Liang Xiao put down his phone and lunged toward Duan Ming. “Brother Duan!”
“Let go,” Duan Ming said as he opened the window. “Where’s my contract?”
“…What are you doing?” Liang Xiao asked, confused.
“Escaping,” Duan Ming replied.
The assistant, still stuck on the scene of the shredded paper in the washing machine, peeked around the doorway holding the clothes that needed rewashing. He hesitated, carefully choosing his escape route.
“It’s fine,” Liang Xiao tried to explain. “Butler Huo said he’d provide a deep interpretation—”
Duan Ming cut him off, “A deep interpretation of how you were so moved by president Huo’s apology letter that you turned into an emoticon?”
Liang Xiao: “…”
Butler Huo was older and not very familiar with online culture. He might even interpret this mysterious sequence of characters as some sort of poker hand. Two circles with a spike.
Duan Ming sighed deeply. “I should never have trusted you to handle it yourself.”
Someone who can only write 300 words in six hours logically defaults to three characters under a three-minute life-or-death deadline.
Reasonable.
It wouldn’t be surprising if Huo Lan sent a squad of icy operatives to infiltrate the hotel in the middle of the night and freeze the three of them into one collective emoticon.
The assistant, startled by Duan Ming’s imaginative scenario, grew nervous. “I don’t want to be frozen into an ‘A’…”
Liang Xiao patted him comfortingly. “I’ll take the ‘A’.”
The assistant relaxed slightly, but before he could respond, Duan Ming twisted him into a ‘Q’ with a flourish and flung the clothes out the door.
Duan Ming’s vigilance over their lives persisted until three days later.
The production crew had arranged for the main cast to take a collective break from filming and fly back to the capital for promotional activities.
“It’s just an interview program—light chatting with a few interactive segments,” the producer briefed them. “Whatever you talk about, steer it back to ‘Year-End’.”
Since the purpose was to promote the new drama, everyone had already gone through the list of pre-arranged questions the program team had sent via their assistants. Confident, they all nodded.
Liang Xiao, a last-minute addition to the group, was mostly there to enjoy the in-flight meal. Just as he was eyeing Duan Ming’s bread roll, the producer called him out. “By the way, Liang Xiao, what’s going on with your Weibo?”
Liang Xiao missed his chance at the bread. “Huh?”
“Your Weibo.” The producer frowned as he remembered. “Why can’t we find it?”
The production team had just released promotional clips, and fans had enthusiastically responded on the official account, liking, sharing, and commenting in droves. After seeing the clips repeatedly, many viewers began noticing the new character, Yun Lian, whose face seemed designed to draw attention.
The espionage drama was heavy and oppressive, with treacherous intrigue and turbulent times.
Merchants engaged in covert battles, while scholars abandoned their pens for the battlefield. Amid this chaos, only Yun Lian exuded a touch of gentle elegance reminiscent of Jiangnan.
Director Song Qi’s works were always grand and solemn, so when such a stunning face appeared out of nowhere, reactions were mixed. Some were worried, others excited, and a portion simply succumbed to pure admiration for his beauty, creating a buzz that couldn’t be contained.
When filming began, Liang Xiao hadn’t joined the crew yet. He missed out on group photos and reposted gratitude posts. The production team originally wanted to use this opportunity to draw attention to him, only to realize he didn’t even have a Weibo account.
Liang Xiao, catching on to the conversation, was about to respond when Duan Ming tugged at him.
“…My fault,” Duan Ming confessed, having been worried about this for days. He took the blame proactively. “We didn’t have many resources before, so we never bothered to set one up.”
The producer, who had been sent by Xingguan and knew the situation, didn’t take it too seriously. “Post a few things to help with the drama’s promotions.”
Duan Ming quickly agreed, dragging Liang Xiao back into his seat and stuffing a biscuit into his mouth.
Xingguan, with its wealth and resources, had booked them first-class tickets. The conditions were excellent, with plenty of space and an especially lavish in-flight meal.
By the time they landed, a blushing young Omega flight attendant even handed Liang Xiao several extra strawberry-flavored jellies.
