3: Mr. Sheng, Please Save Me
For several days, every member of the Shengfang Biotech chairman’s secretarial team had been walking on eggshells—terrified that a single misstep would make them the scapegoat for their new young boss’s terrible mood.
The research and development team working on the gene scissors’ application technology had already been scolded by Sheng Shaoyou countless times.
The head of the lab, already a small elderly man, looked even older after just a few days of stress. He knew why Sheng Shaoyou was anxious—and he was, too.
Scientific research was a grueling endeavor, burning through billions each year. It was a bottomless pit of investment with no guaranteed returns—anyone would feel the pressure.
Though the patent for the gene scissors still had five years of protection left, Sheng Shaoyou’s urgency was not baseless.
According to Shengfang Biotech’s financial reports, more than 40% of the company’s annual profit came from the gene scissors and related derivative patents. If there were no breakthroughs at the application level, the company, as a publicly traded entity, would struggle to maintain its revenue once the original patent expired—making it hard to answer to shareholders.
The lab bore heavy responsibilities.
Ever since being rejected by Shen Wenlang, Sheng Shaoyou had issued a company-wide directive: Shengfang Biotech must conquer the technical challenges of gene scissors application in the shortest possible time.
He led by example—arriving early, leaving late. With their boss working so hard, no one else dared slack off. Every department was operating like it had been injected with adrenaline, all hands pushing toward the goal.
But some things couldn’t be solved with effort alone.
Late one night, after working overtime again, Sheng Shaoyou frowned at a discouraging progress report from R&D.
That was when his bad-influence friend, Li Baiqiao, called to ask him to meet at Royal Tiandi Club—one of the most extravagant hotspots in Jianghu.
“Not going,” Sheng Shaoyou said flatly. He had no interest in partying.
“Not coming? Don’t blame me later,” Li Baiqiao said mysteriously. “Rumor has it the young boss of X Holdings might be there tonight. Didn’t you always want to get in touch with X Holdings?”
X Holdings, formerly Beichao Holdings, was headquartered in Country P. In the late 20th century, it had risen from the underworld of arms and smuggling to become a global leader in life sciences—making major strides in both medical and agricultural fields. It also monopolized the world’s production of pheromone inhibitors.
Its wholly-owned investment subsidiaries covered a wide range of sectors: hospitality, real estate, and even early investments in streaming media.
Two years ago, Beichao Holdings underwent a major reshuffle. The new head was the illegitimate son of the previous chairman.
Rumors said this new boss was extremely young and had singlehandedly transformed Beichao into the global behemoth now known as X Holdings.
But he was eccentric and notoriously reclusive. Apart from a few trusted aides, no one knew what he looked like. After securing his position, his first act was to change the company’s name to the inexplicable “X.”
Now, under his leadership, X Holdings dominated global life sciences. Its investments kept pouring in, and even its lucrative arms trade was thriving. The man was unstoppable.
Country P was a capitalist haven, where politics and business intermingled openly. The X family was one of the nation’s most powerful and untouchable clans.
Within elite circles, everyone gushed about the mysterious new boss. They claimed the name “X” symbolized mystery and matched the unseen mastermind’s elusive persona.
Sheng Shaoyou had never publicly voiced his disdain, but privately, he thought this so-called successor was a spoiled idiot.
Young. Illegitimate. Inherited vast wealth and power. Refused to show his face. Eccentric. Secretive…
The current head of X Holdings embodied every gossip-worthy stereotype. Within second-gen elite circles, he was a permanent hot topic.
Insiders claimed he was ruthless and brilliant—a top-tier genius who easily crushed his half-brothers to rise to power. But he was supposedly ugly, hence his self-isolation and refusal to appear in public.
Sheng Shaoyou had always despised illegitimate children who fought their way to power. Rats belonged in the gutter. A flipped salted fish was still just salted fish. No matter how high they climbed, they were still shameful creatures who had to hide their heads.
But now, with Shengfang’s future hanging in the balance, Sheng Shaoyou had to admit—Li Baiqiao’s words tempted him.
After much hesitation, he decided to go.
He was someone who knew how to separate business from personal feelings. If necessary, he could make a deal with anyone—even a rat—if the price was right.
Recently, an X Holdings spokesperson had announced plans to establish a central factory in Jianghu for pheromone-related R&D and production.
X Holdings was a global leader in diagnostics and healthcare, but had always operated like an insular family business. It had never sought deep collaboration with outsiders.
