PHWM Chapter 24

Huo Lan had one arm wrapped around Liang Xiao.

 

In truth, it wasn’t just Liang Xiao who assumed that, once Huo Lan learned the truth, he would view Liang Xiao’s approach as having ulterior motives.

 

Even the manager, just before leaving, had hesitated, repeatedly looking back as if wanting to say something. The butler, too, had once tried to probe for answers, tactfully beating around the bush.

 

Huo Lan reflected on this and thought their assumptions weren’t entirely baseless.

 

In the business world, setting traps often required ruthless precision. Logically, one couldn’t afford to be careless with anyone nearby.

 

…

 

But, in reality, he hadn’t thought about any of this.

 

Huo Lan lowered his gaze, his eyes falling on Liang Xiao.

 

With his arm around Liang Xiao’s shoulders and back, it was clear just how slender Liang Xiao was. The thinness of his frame was so pronounced that his shoulder blades seemed to jut out.

 

He was trembling slightly.

 

Concerned that Liang Xiao might be cold, Huo Lan controlled his pheromones as much as possible. He lowered his head, intending to say something, but suddenly felt a tug at the hem of his shirt.

 

Huo Lan frowned and looked at Liang Xiao, whose eyelashes were tightly shut.

 

“It wasn’t hard,” Liang Xiao murmured lightly, his hand resting weakly against Huo Lan’s chest. With his eyes closed, his tone was casual, even joking:

 

“Honestly, the black-and-white photo did most of the work. Roughly estimating, it probably had 15 more episodes of screen time than me—”

 

His voice suddenly stopped, unable to continue.

 

Huo Lan raised his hand and lightly touched the moisture gathering beneath Liang Xiao’s lashes.

 

Caught red-handed, Liang Xiao was utterly mortified, unable to say another word: “…”

 

So many years had passed.

 

He’d been through thick and thin.

 

Played corpses and bandits, worked as a stand-in, and even acted as a ghost. He’d rotated through countless small roles in various crews, jumped off cliffs, and plunged into water.

 

But being hugged—just hugged—was enough to make him break down and cry on the spot.

 

Just one hug.

 

Liang Xiao’s face turned scarlet. Taking advantage of the moment Huo Lan withdrew his hand, he quickly and haphazardly wiped away his tears.

 

There was no wind blowing in the room. The windows were shut tightly, leaving no excuse like sand getting into his eyes.

 

… Maybe it was Huo Lan’s cold, piercing pheromones that stung him.

 

Feeling utterly embarrassed and unfit to face anyone, Liang Xiao spiraled into despairing thoughts. In a daze, he muttered, “Fifteen episodes…”

 

Huo Lan was momentarily taken aback. “What?”

 

“The black-and-white photo… had a full 15 more episodes than I did.”

 

Liang Xiao, resigned to his fate, grasped wildly for an explanation, any explanation, for his tears. Scraping the bottom of the barrel, he blurted out, “I was jealous. Got a bit emotional.”

 

Huo Lan was puzzled. “Jealous of a black-and-white photo?”

 

Liang Xiao shut his eyes and nodded.

 

Huo Lan was confused. “Jealous to the point of tears?”

 

Liang Xiao went all in. “…Yes.”

 

Huo Lan, caught off guard, was thoroughly tangled in Liang Xiao’s logic. “Have you told Director Song?”

 

Liang Xiao would have to lose his mind to tell Director Song. “No…”

 

Huo Lan frowned, pondering for a moment. “I’ll tell him.”

 

Liang Xiao’s vision went dark. He quickly grabbed Huo Lan’s arm—the same one that had innocently held him through the night.

 

Huo Lan halted mid-step.

 

Liang Xiao was startled by his own reflexes, immediately releasing his grip. Silently reciting a calming mantra, he said, “The black-and-white photo… has its own value.”

 

“Teacher Pei is the head screenwriter,” Liang Xiao added, forcing himself to bring up a higher authority. “If it was given fifteen episodes of screen time, it must be important in those fifteen episodes.”

 

Liang Xiao displayed noble selflessness. “It can’t be cut.”

 

Huo Lan wasn’t well-versed in the specifics of filmmaking. Hearing Liang Xiao’s argument, which seemed somewhat reasonable, he thought it over and returned to sit by the bed.

 

The photo’s scenes couldn’t be cut.

 

But the key issue, as Huo Lan saw it, was that Liang Xiao had fifteen fewer episodes than the photo.

 

After piecing this together, Huo Lan nodded. “Understood.”

 

“I’ll handle it.”

