69: You Mean Gao Tu Is Pregnant?
After shamelessly taking up twenty minutes of Hua Yong’s precious time, Shen Wenlang — who had received guidance from this “romance immortal” who could effortlessly win over even S-class Alphas — finally managed to get hold of Gao Ming’s phone number within forty minutes.
Sitting in the car chilled to a near-freeze by the air conditioning, Shen Wenlang hesitated, rubbing the edge of his phone without dialing.
The phone case was one that Gao Tu had bought for him: a simple, deep gray, classic and understated — just like Gao Tu himself. Not flashy or pretty, but reliable and comforting.
Shen wasn’t too familiar with Gao Tu’s family situation, but he’d heard bits and pieces. So when it came to whether or not he should reach out to Gao Tu’s father directly, he hesitated.
Even back in their school days, Shen had known that Gao Tu and his sister had moved out of their family home very early.
Gao Ming had never been a responsible parent and had little money. Starting at age fourteen, Gao Tu had to work several part-time jobs to support himself and Gao Qing.
Other classmates used to joke that his “hobby” was working.
Even now, Gao Ming and Gao Tu seldom spoke. Shen could only recall one instance where Gao Tu had even mentioned his father, and it was at a banquet.
The lighting was dim, and throughout the evening Gao Tu’s phone kept lighting up — distracting Shen to the point of irritation.
Shen had glared at him and said coldly:
“Turn it off or go take the damn call outside.”
Gao Tu had pressed his pale lips together, looking almost ashamed, and finally muttered after a long pause:
“My father… needs something from me. Excuse me. I’m sorry.”
That expression — so apologetic it was almost humiliating — made Shen feel guilty afterward, as if it had been him, not Gao Tu, who’d caused the disturbance.
At the time, Hua Yong had been sitting to Shen’s right, pretending to be just another new hire, watching with curiosity.
As Gao Tu got up and practically fled the table to answer the call, Hua nudged Shen and asked with a faint smile:
“Your secretary’s kind of cute. Does he like you?”
Like? How was that possible.
Gao Tu was slow, wooden even, a perfect little work machine who knew nothing but how to grind away at his duties.
If anything, he probably just liked his job — and the paycheck Shen gave him.
Still, he was the perfect employee: patient, reliable, silently bearing pressures that were far beyond what a secretary should have to endure.
Shen knew perfectly well he was a sharp-tongued, demanding, difficult boss. Yet Gao Tu never said a word of complaint.
That Beta had an astonishing capacity to endure. Unlike all those smart, calculating people who circled Shen for his money or influence, Gao Tu seemed unable — or unwilling — to distinguish between Shen’s virtues and faults, accepting them all alike.
Shen liked that about him. Liked his reliability, his steadiness, his loyalty — even his awkwardness.
In a world full of people trying to get something from him, Gao Tu’s obstinate simplicity felt precious.
He wasn’t the brightest. But he’d beaten out all the clever applicants and remained at Shen’s side the longest.
Once, Shen thought it was just inertia — not wanting to bother replacing him.
But sitting here now, freezing in his air-conditioned car, realizing he no longer had a way to reach him, Shen finally understood: it wasn’t inertia.
Hua’s words had planted a thought in his mind — something he’d never dared consider before:
He really liked Gao Tu.
Shen was an all-or-nothing sort of man: bold and ambitious in business, yet conservative in his personal life — never making moves unless he was absolutely sure.
And yet here he was, fumbling with his phone like a nervous teenager going to an interview.
When the line connected, he felt absurdly tense.
“Hello… sir. My name is Shen. I’m a… colleague of Gao Tu’s.”
“Colleague?” Hua Yong, ever mischievous, chuckled later when Shen told him.
“Why not just admit you were also his classmate back then?”
Shen could hear him laughing on the other end and snapped:
“Have you laughed enough?”
“I have a meeting with him tonight. You’d better pray everything goes smoothly — or else—”
“Or else?”
Shen sneered weakly:
“Or else I’ll tell your Alpha about your tacky, cliché little proposal plans ahead of time.”