As the biotech leader in Jianghu, Sheng Shaoyou was determined to secure this once-in-a-lifetime partnership.
The city of Jianghu, dressed in steel, glass, and neon, oscillated between the office towers’ silence and the nightlife’s chaos. Like a half-painted, surreal monster, it dragged exhausted souls into delirious madness until dawn.
Damn it.
Sheng Shaoyou put down his glass, gaze indifferent as he looked over the men and women going wild on the dance floor. He regretted believing Li Baiqiao’s nonsense and wasting his time watching idiots get drunk.
Anyone with a brain would know the elusive head of X Holdings would never show up to a place like this.
The same friend who had introduced him to Shen Wenlang had shares in Tiandi Club. Delighted to see Sheng Shaoyou—who rarely appeared in nightlife settings—he dragged him into several rounds of drinks.
“Hey, where’s Mr. UKW from X Holdings?” Li Baiqiao slurred halfway through.
Sheng Shaoyou, tired and annoyed, snapped, “Who the hell is UKW?”
“The mysterious guy running X Holdings like an emperor in Country P, who’s never shown his face!” Li waggled his brows. “U know who!”
“How would I know why he didn’t come?” Sheng pushed Li’s hand off his shoulder. “I’ve got things to do. I’m leaving.”
“Don’t go! Stay a little longer!”
Surrounded by long-unseen friends, Sheng Shaoyou was frustrated but still gave them face, staying until 1 a.m. When most were drunk, he finally stood up. Li Baiqiao, hammered, clung to his arm.
Sheng shook him off without mercy.
“Fine! At least finish one more whiskey!” the drunk muttered, sprawling on the couch. A gorgeous Omega on his lap immediately wrapped around his neck for a kiss. Li kissed him while groping another Omega’s thigh with his free hand.
Several attractive young Omegas surrounded Sheng too, but none dared touch him. He had a reputation for disliking “dirty” things. They instinctively kept a safe half-meter distance.
Sheng downed his drink and stood. Li reluctantly let him go, teasing, “Still going home alone tonight?”
Sheng smiled faintly, not bothering to respond.
This guy had girls on both sides and still worried about Sheng being lonely at night?
Ever since Sheng had differentiated into an S-class Alpha, bed partners had never been in short supply. But he never picked up lovers at such places—because he looked down on them.
His father’s womanizing, his mother’s loyalty, and their eventual tragic ending had made Sheng Shaoyou distrust love and scorn fidelity.
Promiscuity bore branches; devotion met early death. Good people died young, while the wicked lived forever. That’s how it had always been.
Over the years, many had come and gone. Not one stayed. Emotionally, Sheng was cruel. But his superior pheromones and status meant there was never a shortage of high-quality Omegas willing to line up.
He exited the VIP suite. The hallway was noisy.
A rude, low-class Alpha was forcefully dragging a young Omega server into his room.
From the back, the Omega looked tall and slender, with beautiful proportions and fair skin glowing like porcelain at the nape of his neck—clearly a stunner, completely mismatched with the pig-like Alpha.
Disgusted by the bullying, Sheng stopped.
The Omega, wearing the club’s server uniform, clearly hadn’t expected to be harassed and clung to the doorframe in panic. “I’m sorry, I just deliver drinks—I don’t entertain guests…”
The drunk Alpha, emboldened by lust, didn’t care. He wrapped an arm around the slim waist and slurred, “Don’t worry, you’re so pretty—I’ll pay you double, no, triple… C’mon, name your price. I’ve got money.”
“No…”
“No?” The Alpha grinned arrogantly. “Don’t play coy! Don’t pretend to be pure…” He leaned closer, hot breath brushing the Omega’s nape. “Sweetheart… just smell me—I’m an A-class Alpha… You’ll be begging me in no time…”
The malicious release of pheromones made the Omega tremble harder, but he still struggled. “I don’t want to…”
Omegas were delicate and should be cherished—not violated.
Sheng had always despised Alphas who used their status to bully Omegas. Frowning, he strode forward.
At the same moment, the Omega looked up—and his eyes lit up like a drowning man spotting a lifeline.
“Mr. Sheng! Mr. Sheng! Please help me…”
Only then did Sheng see his face.
He paused—then sped up. It’s Hua Yong.
As soon as Sheng reached him, Hua Yong grabbed his arm tightly. A clean, cool scent wafted up—delicate and stirring, like a touch across the nape, whispering countless unsaid things.
