BTFB chapter 2

Ah Yuan.

Zhao Qian hadn’t heard anyone call him that in a long time.

The grandparents who gave him this name had passed away one after another, and the pine trees stood tall; his parents had crossed the ocean, and there was no news from them for a long time. Zhao Qian went to Jianghua alone, and no one had unearthed this name buried in the dust.

Zhao Yuan was the name Zhao Qian used before the age of 23.

He did not belong to Jianghua City.

Zhao Yuan belonged to the Dongshan Street of Yancang City, belonging to those small Western-style buildings with courtyards, belonging to the warm and beautiful time of ten years ago, belonging to the gentle sunlight falling on the terrace in the afternoon, belonging to the rain falling in spring, belonging to the wind rising in autumn…

Belonging to a place without wind and snow on Christmas Eve.

More than ten years ago, Dongshan Street could be described as having a gathering of talents.

Dongshan Street was the most famous historical district in Yancang City and even the entire country. Many families that prospered in modern times chose to build their first duplex buildings there, and generation after generation continued the legacy.

Over the years, the families living on Dongshan Street had become prominent over many generations. They not only had substantial financial and political power but also possessed extraordinary knowledge and cultivation. Some were closely related, while others were adversaries, but they understood the principles of sharing joys and sorrows, and their daily interactions were polite and respectful.

The houses in the residential area of Dongshan Street were not necessarily available for purchase with money. These houses were the “ancestral homes” of the aristocratic families, symbols of status and history.

The Zhao family initially made a fortune in the newspaper industry. Later, with the advent of the television era, the newspaper industry gradually declined. The Zhao family continued to live there, benefiting from the shelter of the previous generation.

Zhao Yuan’s parents were well-known journalists in the circle, jointly responsible for a program on the news channel, especially enthusiastic about in-depth reporting. Both of them had no ambitions in business, and they were both Beta. Zhao Yuan’s birth was considered fortunate. With no “family business” to inherit, the couple only wished for their child to live a stable and happy life, without insisting that Zhao Yuan must continue to stay in the media industry.

The Bian family was different. They initially prospered in shipping, and later, with the accumulation of capital, their influence grew. The Bian family had many branches, and the one living in Donghu Mansion was a direct line. Bian Liming’s father held a high military rank as the Deputy Commander of the Southern Military Region. His wife passed away early, leaving behind two sons.

The eldest son, Bian Liqin, was an intelligent and strong Alpha, studying at a military academy and majoring in international politics, expected to inherit his father’s business.

The second son, Bian Liming, had not differentiated and was a Beta. His father had no expectations for him, and because of his busy work, he had no extra energy to personally guide and educate him. Bian Liming could do whatever he wanted, learn whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t cause trouble or embarrass the family; his father wouldn’t interfere.

The residential area of Dongshan Street was a quiet and small part of the bustling city. The roads were smooth and spacious, with neatly trimmed bushes along the sides, and banyan trees planted on the sidewalks, each one thick enough for one or two people to embrace.

Banyan trees had a large crown, with branches growing horizontally, and aerial roots hanging down. Some branches extended over the walls and into people’s yards, neatly pruned. In the summer, the shade of the trees almost covered the entire road, and only a bit of fragmented sky could be seen through the gaps in the branches and leaves.

In winter, Yancang City experienced one rainstorm after another. Some leaves that couldn’t bear the weight fell to the ground, picking up mud and dust, getting swept away by shoe soles and tires.

Eleven years ago, on Christmas Eve, a cold and wet winter rain fell on Yancang City.

That night, Zhao Yuan’s parents took an early leave and busied themselves in the kitchen roasting a turkey stuffed with vegetables. Under the guidance of his grandparents, Zhao Yuan decorated the house.

Because of the cold and dampness, the seldom-used fireplace in the house was lit. The five people sat around the table, accompanied by the sound of rain outside the window, chatting and laughing, enjoying a warm and hearty meal.

Grandpa made eggnog himself. The fragrance of milk filled the room as it wafted through the warm air, spreading throughout the entire dining room.

Zhao Yuan had a sweet tooth from a young age, and the aroma tempted him. His eyes kept glancing at the eggnog.

Grandpa smiled quietly, lowered his head, poured half a cup, and extended his arm to hand it to Zhao Yuan, “Ah Yuan, want to try it?”

Zhao Yuan quickly thanked him, took the cup but didn’t drink immediately. Holding the cup with both hands, he glanced around at the faces of the others at the table.

His mother, pretending to be displeased, gave him a glance and turned to talk to Grandpa, “Dad, Ah Yuan isn’t even 18 yet.”

Zhao Yuan couldn’t help but interrupt, “It’s less than half a year until I turn 18!”