Duan Ming’s gift bag contained no such jellies. After searching for a bit, he pulled Liang Xiao aside and whispered, “Do you get it now?”
Liang Xiao thought for a moment, then pulled out one of the strawberry jellies and handed it to him.
“…” Duan Ming, utterly exasperated, tore open the jelly and stuffed it into Liang Xiao’s mouth.
Liang Xiao’s original Weibo account had been forcibly confiscated and wiped clean by Longtao after the incident years ago. Afraid he might say something impulsive, they even changed the password and never gave it back.
At the time, Liang Xiao had just debuted and wasn’t particularly popular, with only a few tens of thousands of followers. His disappearance barely caused a ripple.
In the entertainment world, trends shifted every three months. Five years later, no one remembered him anymore.
Even recently, when he unexpectedly trended after being seen leaving president Huo’s residence late at night, the fervor only lasted three days. People couldn’t find anything except an empty, suspicious-looking shell of a Weibo page, and the matter fizzled out.
Now that Liang Xiao was resurfacing, it was inevitable Long Tao would target him again. With Xingguan backing him, though, life would be easier to manage.
“Set up a new account when we get back,” Duan Ming suggested, intending to capitalize on the current momentum. He spoke softly, “Find some materials, update your profile picture, and post a couple of things. The production team will interact with it.”
Liang Xiao thought for a moment. “Should I let president Huo know?”
Duan Ming frowned. “About what? Did you finish the previous reflection?”
Liang Xiao: “…”
“Focus on yourself first,” Duan Ming urged, his tone earnest. “This is a rare opportunity. Don’t waste it.”
Liang Xiao didn’t respond, as Duan Ming placed a mask on him, then pushed sunglasses onto his face and dragged him into the green channel.
…
Contrary to everyone’s expectations, the previous message abruptly stopped at that solitary, cryptic three-letter reflection.
Filming continued, hotel arrangements were in place, the butler didn’t send any more updates, and Mr. Huo hadn’t dispatched the Ice Peak special forces.
Duan Ming worried that this calmness was just the eye of the storm. Before leaving, he deliberately bought Liang Xiao three large packs of heat pads.
“You don’t need to specifically mention it to President Huo.”
After sending Liang Xiao home, Duan Ming still couldn’t rest easy and reminded him, “Xingguan said Longtao will help us handle things.”
Liang Xiao smiled helplessly. “Xingguan doesn’t know that I almost died because of Longtao.”
Duan Ming’s expression immediately darkened.
Liang Xiao stopped, unwilling to dwell on the past. “If I post on Weibo now, Longtao might think Xingguan is backing me up.”
Duan Ming was hoping exactly for that misunderstanding between Longtao and Xingguan. “The two companies were never on good terms anyway…”
“I’m checking Weibo,” Liang Xiao said, taking off his mask. “Feiyang Pharmaceuticals also belongs to the Huo family.”
Duan Ming didn’t follow his train of thought. “So?”
“Phase IV trials, stock prices have been very volatile lately.”
Liang Xiao opened his phone and showed him the stock market chart. “They suddenly recalled a suppressant that had been on the market for years. There’s a lot of speculation online, and Xingguan is also being affected.”
Under normal circumstances, even if Longtao used his methods, Xingguan wouldn’t care much.
But in this situation, because Liang Xiao was involved with Long Tao, both president Huo and the leadership at Xingguan would have to be extra careful.
“It might not be that serious,” Duan Ming said, unwilling to give up. “What if Longtao has already forgotten about us?”
Duan Ming clung to a shred of hope. “It’s been five years after all…”
“Five years,” Liang Xiao said, “But after I left the Huo family, they still bought me trending topics.”
Duan Ming froze for a moment and fell silent.
Liang Xiao took off his mask with one hand, leaving it hanging from his ear, slightly tilting his head.
The white elastic cord tangled messily around his slender fingers as he focused intently on the screen, calculating the stock indices.
He rarely looked so serious, and his overly refined features, with his lashes lowered, made his clean and stubborn youthful aura even more striking.