The pleading in his wet eyes struck Sheng like a bolt of electricity.
This time, Sheng didn’t shake him off. He glanced coldly at the Alpha’s hand around Hua Yong’s waist.
The pig-faced man, though also a guest, was in one of the cheaper rooms. Seeing Sheng’s sharp features, expensive clothes, and hearing Hua Yong call him “Mr. Sheng,” he hesitated and asked warily, “Who are you?”
“No one important.”
Under the lights, Sheng’s deep eyes gleamed. His lips, shadowed, formed a cold line. “Let go.”
To the Alpha, someone important would’ve declared their identity. Since Sheng didn’t, he assumed he was just some busybody.
“I won’t!” the Alpha growled, gripping Hua Yong tighter. “I saw him first! He’s mine tonight! You want a turn? Get in line!”
Hua Yong stiffened, lip trembling—but didn’t cry.
But the strength didn’t last long. Humiliated in front of Sheng, tears welled up in his eyes, shimmering and full.
Interesting, Sheng thought. Every time they met, Hua Yong was being mistreated.
And now again—red eyes, tears clinging stubbornly, so heartbreakingly beautiful.
Sheng enjoyed watching him cry.
Hua Yong clutched his arm tighter, afraid Sheng would believe the pig and leave. He choked, “Mr. Sheng, I’m just here to deliver drinks—I don’t do that kind of thing…”
“You don’t?” the Alpha scoffed. “An Omega working in nightlife doesn’t sleep with clients? Don’t pretend! I hate bitches who act pure…”
Before he could finish, his face turned pale.
A wave of overwhelming pheromones slammed into him—arrogant, violent, and absolute.
The Alpha’s hand flew from Hua Yong’s waist to his own chest. He couldn’t breathe. Terror crawled up his spine, paralyzing him. He collapsed to the marble floor like prey pinned by a predator.
“S… S-class Alpha…” he gasped, his pride barely keeping him from begging.
Sheng looked down at him with zero emotion.
He’d sensed it from afar: this arrogant guy was just a measly A-class.
Compared to him, an S-class Alpha, A-class was supermarket tank fish—cheap, mass-produced.
S-class? Auction-only delicacy. Elite. Rare.
This wasn’t suppression—it was pheromonal bullying.
Sheng had no interest in bullying the weak. If the guy hadn’t harassed Hua Yong, he wouldn’t have bothered… but now he had to teach him a lesson.
And so weak, too. Barely a whiff of pheromones and he crumpled like paper.
Bored, Sheng withdrew his scent, looked down, and ordered, “Apologize.”
“…”
The Alpha trembled, barely managing, “Sorry, man—my bad…”
“Not to me,” Sheng said. “To him.”
The Alpha flushed in shame. “You want me to apologize to a whore?”
“I’m not…” Hua Yong stammered, face burning. “I’m just a server. I’m not…”
“Not selling?” the Alpha sneered, eyes sliding to Hua Yong’s exposed midriff.
The club uniforms were designed to be revealing—the waist buttons always loose.
Following the Alpha’s gaze, Sheng’s eyes landed on the glimpse of flat, pale stomach—surprisingly toned, not delicate. Mesmerizing.
The Alpha’s leer annoyed him. Sheng’s voice chilled. “Do I have to teach you how to apologize, too?”
The Alpha, just schooled in pain, dared not talk back but didn’t want to apologize to someone he saw as beneath him.
He’d just had too much to drink, wanted to play with an Omega. What was the crime? Why apologize!?
Fist clenched, veins bulging, he seethed.
His friends had been watching from the sidelines. When Sheng got involved, they thought to intervene—but the S-class pheromones kept them frozen. Only now did someone peek out.
“Hey, hey, it’s just fun—no need to get serious!”
“Yeah, over a host? Not worth it.”
Sheng ignored them. Hands in pockets, he nudged the Alpha’s shoulder with his shoe. “Apologize.”
His scornful gaze was like looking at a cockroach playing dead.
Still reeling, the A-class Alpha tried to save face. “How could I apologize to a filthy whore…”
Fuck this. Apologize to a cheap slut? Never!
Pathetic.
Sheng frowned—and his pheromones surged again, wild and unrestrained, flooding the corridor.
…
It was like being drowned by a raging wave. The Alpha clutched his chest in agony.
“Help… help me—!”
Someone save me! Goddamn it—
I’m going to die…