Grandpa looked at his mother, raised his chin, and spoke to her in a tone used to coax children, “It’s okay. It’s all hot, and it’s been cooked. Not much alcohol.”

His mother shook her head gently, turned back to pick up the vegetables. Zhao Yuan knew that this was an acquiescence. Delight filled his heart, he smiled apologetically.

At that moment, the doorbell suddenly rang in the house. “Ding dong” three times, loud and somewhat piercing.

Late at night, raining heavily, on Christmas Eve, who could it be?

The five people at the table were stunned into silence, and the doorbell rang again, clearly and distinctly.

Zhao Yuan was the first to get up, taking three steps in two and reaching the door. He opened it straight, looking out and seeing a figure standing at the entrance of his front yard, holding a small umbrella.

That night, the rain was heavy, and raindrops slid down along the umbrella’s ribs, reflecting the light from the street lamps. The features of the person under the umbrella were hidden in the shadows, their expression unclear.

“Bian, Bian Liming?” Zhao Yuan slightly frowned, feeling a bit hesitant.

Following that, his father, who rushed over with an umbrella, handed it to Zhao Yuan and spoke loudly to the figure outside, “Bian Er Gongzi, how come you didn’t call in advance? It’s pouring rain today. What if you catch a cold!”

Before Zhao Yuan’s father could finish speaking, Zhao Yuan had already put on his shoes, opened the door to let Bian Liming in the yard, and then, without any pause, pulled him back from under the eaves.

Bian Liming, at the door, folded the umbrella and responded to Zhao’s father while giving the umbrella to him, “Hello, Uncle, just call me by my name.”

Zhao Yuan’s mother, hearing the commotion, also came to the door, took Bian Liming’s rain-soaked coat, and gently patted Zhao Yuan’s shoulder, “Ah Yuan, you two go to your room upstairs. The first floor is too messy; we’ll tidy up a bit.”

Zhao Yuan nodded, pulled Bian Liming’s arm, and was about to go upstairs. However, Bian Liming insisted on greeting everyone in Zhao’s family first before following Zhao Yuan upstairs.

Zhao Yuan’s room was neither small nor large, just enough for a wardrobe, a 1.6-meter bed, and a desk with a bookshelf. There was a door in the room that was usually kept closed, leading to a small balcony; the balcony had a hanging chair, and sitting on it allowed a view of the front yard’s flora.

Zhao Yuan poured a cup of hot water for Bian Liming, using his own cup.

Leaning against Zhao Yuan’s desk, Bian Liming held the cup with one hand and stood quietly there, sipping the water sip by sip.

Sitting on his bed, Zhao Yuan lazily leaned against the wall, patting the bed sheet next to him, “Sit, why are you still standing?”

Bian Liming shook his head, his feet unmoving. He lowered his head, glancing at Zhao Yuan’s desk, and tapped on the cover of a book, “Is this your book? ‘News: The Illusion of Politics’? Is it interesting?”

“It’s not mine,” Zhao Yuan turned on the room’s heating, “It’s borrowed from my mom. I only read a little.”

“Oh.” Bian Liming continued to drink water with his eyes down, not saying anything more.

Zhao Yuan stared at Bian Liming’s face for a long time, and unable to wait any longer, he stood up, walked to him, and pulled him towards the bed, “Sit down—”

“Hey…” Bian Liming used a bit of force to free his wrist from Zhao Yuan’s hand, looking at Zhao Yuan with an increasingly puzzled expression, and somewhat evasively explained, “I got my pants wet. I might dirty your bed.”

Zhao Yuan sighed, “So, are you going to keep standing?”

Bian Liming pointed to the direction of the balcony, “Let’s go outside.”

Zhao Yuan agreed and pulled out two slightly thick jackets from the wardrobe, each putting one on. In the chilly wind, the two sat side by side in the hanging chair.

“Hey,” Zhao Yuan lightly bumped into Bian Liming’s shoulder, “Why did you come to my house on Christmas Eve? I saw your dad’s car today; didn’t he come home?”

The hanging chair wasn’t large, and sitting two people was a bit cramped. Perhaps because it was genuinely cold that night, Bian Liming squeezed closer to Zhao Yuan, resting his head on Zhao Yuan’s shoulder. His voice sounded a bit muffled, “He came back. Bian Liqin is back too.”

Without asking further, Zhao Yuan instantly knew what was bothering Bian Liming.

Bian Liming never liked his elder brother. It seemed like just because his brother was an Alpha, he was better than him in every aspect as a Beta.

Alpha genetics were simply unreasonable. Bian Liqin had all the advantages — innate intelligence and hard work from an early age, an impeccable record from childhood to adulthood.

Despite wanting to find his own path, Bian Liming, who took a week to learn a piano piece, found that his brother could replicate it perfectly after just a glance and ten minutes on the piano.

