71: The Little One Kicked Me
“If you haven’t figured it out yet, just take your time.”
This time, Gao Ming seemed unusually understanding.
There was no trace of his usual coercion or harshness — he spoke to Gao Tu in a particularly gentle tone:
“I’m going back to Yi City tomorrow too. Let’s meet at that restaurant we used to frequent, okay?”
Gao Tu hesitated, about to refuse, when Gao Ming added:
“Qingqing really liked that restaurant when she was little. Why don’t you bring her along tomorrow?”
“She’s busy.”
At the mention of Gao Qing, Gao Tu rejected the idea without even thinking.
Gao Ming froze for a moment and asked:
“Is that so?”
“Mm, it is,” Gao Tu replied.
“She fell behind on her studies because of her hospitalization. She’s been using the break to catch up, so she definitely won’t have time for a meal.”
“Then what about you?”
Rarely so patient, Gao Ming continued to persuade him:
“If Qingqing doesn’t come, you should at least come. Don’t worry — this time, I’m not asking for money. I just want to see you. It’s been a year, hasn’t it? Family should at least look like family.”
Gao Tu was still wavering when a heavy sigh came through the phone:
“Little Rabbit, was Daddy really that bad in the past?”
The childhood nickname struck him like lightning. Facing his own father, whose blood ran in his veins, Gao Tu couldn’t help but feel sour, couldn’t help but waver, couldn’t help but soften.
“No,” Gao Tu lied to comfort him.
“All the bad luck is over now.”
“Mm.”
Gao Ming hummed in agreement, put the call on speaker, and sent a string of addresses to Shen Wenlang.
“It’s settled then. See you tomorrow.”
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
—
Jianghu City, HS Group, Chairman’s Office.
After speaking with Hua Yong and arranging to meet Gao Ming, Shen Wenlang still felt restless. After sitting idly all afternoon, he called Hua Yong again near dusk.
The first time, Hua Yong didn’t answer.
Patiently, he called a second time — this time it connected.
“Boss is setting up the venue himself, so he couldn’t answer. What do you need?”
He did have something to say, but when asked so directly, he suddenly didn’t know where to begin.
After a few seconds’ pause, the voice of Chang Yu on the other end urged him:
“We’re very busy right now. If it’s nothing urgent, let’s talk later.”
It was noisy on their end — the sound of tape being pulled, of nails being hammered.
“What’s he setting up?”
With a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe, Shen Wenlang asked irritably:
“Don’t tell me he’s even setting up his own proposal venue?”
“Mm.”
Chang Yu replied,
“Boss thinks doing it himself is more sincere.”
“And what are you doing?”
“Blowing up balloons,” Chang Yu admitted helplessly.
“For the sake of secrecy, it’s just me and him here, and we’re already way behind schedule. Anything else? If not, I’m hanging up.”
Nailing boards himself? Personally setting up the proposal? And Chang Yu stuck blowing balloons?
This lovesick madman really couldn’t get more ridiculous.
Unable to stand it, Shen Wenlang sneered:
“Who would’ve thought — the famous Secretary Chang can even blow balloons? You really are multi-talented, a man of many skills.”
“Shen Wenlang.”
Hua Yong’s voice floated faintly through the phone — he was probably far from the receiver, his voice sounding distant:
“Enough with the sarcasm. Tomorrow the ‘ugly bride’ finally meets the in-laws. I suggest you get some sleep early. If you can, go get a facial too — wouldn’t want to be disliked by your in-laws.”
“What in-laws?!”
Shen Wenlang shot up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on:
“If it really came down to it between me and Gao Tu, I’d be the one on top! I’m an S-class Alpha!”
“So what?” Hua Yong reminded him:
“Our Mr. Sheng is also an S-class Alpha.”
“Don’t lump Gao Tu in with your kind of pervert,” Shen Wenlang spat.
“Gao Tu is different. He always listened to me.”
“I listen to Sheng too,” Hua Yong chuckled.
Then, more seriously:
“Times have changed. If you don’t seize the chance to prove yourself now, I don’t think Secretary Gao will even bother acknowledging you anymore.”
“Who says so?”
“I do,” Hua Yong said, amazed.
“At this point, you don’t still think just finding him will make him obediently come back, do you?”
Shen Wenlang didn’t answer.
Hua Yong’s familiarity with Gao Tu — real or not — irritated him. It felt like someone was intruding on his territory.
He couldn’t help but retort:
“Don’t act like you know him so well. I’ve known Gao Tu for ten years — you’ve known him what, a few days? I know him. Before, if I told him to go east, he’d never go west.”
“You said it yourself — before,” Hua Yong countered.
“Want to bet? I bet the next time Secretary Gao sees you, he’ll run faster than a rabbit from a wolf.”
Shen Wenlang: …
—
Hua Yong didn’t consider himself a particularly warm person, but he had a good impression of Gao Tu.