This damn Enigma, he thought. You make me sick, grinning at Sheng like he hung the damn moon. Stop flaunting your happiness in my face while I’m miserable over here.
“So before I get Gao Tu back,” Shen warned, “wipe that smug ‘luckiest man alive’ smile off your face. You’re insufferable.”
Hua actually laughed harder.
“I know you’re jealous,” the petty little emperor of P-country said lightly.
“But happiness can’t be hidden, you know. If seeing me happy bothers you so much, maybe stop calling me — unless you can manage this on your own.”
“It’s just an old man! What’s there to manage?” Shen retorted.
“And getting your secretary back? That easy too?” Hua countered.
“If it really were so simple, why did you call me?”
“Wenlang,” Hua added kindly after a beat,
“When it comes to feelings, you can’t fool yourself. That’s why you keep screwing up. If you’d listened to me earlier and tried to win him back sooner, it wouldn’t have come to this.”
Shen stayed silent for a long moment before muttering, almost defeated:
“Where do you think he is? Do you think he’ll come back?”
“That I can’t say. But—” Hua’s tone turned firm,
“I can say this: Gao Tu needs you right now. More than ever.”
To the desperate Gao Ming, Shen’s call was like water in the desert — salvation at last.
He remembered that among Gao Tu’s colleagues, only one was named Shen: an S-class Alpha who appeared in finance news all the time, extremely wealthy, and — to Gao Ming’s mind — foolish enough to pay absurdly high wages to a plain, worthless Beta like his son.
This fat, juicy fish would be his lifeline, enough to keep him in Jianghu until he finally struck it rich at the underground casinos.
By the time he hung up, he already had his plan: tell Shen that Gao Tu was gravely ill.
An incurable disease was perfect. It would get him an upfront payment for “treatment,” and plenty more as long as he played it right.
And just as Gao Ming was gleefully rehearsing his script, another windfall dropped into his lap.
His phone rang again. This time it was someone from an Omega protection agency.
The caller introduced himself briefly and said they hoped to contact Gao Tu through his father.
When Gao Ming hesitated, the man spoke faster:
“Mr. Gao, a doctor who’s been treating your son recently lost contact with him. Concerned for his safety, the doctor filed a report. Your son’s situation is very serious. As a patient with severe pheromone disorder, he should not have gotten pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” Gao Ming blurted, confused.
“Yes.” The staffer didn’t notice his disbelief.
“According to the information we’ve gathered, he’s unmarried and living alone. For an Omega, carrying a pregnancy without a partner is already difficult. Coupled with his condition, it could be fatal if untreated.”
“…You mean, Gao Tu is pregnant?”
“That’s correct,” the staffer said, growing more urgent.
“This is a private matter, but it’s an emergency. As an Omega protection agency, it’s our duty to follow through.”
“Omega? You’re saying Gao Tu is an Omega?”
The caller paused, puzzled.
“Of course. You’re his father — you didn’t know?”
“No…” Gao Ming let out a low laugh.
“Of course I knew. I’m just surprised he’d… carelessly get himself pregnant. I raised him strictly, you know.”
“There’s no point arguing about that now,” the staffer said.
“The priority is finding him and ensuring he terminates the pregnancy or receives proper treatment.”
“Of course,” Gao Ming replied smoothly.
“As his responsible father, I’ll reach him as soon as possible — and find out where this child came from.”
The odd tone in his voice made the caller uneasy, but he pressed on:
“As long as the family cooperates, that’s good. We’re only trying to protect his rights and safety.”
“Naturally. Fragile little Omegas do need protection. Thank you,” Gao Ming said.
Hanging up, he gripped the phone tightly, his eyes bloodshot with rage.
That bitch who gave birth to him — she lied to me all these years!
If he’d known Gao Tu was an Omega who could go into heat, he’d have found plenty of ways to make money off him long ago.
After all — what Alpha wouldn’t want to try out a high-class, well-educated Omega who serviced S-class Alphas in luxury venues?