Bian Liming never had a chance to boast because his brother was always the best.

Bian Liqin could discuss current affairs with his father, exchanging hypotheses and opinions; he spoke in a lively manner about things that Bian Liming couldn’t comprehend.

And Bian Liming seemed like a child who never grew up, every time. His father always assumed that Bian Liming didn’t understand anything, only occasionally asking about his mood, health, and studies.

Bian Liming had questioned in his mind more than once, what was so good about Bian Liqin! But not long after, he had to admit that Bian Liqin was indeed better in every way.

Knowing what was bothering him and how to solve the problem, but being unable to do it, he could only sulk when the problem reappeared.

Zhao Yuan took a hand out of his pocket, comforting by patting Bian Liming’s leg and asked gently, “So, did you run out in a fit of anger? Bian Liqin is your brother after all. It’s not easy for him to come home on Christmas Eve. If you leave like this, he’ll worry.”

Bian Liming leaned his head closer, nonchalantly propping one leg on Zhao Yuan’s knee, “I know… When I left, I told them I was going to see a classmate, and they let me go.”

The night rain showed no sign of stopping. Zhao Yuan looked down at the balcony, where the light from the living room and dining room faintly reflected on the lawn in the front yard, creating a gleam with the raindrops.

“You smell really good today,” Bian Liming suddenly sniffed twice at Zhao Yuan’s neck, “Milk fragrance, very sweet and gentle. If you ever differentiate, it’ll definitely be Omega, that sweet and tender kind.”

Zhao Yuan tilted his head and lightly bumped Bian Liming’s head, “It’s impossible to differentiate! I’m already 18, and there are no signs of gland development. I’m definitely Beta for life.”

Bian Liming remained silent, and the two swayed back and forth on the hanging chair.

After pondering for a while, Zhao Yuan carefully spoke, “Actually, I think being a Beta isn’t that bad. No worries about uncontrollable heat or susceptible periods, no need to rack your brain to compete with elites. No expectations, no pressure—relaxed and comfortable, right?”

Maintaining this posture without moving, Liming, with his head of hair brushing against Zhao Yuan’s neck, asked, “It’s Christmas Eve today, do I get a gift?”

Zhao Yuan chuckled, “Actually, no. I didn’t expect you to spend Christmas Eve at my house.”

Suddenly, Liming lifted himself from Zhao Yuan’s shoulder, let his legs down, and turned slightly in Zhao Yuan’s direction. His deep and bright eyes stared directly at him, “But I did prepare a gift for you.” Liming said earnestly.

Zhao Yuan was momentarily stunned, blinking as he asked, “Really? What gift is it?”

Liming gently placed his hand on Zhao Yuan’s shoulder, lowered his thick and dark eyelashes, and slowly leaned toward the side of his neck, leaving an extremely light, feather-like kiss.

The feather grazed the skin, slowly moving backward, sliding over a small bone protrusion at the back of the neck, then slightly upward, leaving a soft and warm trace, tentatively imprinting it.

Liming raised his head, clear eyes meeting Zhao Yuan’s, “Liqin said this is the location of the gland. How does it feel to be kissed here? Comfortable?”

Zhao Yuan’s heart raced, staring blankly at Liming, his face expressionless and dazed. After a pause of about ten seconds, he spoke, not very confidently, “I don’t know.”

Liming’s eyes flickered, and his complexion seemed somewhat troubled. As if summoning immense courage, he almost painstakingly squeezed out a sentence, word by word:

“Then… can you give me this ‘gift’ too?”

Unable to come up with a reason to refuse, Zhao Yuan pursed his lips and nodded. Following Liming’s example, he embraced his shoulders, pressing his lips against the back of his neck.

Zhao Yuan wasn’t sure if Liming felt anything, but when he withdrew from the kiss, he couldn’t help but tremble slightly.

Not daring to look at Liming’s expression, Zhao Yuan forced composure, standing up from the hanging chair, “It’s a bit cold outside; let’s go back in.”

The rain on this Christmas Eve was relentless and showed no sign of stopping. Liming called home and decided to stay in Zhao Yuan’s room for the night.

Without spare clothes, Liming wore Zhao Yuan’s pajamas after showering, and Zhao Yuan’s (unworn) underwear. Then, he lay down in Zhao Yuan’s bed.

The room was dark; the door and the curtain were closed tightly. It was pitch black, with no visibility whatsoever.

Zhao Yuan could hear his and Liming’s breathing completely out of sync, as well as the continuous patter of rain outside. The night was eerily quiet.

“Zhao Yuan,” Liming spoke softly, cautiously asking, “Did my visit tonight disturb your Christmas Eve celebration?”

“Not at all.” After a brief pause, Zhao Yuan spoke from the other side of the pillow, “As long as you want to come, you’re welcome every year.”