19: Something Might Have Happened to Secretary Hua
Another half a month passed just like that.
The cohabitation life, as pure and sweet as honey water, made Sheng Shaoyou look vibrant and glowing. Although there was still no progress in the gene scissor project, and the list of Shen Wenlang’s internal restructurings had yet to surface, Sheng Shaoyou, for once, had been unusually calm during this period.
Meanwhile, Chen Pinming’s bugging plan had been progressing rather smoothly. Although there was a close call early on when he was almost caught red-handed, things had generally gone well.
Unfortunately, although Hua Yong accompanied Shen Wenlang to many senior-level meetings, the discussions didn’t touch on any core secrets—mostly administrative internal matters unrelated to research projects.
Disappointed and increasingly anxious, Chen Pinming couldn’t help but worry. It had been more than twenty days since Sheng Shaoyou gave him the task, and if this went on, he feared he’d return empty-handed.
May 24 marked the first day of summer that year—and the day that marked one month since Chen had planted the bug in Hua Yong’s bag.
It was a sunny day, but for Sheng Shaoyou, it was a disaster.
That morning, Hua Yong made his usual Chinese-style breakfast—soy milk and soup dumplings—which Sheng Shaoyou didn’t particularly love but had grown used to. Before leaving the house, they shared a long, steamy kiss, as usual, before exchanging reminders to be careful on the road.
Still breathless from the kiss, Hua Yong, with flushed cheeks, asked, “Mr. Sheng, what would you like for dinner?”
A few days ago, Jianghu had a torrential rain. Hua Yong, caught without an umbrella, got soaked and returned with a slight fever. Though Sheng Shaoyou coaxed him into taking fever medicine, he hadn’t gotten better. In his weakened state, the little orchid couldn’t control his pheromone emissions, and the house had been especially filled with that intoxicating, rich floral scent lately.
“You’re not feeling well—why cook? I’ll have someone bring food back, okay?”
“No.” The usually soft and pliant orchid became stubborn when sick. “I want to cook.”
Sheng Shaoyou had no choice but to agree. After thinking a moment, he said, “Fish soup then—the kind you made last week. It was really good.” He paused. “But I’ll wash the dishes today.”
Hua Yong smiled instantly and softly said, “Okay.” Then he stepped into the elevator and waved, “See you tonight.”
Sheng Shaoyou happened to be on the phone, so he only nodded in reply.
Maybe he shouldn’t have let it go like that. If he’d known Hua Yong would never come home again, Sheng Shaoyou would have held him tightly, said “see you tonight” with full sincerity—or even stopped him from leaving.
But Sheng Shaoyou couldn’t predict the future. So he lowered his eyes to his phone screen, allowing the elevator doors to close. In his peripheral vision, that little orchid pressed the down button and left the house—never to return.
At 11:20 p.m., Chen Pinming received a call from his employer. Sheng Shaoyou wanted him to immediately track Hua Yong’s whereabouts.
“He hasn’t replied to messages since this afternoon. I called at six, but his phone was off. It’s still unreachable, and he hasn’t come home.” Sheng’s voice was steady, but after all these years, Chen could hear the underlying panic. “He usually gets home by five-thirty, and even if he’s working late, he always lets me know. I even called Shen Wenlang just now—his phone’s also off. Chen, has anything unusual happened at HS lately? Could Shen Wenlang have gotten into trouble and dragged others down with him?”
From that tone, if Shen Wenlang had been arrested, Sheng Shaoyou would’ve immediately pulled strings to bail out the implicated Hua Yong and hand in his resignation for him.
But HS Group was thriving. Chairman Shen Wenlang was a respected public figure, one of the top ten young entrepreneurs in Jianghu last year—not someone likely to get arrested for corruption.
Still, as Sheng Shaoyou’s anxious guesses grew wilder, a chilling thought struck Chen Pinming. He blurted out, “Mr. Sheng… Something might have happened to Secretary Hua.”
It felt like boiling water had been poured on Sheng Shaoyou’s heart. His pulse raced wildly, but he forced himself to stay calm and asked grimly, “What could have happened to him?”
Nervously, Chen confessed everything about the bugging device.
Sheng Shaoyou’s phone creaked in his clenched fist. After a tense silence, he said, “Go investigate.”
Two words—cold as crushed ice—but they made Chen break into a sweat. He hung up and immediately contacted private detectives and his police contacts.
But somehow… Hua Yong had disappeared into thin air.
HS’s front entrance camera captured him clocking out at five and getting into a rideshare car. But the vehicle took a strange, erratic route, then vanished after entering a small alley with no surveillance.
Police later discovered the car was stolen, its plates swapped. The original owner had reported it missing a year ago.
Globally, over eight million people go missing every year. But in a safe city like Jianghu, Sheng Shaoyou never imagined such a nightmare would touch his life.
Hua Yong’s unopened packages were still by the door. His favorite apron and kitchen tools hung in the kitchen. Traces of his daily life were everywhere, and that faint orchid scent lingered throughout the apartment. The thought that the soft, pure, beautiful young man might never return stabbed Sheng Shaoyou’s heart with unbearable pain.
He resented Chen’s overreach, but Chen had done it for the company’s sake. Sheng couldn’t bring himself to be too harsh and docked only half a year’s bonus.
Sheng threw immense manpower and resources into finding Hua Yong. He hired ten private investigators, all confident—but all failed.
He became convinced that Shen Wenlang had something to do with it.
That sneaky wolf always loved underhanded moves. It wasn’t the first time he’d stabbed someone in the back. And his behavior had been downright suspicious.
The day after Hua Yong went missing, Shen’s phone was back on—but he refused to answer Sheng’s calls.