Duan Ming opened his mouth but couldn’t bring himself to argue. He sighed, “You never blink when it’s about taking president Huo’s money.”
Liang Xiao was taken aback. “I earned it honestly with my own abilities.”
Duan Ming: “…”
Liang Xiao felt no guilt and put down his phone with a clear conscience.
After all, president Huo had no idea how to even temporarily mark him in the beginning, so he could only leave a bite mark.
The trending topic was actually orchestrated by Long Tao. At first, Liang Xiao wasn’t sure, but it was Xingguan’s swift action in pulling down the trending topic that made him realize it wasn’t just the paparazzi’s superior skills.
If it were a real trending topic, they would have had to suppress the heat multiple times. It wouldn’t have been so quiet online after he returned from Huo Lan’s office.
At the end of the day, Huo Lan was a businessman and didn’t fear such gossip interfering with him. But for his career in the industry, he needed to maintain a clean image. Without Xingguan’s help at that time, the trending topic could have caused more serious damage.
Five years had passed, and Long Tao still hadn’t given up on him.
“Brother Duan,” Liang Xiao was aware of the situation and patiently advised, “Your contract is still with Long Tao.”
This kind of behind-the-scenes maneuver not only dragged Xingguan into it but also made the manager potentially liable for breach of contract.
If Duan Ming resigned, he would only have to pay a month’s salary, but if the breach was severe, it could ruin him financially.
“You’re not relying on Xingguan, but you still want to protect us,” Duan Ming sighed. “Who’s protecting you?”
Liang Xiao smiled. “It’s not the same thing.”
Even without anyone protecting him, he had made it this far on his own.
He couldn’t let that be the reason to backstab president Huo.
Duan Ming remained silent for a moment, then stopped pressing the issue. He helped Liang Xiao tidy up the room, ordered takeout, adjusted the air conditioning, checked the doors and windows, and left with his assistant.
Liang Xiao was about to take a shower but paused as he passed by the side room.
Huo Lan’s coat was still here.
That day, when Huo Lan lost control, Liang Xiao had armed himself with knowledge in a panic. When he left the Huo residence, it was in such a rush that he had worn his coat.
After all, Liang Xiao’s own coat hadn’t been disinfected eight times, and it wasn’t qualified to enter president Huo’s bedroom alongside the Mr. Liang who had taken three baths.
The coat had been passed on and even kindly washed by his assistant. The scent of pheromones had faded and wasn’t as noticeable anymore.
After several dilutions, it now seemed like a faint trace of melting snow that almost turned into ice shards under the sunlight.
He had planned to find time to return it, but then he had entered the set and hadn’t had the chance.
Liang Xiao stood there for a while, recalling the situation in Huo Lan’s bedroom that day.
The tall and strong alpha, exuding a fierce and cold aura, was overwhelmed by the scent of pheromones, his consciousness blurred.
His chest and shoulders were rigid, as hard as iron, his eyes tightly shut in an attempt to hold himself together. His muscles trembled, and he intermittently urged him to leave quickly.
……
Although subsequent events didn’t go entirely smoothly—he was indeed stuck in a situation where he couldn’t move—there were some minor, harmless mishaps. However, looking back at what was actually an extremely urgent situation, it didn’t seem all that dangerous in hindsight.
Liang Xiao stood in front of the clothing for a while, then decided to call Butler Huo.
He had caused the old man trouble a few days ago due to a lack of inspiration, but sooner or later, he’d have to post something on Weibo to interact with the production team. It was better to inform President Huo in advance. Regardless of Xingguan’s decision, he could adapt.
He wasn’t suited for the flow-oriented approach anyway, so even if he didn’t open a Weibo account, it wouldn’t matter.
Being an actor was still better than selling phone screen protectors for ten bucks under a bridge.
Liang Xiao steeled himself and made the call.
A few seconds later, the call connected. On the other end, the voice was almost lighthearted: “Mr. Liang?”
“…” Liang Xiao was cautious. “Are you Butler Huo?”
“Yes,” Butler Huo replied cheerfully. “I heard from Mr. Duan that you’re coming back to participate in a variety show.”
