Lu Lianning and Gu Chen sat in the car, stuck in a traffic jam, moving forward at a snail’s pace.
Ahead, a large crowd had gathered, and an ambulance was racing toward the scene.
Chen Miao squeezed his way through the crowd. He had gone in wearing a coat, but now he emerged with only a thin undershirt.
An Omega had suddenly gone into heat in the middle of the street, causing a commotion. Authorities were working to clear the area.
Gu Chen suddenly remarked in an unclear tone, “He is quite kind-hearted.”
Following his gaze, Lu Lianning spotted the Omega, now under control with a suppressant and being helped into the ambulance. The Omega’s head was covered by a black coat—Chen Miao’s coat.
By that point, Chen Miao had already disappeared around the corner, slipping away quietly.
Lu Lianning let out a disdainful snort but didn’t comment.
Once the Omega was taken away in the ambulance, the street cleared up quickly. As Gu Chen maneuvered the car forward, he said, “A TV station invited you to perform as the final act for their New Year’s Eve show.”
Without a second thought, Lu Lianning rejected the offer. He then asked Gu Chen irritably, “What’s gotten into you? Don’t you know I don’t take these kinds of gigs?”
Gu Chen stayed silent for a moment before replying, “Don’t you need the money?”
“When did I ever…” Lu Lianning suddenly remembered the three million that had failed to transfer. Since that day, Chen Miao had been off doing who knows what, disappearing after taking a few days of leave. Today, he had unexpectedly run into him, compassionately assisting an Omega who had gone into heat.
Lu Lianning felt a surge of irritation. With all that overflowing kindness, why didn’t Chen Miao think to check on his own boss?
When they arrived at the company, Lu Lianning suddenly asked, “What would I perform at the New Year’s Eve show?”
–
Chen Miao was pedaling his broken bicycle home when a black Bentley pulled up, blocking his path. Four men in black suits stepped out.
Their faces were expressionless, their voices flat as one of them asked, “Are you Mr. Li Yan?”
Chen Miao’s grip tightened on the handlebars, his pupils contracting. “You’ve got the wrong person.”
The four Alpha bodyguards remained unfazed. “Please get in the car, Mr. Li.”
Chen Miao hesitated for a moment, then parked his bicycle against the wall, securing it with a lock from the basket.
The setup didn’t quite match the usual debt collectors. As he sat in the back of the car, his mind raced with possibilities.
The car eventually stopped at a private estate, where vast green lawns and a low rock garden stretched out endlessly.
After entering the building and taking the elevator, Chen Miao still hadn’t seen anyone besides the private bodyguards.
At the door to the innermost room, one of the bodyguards knocked. “He’s here.”
The door opened, and Chen Miao stepped inside. The bodyguards left, closing the door behind him.
Chen Miao looked up and saw an Alpha sitting there, dressed casually and holding a steaming cup of tea.
He didn’t have to think twice; this was a relative of Lu Lianning’s, as his face clearly showed a resemblance to him.
The man made no move, nor did he spare a glance at Chen Miao. He simply said, “Li Yan, right? Come over, and let’s talk.”
Exuding an air of impatience, the man got straight to the point. “I’m Lu Lianning’s father. I wanted to discuss something about him today.”
Lu Lianning’s father!?
He looked far too young. As Chen Miao studied him closely, he couldn’t help but marvel at the strong genetic traits in Lu Lianning’s family.
With such striking features, Lu Lianning’s father certainly deserved a lot of credit.
Chen Miao had a hunch about the purpose of this meeting—perhaps the man was going to offer him a few million to stay away from his son?
“You’ve been close to Lu Lianning recently.” It was a statement, not a question. The man’s voice wasn’t loud, and there was no hint of arrogance or superiority in his expression.
If anything, the gaze he directed at Chen Miao was overly indifferent, almost devoid of emotion.
To him, Chen Miao seemed like nothing more than an object—like a table or a chair.
