiao who voluntarily held you, allowing you to make a temporary mark on him—”

 

Huo Lan: “Even if he stood on his head, I wouldn’t have been able to bite him.”

 

The butler: “…”

 

Huo Lan glanced again at the consolidated volunteer application list from various channels.

 

Somehow, Liang Xiao’s name had appeared not just once on each channel but multiple times. The details provided were meticulous, and the tone of his application was earnest. He even left thirteen different contact methods.

 

There were even three separate mailing addresses included, all equipped with fax machines to ensure that any response could reach him within three minutes.

 

“Mr. Huo,” the butler began to feel uneasy. “You wouldn’t deny Mr. Liang’s approval, would you?”

 

“Why would I?” Huo Lan asked.

 

The butler was at a loss for words.

 

After all, the typical plotline went like this:

 

The president discovers the truth, acts coldly, and cuts off the omega’s hope of earning free suppressants through hard work. Forced into desperation, the omega returns, begging and yielding to the president’s every demand.

 

The domineering president would press the omega against the door by their waist, flash a cold smile, and say, “Don’t struggle. I’ll take good care of you.”

 

The butler, already fretting about the durability of the door, could only watch as Huo Lan deleted the redundant entries in the application list. He left only the topmost one: Liang Xiao’s submission. After approving it, he sent the decision back to the subsidiary.

 

The butler was momentarily stunned. “Mr. Huo—”

 

His hesitant tone was testing Huo Lan’s patience. Huo Lan closed his laptop with a snap. “One sentence.”

 

The butler hesitated before saying, “If you approve Liang Xiao’s application, he won’t be short on money anymore. Are you planning to rely on your charm alone to make him like you?”

 

Huo Lan: “…”

 

The butler: “…”

 

The butler, already feeling his age, found himself out of breath after delivering this line. He tried to steady himself, taking a deep breath amidst the metaphorical swirl of golden stars.

 

Huo Lan: “He won’t say anything.”

 

Liang Xiao was indeed focused on earning money, but he wasn’t the kind of person to cause trouble. Even if he was no longer bound by a contract or in financial need, he wouldn’t carelessly disclose Huo Lan’s flaws.

 

The butler suddenly recalled the old argument about maintaining good relations with Liang Xiao for the sake of confidentiality. Lacking a better counterpoint, he stood there for a moment and reluctantly conceded, “…Yes.”

 

Huo Lan seemed to consider the matter closed. He poured out two sleeping pills and requested a glass of warm water.

 

“Mr. Huo,” the butler began earnestly, feeling a bit sorry for him. “It’s possible that Mr. Liang might come to like you as well.”

 

Huo Lan swallowed the pills. “If you’re really that worried, send him an apology letter after the plane lands.”

 

The butler didn’t even want to imagine Liang Xiao holding a letter from Xingguan Entertainment titled “A Letter to Mr. Liang Xiao, Who Was Thrown Out in a Sack Due to the Negligence of Our Company’s president.” Doing his best to sidestep the topic, he cautiously said, “What I mean is, even if it’s not about the money, Mr. Liang might—”

 

“If it’s not about the money,” Huo Lan cut him off, “who would like me?”

 

The butler was momentarily struck by how brutally self-aware Huo Lan was about his role as a stereotypical domineering president. Just as he was about to say something, he caught sight of the unusually neutral expression on Huo Lan’s face and stopped short.

 

Xingguan Entertainment was currently on the rise. Few knew that Huo Lan had taken over Xingguan after spending three years consolidating the scattered subsidiary companies under the Huo conglomerate.

 

Back then, the overly young Huo family heir had shown no outward sharpness. He sat at the helm of the hollowed-out main company, resisting the advances of a meticulously chosen omega who had been gifted to him by one of the branch families. The omega, targeting Huo Lan during his post-differentiation susceptibility phase, spent an entire month trying every trick in the book but never made it past the second door to Huo Lan’s office.

 

At the time, elders from family friends remarked that Huo Lan’s steadfast will was a sign of greatness. Huo Lan had politely thanked them and raised his glass in a toast, later responding with the same unyielding demeanor.

 

The butler couldn’t fathom where Huo Lan’s deeply ingrained belief came from, so he softened his voice. “Mr. Huo.”

 

Huo Lan shut down the laptop and closed his eyes.

 

 

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