That night at the banquet, when he saw Gao Tu fleeing from the staff lounge, he’d paid special attention.
Gao Tu carried a strong Omega scent — the same scent he’d had that day in the slums, when he’d delivered a USB drive. At first Hua Yong thought maybe he’d done something with another Omega at the banquet.
But soon he realized something was wrong.
As an Enigma, his sense of smell was far sharper than most. From the staggering Gao Tu, he could also smell another familiar Alpha pheromone — Shen Wenlang’s.
The two scents, thick with desire, tangled messily. Hua Yong, who was also in heat at the time, instinctively grew wary.
Gao Tu’s face was flushed, clutching a crumpled shirt, wearing a waiter’s uniform thrown on haphazardly, limping toward the door.
But Hua Yong had been in a rush to find Sheng, so he only snapped a photo before hurrying off.
Later, recalling that night, it all made sense. Gao Tu hadn’t smelled like a Beta at all — more like an Omega in heat after a rough encounter with Shen Wenlang.
Later still, when Gao Tu handed in his resignation, Hua Yong — grateful that Shen Wenlang had helped him pursue Sheng — tried several times to warn him.
But this thick-headed wolf, shrewd in business yet clueless in love, had simply let Gao Tu go. Only after his phone number was canceled did he finally realize he needed to chase him.
—
By around seven, Sheng finally left the office.
For once, Hua Yong hadn’t contacted him all afternoon, which was unusual.
In the car, Sheng called him.
The phone rang for a long time before Hua Yong picked up.
“The pipes at home burst. Water everywhere. We’ll stay at a hotel tonight.”
“Pipes burst? What happened?”
“I already called someone to fix it. But it’ll take time. So tonight we’ll stay at my place.”
Sheng didn’t suspect anything and had the driver head to X Hotel.
Dinner was at the rooftop Chinese restaurant — a huge private room, but only the two of them.
The imposing round table had been replaced with a cozy, elegant square table to allow them to sit closer.
Sheng had a good appetite and wasn’t picky. Midway through dinner, he frowned slightly.
“What’s wrong? Feeling unwell?”
“No,” Sheng shook his head,
“It’s nothing.”
“If you feel sick, say something.”
Hua Yong put down his chopsticks, stood, and gently rested his hands on Sheng’s shoulders, softly chiding:
“Mr. Sheng always tries to act tough.”
With a sigh, he added:
“It worries me.”
His expression was so earnest, lashes drooping slightly, tender and full of affection.
It was practically a sin to make such a lovely, attentive lover worry.
“Really, it’s nothing.”
After hesitating a moment, Sheng added softly:
“The little one… kicked me.”
At first Hua Yong didn’t get it — but then, seeing Sheng’s slightly flushed face, he realized he meant Little Peanut.
A warm, brilliant smile spread across his face. He placed a slender hand on Sheng’s taut abdomen and said, half-scolding:
“Ah, Little Peanut is naughty. So cheeky.”
Under his palm, the firm belly was slightly rounded — you wouldn’t even know a tiny life lay beneath unless you felt for it.
“Be good in there, okay?”
He cooed in a baby-talk tone.
Sheng’s face reddened further. Embarrassed, he pushed Hua Yong’s hand away:
“Go sit down. Don’t use that sappy tone.”
“Ah~”
Hua Yong drew out the sound, teasing:
“Was that sappy?”
“Very sappy.”
Face still red, Sheng shoved another bite into his mouth to cover his discomfort.
Obediently, Hua Yong sat back down. Soon, the gentle scent of orchid pheromones filled the room, calming Sheng’s frayed nerves.
—
The next morning, Sheng’s company and HS Group began a grueling nine-hour meeting about collaborating on gene-editing technology.
Sheng himself attended the entire session. But Shen Wenlang, citing personal reasons, was absent.
At 11:15 — fifteen minutes early — Shen arrived at the restaurant. He waited patiently for over twenty minutes before Gao Ming finally ambled in.
He was a middle-aged man in a tank top and slippers, chewing gum, hair slicked back — nothing like the father Shen had imagined for Gao Tu.
“Hello.”
Shen stood politely.
“I’m Shen Wenlang.”
“Mr. Shen, hello.”
Gao Ming extended a hand.
“Thanks for looking after my son, Gao Tu.”
“Not at all.”
Shen shook his hand, perfectly courteous.
“May I ask — where is Gao Tu?”
“Oh, him?”
Gao Ming dragged out a chair and sat down.
“I told him to come at 12:30.”
Shen’s brow furrowed slightly. Everything about this man’s demeanor rubbed him the wrong way — but this was the man who had brought Gao Tu into the world, so he forced down his irritation.
“I thought it was 11:30?”
“That’s just for us,” Gao Ming said with a smile.
“There are some things I want to discuss with you privately first.”