 

Back on set, Duan Ming sat on a small stool, expressionless. “So this is why your role suddenly expanded by two episodes, and we now have five extra days of filming.”

 

In the chilly south, without central heating, the set was under constant assault by cold. The sooner they wrapped up, the better.

 

The paychecks had already been finalized; no matter how many extra episodes they shot, it wouldn’t add a cent to their wages.

 

Duan Ming couldn’t make sense of Liang Xiao anymore, coldly analyzing, “You’re dissatisfied with your photo, feeling it has more screen time than you.”

 

Liang Xiao: “…”

 

Duan Ming’s expression grew more incredulous as he continued, “Over time, you grew jealous—”

 

“Brother Duan,” Liang Xiao interrupted, despairing. “Please stop.”

 

Duan Ming spared him further torment, handing over the script for the newly added scenes and giving him a consoling pat on the shoulder.

 

Liang Xiao, dazed, clutched the script, found a spot near an oil heater, slapped two warm patches onto himself, and opened the script to read.

 

…

 

This turn of events was entirely unforeseen.

 

Huo Lan, despite appearing calculating and inscrutable, was excessively bound by logic.

 

In the business world, he could strategize and dominate with ease. But as long as you deviated from conventional logic, you could trap him in a dead end—lagging at least three chapters behind everyone else.

 

At the time, Huo Lan had been completely drawn into Liang Xiao’s logic about being “jealous of the black-and-white photo to the point of tears.” Not only that, but he even suppressed his temper and patiently counseled him for a while.

 

Liang Xiao performed convincingly and, under Huo Lan’s heartfelt mediation, reconciled with the photo as if they were old friends sharing a drink.

 

Liang Xiao thought that was the end of it.

 

What he hadn’t anticipated was that Huo Lan, aside from being eloquent, was also outstanding at math.

 

“No problem,” the butler said as he delivered ginger tea on Huo Lan’s orders, trying to console Liang Xiao earnestly. “You were upset about having fifteen fewer episodes than the photo, right? Well, now you’re only thirteen episodes behind.”

 

Liang Xiao stared blankly. “Thank you so much.”

 

“You’re welcome,” the butler said sincerely, waving it off. “How’s your health now?”

 

Liang Xiao had recently been knocked down by the weather and caught a fever. Once his temperature subsided, he felt as lively as ever. Combined with the steady supply of supplemental medications, he barely noticed any lingering discomfort.

 

He thanked the butler again, took the ginger tea, blew on it, and downed it in one gulp. “All better.”

 

The ginger tea had been brewed under the butler’s watchful eye, with an unmerciful amount of ginger thrown in. Seeing Liang Xiao drink it straight, the butler was astonished. “Would you like some water?”

 

“No need.”

 

Liang Xiao, his resolve unwavering, chugged the tea like a hero downing a jug of wine. “I can handle it.”

 

Truthfully, it hadn’t always been so easy for him. During his half-year recovery period, he’d been subjected to countless peculiar medicines. Over time, he’d built a tolerance.

 

Having been able to drink cold medicine granules like tea, the ginger tea hardly fazed him.

 

The butler was filled with respect as he took the thermos back. “Mr. Huo will be here tonight. Please take care of yourself.”

 

Liang Xiao thought the connection between those two statements was weak. Wiping his mouth with a few tissues, he asked, “How is President Huo doing?”

 

“Very well,” the butler replied with anticipation. “His pheromones have been relatively stable recently. Once he gets here and gives you a temporary mark, everything should return to normal.”

 

Liang Xiao nodded.

 

Although he and the butler had an understanding, that night, his fever had just broken, and he’d been sweating profusely. Huo Lan had insisted that he should not take a shower.

 

The filming schedule was tight, with production resuming at the set the next day.

 

At the time, Huo Lan had been in a morning meeting. Liang Xiao, freshly showered, had waited in the airport lounge until ten minutes before boarding, only to be met by the head bodyguard and the butler instead of Huo Lan.

 

The butler was understanding. “We don’t blame you.”

 

“If President Huo comes, let me know,” Liang Xiao said with a smile. “I’ll head up right away.”

 

The butler had been waiting for those words and was visibly relieved. “Of course.”

 

Liang Xiao closed his script. “By the way… there’s one more thing.”

 

The butler straightened up. “What would you like to ask?”

 

Liang Xiao was curious. “Why does President Huo seem so unwilling to temporarily mark?”

 

He had actually noticed that Huo Lan himself was especially averse to temporary marking.

 

When in a bad mood, he didn’t want to bite; when tired from work, he didn’t want to bite; when his omega’s health didn’t meet expectations, he didn’t want to bite.