Liang Xiao began to suspect that the whole incident with the reflection might have been a figment of his imagination. “President Huo… is he okay?”
“He’s fine,” Butler Huo said. “He’s asleep.”
Liang Xiao couldn’t figure out the situation. He opened his phone and double-checked their previous messages.
Only then did the butler realize how much Liang Xiao was in the dark. Still cheerful, he explained the sequence of events from the beginning.
At the time, Liang Xiao had been driven into a corner by the washing machine and sent over a desperate message at the last minute.
Their President Huo, upon reading the apology letter, not only didn’t get angry but even let out a cold laugh.
Then, he put his phone down.
And then his susceptibility period just ended.
In the past few days, President Huo had returned to normal—working when necessary, resting when necessary, and even managing to snow when necessary. He resumed his typical daily routine of being cold, distant, and indifferent.
“…” Liang Xiao struggled to follow the storyline. “Why did it just end?”
The butler didn’t know either, but he didn’t care. “Next time Mr. Huo has his susceptibility period, try sending two kings and a two in a poker hand.”
Liang Xiao: “…”
He didn’t think President Huo’s susceptibility period ended because of poker.
Liang Xiao still had matters to discuss with Huo Lan and was particularly concerned about his emotional and psychological state, so he set aside the mystery of the susceptibility period for now. “Are you sure President Huo laughed coldly?”
“Not sure,” the butler replied honestly. “The whole room was cold at the time.”
Even the coffee ice cubes hadn’t melted.
President Huo’s laugh had been faint, vanishing almost as soon as it appeared. Then he picked up his phone and calmly went off to wash up and go to bed.
The next day, everything seemed completely normal again.
After carefully listening to the butler’s explanation, Liang Xiao felt somewhat relieved and decided to bring up something: “There’s something I’d like to trouble you to tell President Huo about…”
…
The butler listened carefully and seemed a bit serious. “Do you know about the Feiyang Pharmaceuticals issue?”
Liang Xiao was stunned. “What?”
“… It’s nothing,” the butler hesitated for two seconds, realizing he had blurted out some gossip he’d picked up from online browsing. He quickly changed the topic. “You’re busy. I’ll talk to Mr. Huo about it.”
Liang Xiao frowned. “What’s going on with Feiyang Pharmaceuticals?”
“Nothing.” The butler stiffly denied it. “You misheard.”
Liang Xiao remained silent.
“It doesn’t concern you directly,” the butler said awkwardly, clearly not used to this sort of deception. He stumbled over his words. “Mr. Huo said there’s no need to specifically let you know…”
Liang Xiao could tell the butler really wanted to say something. He smiled faintly. “Go ahead.”
The butler let out a long sigh of relief and immediately spilled the truth without hesitation.
Liang Xiao quietly listened to the full explanation, thanked him, and hung up.
This recent trial was something President Huo himself had requested. Huo Lan wasn’t responsive to standard inhibitors, so he had used an excessive dose of Valu, which barely managed to stabilize his pheromones.
To address this, the fourth phase of clinical trials was restarted. For a year, the company would provide inhibitors to volunteers free of charge, resulting in a significant funding shortfall.
The main goal of the clinical trial was to confirm the effectiveness and side effects of the specialized inhibitor, as well as to refine its application for specific groups. Anything beyond that wasn’t part of the trial’s scope.
Before taking his sleeping pills, Huo Lan had sent a fax to Feiyang Pharmaceuticals.
Overnight, Feiyang Pharmaceuticals had reorganized resources, gathered relevant professionals, and conducted statistical analyses to identify auxiliary medication that could effectively reduce side effects for omegas.
…
Liang Xiao pressed his forehead and exhaled.
The butler mentioned that on the plane—when President Huo had thrown him out in a sack—President Huo himself had been so overwhelmed by both pheromones and side effects that he hadn’t slept a wink all night and wasn’t in much of a state to handle work.
In total, he had only managed to do two things:
He approved Liang Xiao’s application to be a trial volunteer.
And for Liang Xiao alone, he created a separate adverse reactions monitoring group.