Over and over, Sheng redialed, but the line was always busy.
Frustrated beyond reason, Sheng slammed his fist on the desk.
The potent pheromones of an S-Class Alpha exploded. His solid rosewood desk cracked, a long split marring the polished surface—just like the crack in his heart.
Eventually, his call went through—not to Shen, but to his office landline.
A calm male voice answered. “Hello, this is Chairman Shen’s office. I’m Gao Tu, his secretary. How may I help you?”
Gao Tu?
Pressing his temple to dull the ache from sleep deprivation, Sheng finally recalled—that was Shen’s most trusted Beta secretary.
“Sheng Shaoyou from Shengfang Biotech. Where’s your boss?”
Gao Tu was surprised. He remembered this arrogant second-gen Alpha clearly—the type who made even handing over a business card a job for his secretary.
Why would someone like him be calling a landline himself?
“Mr. Sheng, Mr. Shen is currently in a meeting and unavailable.”
“When will he be free?” Sheng clenched his jaw. “Ask him for me. I’ll call back anytime he’s available.”
Gao Tu was bewildered by the sudden shift from aggression to civility, but replied professionally, “Understood. I’ll ask him later and get back to you.”
At that moment, Shen Wenlang was in a meeting with Chang Yu. The two had known each other for years, though few people nationwide knew how close they actually were.
After nearly two hours, Shen emerged from the meeting room. Since his last heat, he had been deliberately distancing himself from Gao Tu. Though others still joked that Gao was the unshakable pillar of the secretary team, only Gao knew how much Shen had changed.
Everything shifted after Hua Yong joined. Shen used to always bring Gao to events. Now, with Hua around, Gao found himself increasingly idle.
That young, stunning Omega was the only one Gao had ever seen allowed to openly stay close to Shen. And although he looked delicate, Hua was efficient, fast-paced, and sharply intelligent—a model graduate. His beauty only highlighted his talent.
While Gao had spent ten years catching up to Shen’s work pace, Hua matched it from the start. Even though he was only given minor tasks, their synergy was undeniable.
Was this fate? Gao could only smile bitterly.
Yet, for over half a month now, Hua hadn’t shown up to work. HR said Shen had personally approved a long leave for him. Gao had been concerned at first—until he saw the knowing smiles from colleagues. If an Omega had entered a particularly intense heat, it wasn’t unusual for them to rest a month or two.
Not everyone was like Gao—who pushed through even his worst heats with inhibitors, just for the chance to see Shen at work.
Around 4 p.m., Shen and Chang Yu exited the meeting room. Chang gave Shen a sympathetic pat and said, “Good luck.”
Seeing Gao standing nearby, Shen frowned slightly.
He honestly didn’t remember when this quiet Beta had first appeared in his life. One day during university, he’d turned around and found Gao had somehow always been there.
They’d lost contact for a year, and then Shen had randomly spotted Gao’s photo on HR’s wall. On a whim, he moved him to the secretary team.
Gao wasn’t flashy—hardworking, yes, but lacking creative spark. Yet his steady nature was a rare quality in a world full of change.
For years, this Beta had been a constant presence behind Shen. Whether seen or unseen, Gao was always nearby.
Shen would never admit it, but Gao’s presence brought him a deep sense of security.
Until recently.
Ever since learning that Gao had taken time off to care for a heat-struck Omega partner, Shen had been inexplicably irritable. He’d treated Gao coldly, stopped inviting him to personal events.
The idea of that man—clumsy but earnest—holding an Omega in his arms sent Shen’s disdain for Omegas to new heights.
Even the scent on Gao that day hadn’t been unpleasant. But seeing him flushed and unsteady from lust had made Shen furious—for reasons he refused to examine.
So he began pushing Gao away.
He hated how just looking at Gao made him imagine those scenes, and that made him loathe Gao even more.
Shen regretted letting himself grow too dependent on this man.
“Do you need something?” Shen’s tone was sharp the moment he saw Gao. “If not, don’t just stand there like a decorative cutout. You’re not pretty enough to be one.”
That cut deep. Gao knew he wasn’t attractive, but hearing it said so bluntly hurt.
“S-sorry…” he stammered, too flustered to say anything else.
Shen’s disgust was evident. Gao nervously wondered if maybe his inhibitors had worn off too early—had he forgotten a dose?
No, he’d taken them that morning.
Still, with his pheromones growing increasingly unstable, he took a step back to be safe. “Two hours ago, Mr. Sheng called your office landline.”
Shen narrowed his eyes at that cautious retreat.
“What did he want?”
“He didn’t say—only asked when you’d be free so he could call back.”
Shen scoffed. “Didn’t take him long to panic after not hearing from Hua Yong, huh? So much for that arrogance.”
“Not… hearing from him?” Gao blinked. “I thought Secretary Hua was on leave?”
Shen shot him a cold look. Gao shut up instantly.
He knew Hua Yong’s looks had stirred interest across the company—but hearing Gao sound concerned made Shen irritated.
“So you miss him too?”
Caught off guard, Gao didn’t know how to answer.
“…A lot of people probably do,” he finally said.
What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Shen’s expression darkened.
“Mr. Sheng—should I—”
“Let him wait. Let him suffer. That arrogant bastard showed up demanding 35 billion on day one, like money grew on Shengfang trees. Someone needs to knock him down a peg.” Shen growled, “No callbacks. And if he calls again, reject it. Gao Tu, you’re my secretary, not Sheng Shaoyou’s damn messenger boy. Know your place.”
With that, the tall, handsome Alpha stormed off—leaving behind a stunned, rebuked Beta.