 

The butler was just as worried as Duan Ming, the manager, and had to patiently persuade the president every time.

 

“We don’t know either,” the butler hesitated. “It might… have something to do with President Huo’s family.”

 

Liang Xiao then remembered that Huo Lan had taken over the Huo family business right after reaching adulthood, and felt that he shouldn’t ask any further. He nodded. “I see…”

 

Before he could finish his sentence, the butler quickly continued, “There are no family members around President Huo now. There’s no one to break up his relationships. His family environment is free, making him a quality, diamond single alpha.”

 

Liang Xiao pressed his forehead. “I didn’t mean to ask that…”

 

“It’s alright.” The butler wanted to say more, pulling a chair and sitting next to him. “This story has to start from when President Huo was born.”

 

Liang Xiao: “…”

 

The butler quickly summarized, explaining in a few words how the cold nature of President Huo came to be, according to the gossip and speculations from the household staff, housekeepers, chefs, and cleaners.

 

When Huo Lan was young, he didn’t live with the Huo family and wasn’t particularly favored by his parents.

 

As a child, little Huo Lan was sent to be fostered by a branch of the family. When it was time for school, he was sent far away to Jiangnan.

 

Later, Huo Lan returned to the capital to attend university, but not long after, his father and mother died in a plane crash while traveling.

 

The family business was left in chaos, and Huo Lan stepped up to take over.

 

His growth was too isolated, with no suitable elders to guide him, and given this, in the butler’s view, Huo Lan’s personality had actually become quite optimistic, positive, friendly, and kind by comparison.

 

“The master didn’t like President Huo.”

 

The butler continued, “When President Huo was in elementary school, he seriously wrote a letter to his parents. He had been saving it up for a semester and took it home during the summer break to show it to master.”

 

“…”

 

Liang Xiao wasn’t really surprised. He exhaled and suppressed his sympathy. “Then what happened?”

 

“Master threw it away.”

 

The butler said, “He threw it into the flowerbed outside the window. It was pouring rain that day, and President Huo ran outside by himself to pick it up… but he didn’t manage to bring anything back.”

 

Liang Xiao furrowed his brow but didn’t say anything.

 

The butler hesitated for a moment and then gently continued, “There has always been no one by Mr. Huo’s side, and he doesn’t know how to interact with people. If possible, we’d like to ask you to give him a little more time.”

 

“Have you always wondered why Mr. Huo, knowing what happened five years ago, still doesn’t suspect you?”

 

The butler added, “He actually… wants to find someone he can trust more than most people.”

 

Liang Xiao took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he gazed out the window.

 

The butler picked up the thermos and quietly stepped out of the room.

 

The head of the bodyguard team was crouched outside the door.

 

“Do you think that was a bit much?” the bodyguard captain asked, his expression full of worry.

 

“Too much?” The butler crouched down beside him.

 

“The master didn’t actually ignore the letter at the time,” the captain said, recalling. “He just left it on the windowsill. The window was open, and the maid accidentally knocked it out.”

 

The butler replied evenly, “Close enough.”

 

“There wasn’t even a torrential downpour that day,” the captain continued. “The weather was perfectly fine.”

 

“Close enough,” the butler repeated.

 

“And Mr. Huo didn’t go outside to look for it…”

 

Even as a child, Huo Lan’s temperament was more or less the same as it was now.

 

The letter had been written with care, each stroke deliberate. He had written many such letters, accumulating a thick stack, which he neatly delivered to the study door.

 

But once it was thrown away, it was gone.

 

For Huo Lan, giving something was entirely his decision—it didn’t require a response, nor did it need to earn anyone’s affection.

 

“…”

 

The butler inhaled deeply. “Mr. Huo looked for it.”

 

“I’m certain he didn’t,” the captain insisted. “I remember it clearly.”

 

“He looked for it.”

 

The captain shook his head. “He didn’t.”

 

Having worked as the head of security for the Huo family for many years, the captain had access to all the surveillance cameras in the estate and was confident he wasn’t mistaken. “He di—”

 

“He looked for it.” The butler pressed his hand over the captain’s mouth. “Mr. Huo searched the entire night. His clothes were soaked through. The wind was biting, and the rain was pouring.”

 

The captain frowned in confusion. “What does this have to do with the plan?”

 

“Our plan is to get Mr. Huo and Mr. Liang together,” the butler explained patiently.

 

The captain nodded. “Exactly.”

 

“And how do we achieve that?” The butler, his hair streaked with white, sighed. “By having Mr. Liang trip and accidentally fall into Mr. Huo’s pure and noble embrace?”

 

 

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