He wouldn’t disrespect tables or chairs, nor would he be angry with them. He simply had no feelings or attitude toward them, because it wasn’t necessary. This was a stark contrast to how Lu Lianning behaved.
“The reason I called you here is that despite his age, Lu Lianning is still reckless and immature, forcing me to take time out of my busy schedule to discipline him. It’s rather ridiculous.” A slight curve appeared at the corner of Lu Anling’s mouth, though his cold eyes lacked any humor.
Chen Miao, genuinely lacking confidence, replied, “To be honest, I don’t think there’s anything between me and Lu Lianning. So, there’s really no point in discussing whether I should leave him or not. And since you already know my name, I’m sure you’ve looked into my background.”
Lu Anling cut off Chen Miao’s attempt to sound clever. “I have no intention of making you leave him. If the plaything in his bed is not you, it would be someone else. I’m not so strict as to deny him this small pleasure.”
He glanced briefly at Chen Miao’s ordinary face. For a Beta to have stayed in Lu Lianning’s bed this long, he must have some exceptional skills.
“What I need from you is to persuade him to come back. He’s my only son, and it’s time he started doing something useful.” After saying that, Lu Anling slid a check across the table to Chen Miao.
Something useful?
Chen Miao suddenly realized that, in Lu Anling’s eyes, Lu Lianning’s acting career—starring in TV dramas and movies, enduring freezing temperatures to film action scenes until his hands went numb, losing so much weight for Shattered Window that he was barely recognizable, staying up all night memorizing lines and working to perfect his emotions—was nothing more than an ignorant child playing around.
He remembered that night in the dimly lit room, where a cliche movie played on the large screen. Half of the screen’s light illuminated Lu Lianning’s pale, fragile yet stunning face. The room reeked of alcohol as Lu Lianning looked up at him and asked, “Was my acting really that bad?”
His mind flashed back to the run-down apartment where they had stayed until dawn, the morning sun pouring through the high windows onto his bare skin.
Lu Anling continued, “All his assets are currently frozen. He can’t give you what you want. And isn’t Chen Yu still waiting for his surgery?”
Chen Miao let out a wry smile. “He doesn’t exactly listen to me. I think you’re overestimating the influence I have on him.”
Before meeting Chen Miao, Lu Anling had assumed he was a shrewd person, given that he had managed to climb into Lu Lianning’s bed.
But now, seeing Chen Miao’s hesitancy and vague demeanor, his patience was wearing thin. Still, he decided to guide him a little further toward the logical choice.
“He’s only ever acted and doesn’t do other kinds of entertainment work. Yet an hour ago, he accepted an invitation to perform at a New Year’s Eve show—to dance. Do you think he can dance?”
The strained smile Chen Miao had been struggling to maintain finally faltered. The confusion he had been wrestling with, the things he had been trying to avoid or couldn’t fully understand, suddenly became clearer, even if he didn’t want to acknowledge them.
Why had Lu Lianning pushed him away that night, saying, “Forget it,” after they had been intimate?
Why had he left so abruptly?
Why had he wanted to talk about something else?
Why couldn’t they discuss money?
What exactly was this “something else”?
The truth was, Chen Miao didn’t want to say “forget it.” Chen Yu still needed surgery, and debt collectors were forcing him into hiding, living like a rat in a dark corner. He wanted to take the check from Lu Anling, to promise that he would convince Lu Lianning to return to his family and give up his dreams of filmmaking. If that night, Lu Lianning had been willing to talk about money, Chen Miao might have accepted all of this.
But Lu Lianning had told him to forget it.
So, Chen Miao had no choice but to say, “Forget it.”
When Lu Lianning said it, there had been a carefree arrogance, a sense of superiority. But when Chen Miao said it, it was just an ordinary “forget it.”
Yet, he still said it.
“If you push him into something he doesn’t want to do, he’ll lose his temper. And when he’s angry, he’s not easy to coax,” Chen Miao finished with a self-deprecating smile.
