2: Didn’t You Say You Didn’t Like Omegas?
Sheng Shaoyou had seen this Omega before—just recently.
Sheng Fang was terminally ill, living on borrowed time with expensive immune protein infusions at the best private hospital in Jianghu. That day, another critical notice had been issued.
Sheng Fang had lived a legendary life. He came from humble beginnings, rose to success young, and remained a notorious playboy. Over the years, countless men and women had shared his bed, resulting in a dozen illegitimate children.
Sheng Shaoyou’s mother had passed away while he was still in middle school.
Sheng Fang had felt guilty toward his late wife. On her deathbed, she made him swear never to remarry. He had agreed—and kept that promise, never taking another wife.
In business, Sheng Fang built everything from scratch with great ambition. In love, he was charming and gallant, surrounded by confidants, yet remained unmarried out of loyalty to his wife’s final wish.
Sheng Shaoyou had complicated feelings toward his father.
Lately, the hospital had issued increasingly frequent critical alerts. And each time, Sheng Shaoyou would drop everything to rush over.
That day was no different.
From a distance, he saw a swarm of people at the door to Sheng Fang’s hospital room.
His half-siblings crowded around crying loudly—each more dramatic than the last, performances worthy of the big screen.
Sheng Shaoyou stood expressionless at the hallway corner, coldly counting the number of siblings. He thought, How many times a year did this man have to reproduce to end up with this many illegitimate children?
His father was truly a stallion, spreading seeds wherever he went. A lifetime of indulgence, and in the end, he got a poetic punishment—pheromone gland cancer.
Probably from marking too many Omegas, betraying too many.
Poetic justice, really.
The loudest one was Sheng Shaoqing, only two years younger than Sheng Shaoyou. He stood in the hallway, eyes red, yelling, “Where’s Sheng Shaoyou? Every time Dad’s in critical condition, that guy’s the coldest one! He’s never shed a single tear! And this time he doesn’t even show up? Think just because he got the company, he can ignore whether Dad lives or dies!?”
The sting of that accusation lasted only a second before being buried under deeper indifference. Sheng Shaoyou stood with arms crossed outside the circle, like someone who’d just found a fly in their soup after finishing the meal.
Worse yet, that fly shared half his blood.
Chen Pinming saw his young boss pause and quietly called over a doctor to check on Sheng Fang’s condition.
“The chairman was in poor shape earlier, but now his vitals are stable. No need to worry.”
Hearing that, Sheng Shaoyou turned and left.
The VIP suites were on the top floor of the hospital’s inpatient wing, but instead of taking the elevator, Sheng Shaoyou chose the stairs. Like a ghost with nowhere to go, he wandered floor by floor. Chen Pinming followed closely behind, not daring to speak.
On the third floor, Sheng Shaoyou stopped again. His cold expression softened slightly, tinged with sadness.
Chen followed his gaze and held his breath. The third floor housed the pediatric ward. The walls were painted pink, adorned with cartoon animals—giraffes, zebras, and more.
Sheng Shaoyou stared at each drawing as he walked past them.
“I was hospitalized here,” he said.
Chen Pinming didn’t know how to respond, so he stayed silent and listened.
“My dad had just started his company back then, crazy busy. But the moment he heard I needed to be hospitalized, he dropped everything. Left a meeting halfway through and rushed to see me…” Sheng Shaoyou studied the adorable cartoon murals, his face still blank.
But to Chen, he looked more sorrowful than any of those weeping siblings.
“My mom was working at another company at the time, helping make ends meet. No one stayed with me during the day, but both my parents came at night. I didn’t understand things back then—thought being stuck in the hospital was like being in jail. I always begged to go out. So at night, my dad would sneak me out. The night nurse was mean, so we didn’t dare go far. Just walked the hallway. The murals weren’t this bright and detailed back then—just kids drawing with crayons. My dad would look at them and make up stories for me, one picture at a time, until I fell asleep…”
He reached out to touch one of the colorful murals, and gave a soft chuckle. “Not long after I was discharged, his long-invested research finally succeeded. He and the company both became famous across Jianghu. After that, Mom and I never really had him to ourselves again…”
Most people in this world are warm-faced and cold-hearted—doing a little, but boasting a lot.
But someone like Sheng Shaoyou, cold-faced and warm-hearted, always suffers the most in a world like this.
Chen Pinming felt awful.
As Sheng Shaoyou’s secretary, he knew better than anyone how hard the man had worked to safeguard Sheng Fang’s patents and legacy.
All of Sheng Fang’s children looked glamorous on the surface, basking in attention.
He was generous to them all, setting up massive trust funds.
They lived comfortably, free to be idle and carefree.
Only Sheng Shaoyou had to work tirelessly, bearing the burden of expanding the family’s legacy alone—suffering in ways the others could never imagine.
He was both the master and the slave of Shengfang Biotech.
Everyone inherited the family’s glory and privilege. They could choose whether to work hard or not.
Only Sheng Shaoyou had no choice.
He was born to carry the weight.
Resolute, fearless, with superhuman endurance—he did more, and did better, than anyone. But just because he didn’t cry in front of others, those who howled outside hospital rooms stood on moral high ground to condemn him, poking at his spine with criticism.
Chen Pinming resented them on his behalf. He knew his young boss wasn’t as cold as he looked. But he didn’t know how to comfort him. So he simply walked beside him in silence.
At a turn in the corridor, someone suddenly crashed into Sheng Shaoyou with great force, enough to make his chest ache and knock a cufflink loose without his notice.
“S-sorry…” the Omega stammered through sobs. His eyes and nose were red, overwhelmed with pain. Tears spilled freely down his pale cheeks. One hand clutched a phone as he said to the person on the other end, “I’ll find a way to gather the money…”
Sheng Shaoyou felt like those tears had fallen straight onto his heart, scratching at the dry, cracked place inside—stirring a faint, sour ache.
He had been taught since childhood to be strong, to be brave.
Sheng Shaoyou could fall and break a rib without shedding a tear.
He was great at enduring. But in his heart, he secretly envied those who could cry when they were hurt.
Especially if they cried so beautifully.
And now, standing in Shen Wenlang’s office, Sheng Shaoyou instantly recognized this Omega—Secretary Hua, eyes red and brimming with humiliation. It was the same Omega who had crashed into him in the hospital hallway.
Sheng Shaoyou’s open interest in the Omega clearly displeased Shen Wenlang. Unable to lash out at Sheng, he turned instead to the trembling Omega and said with a mock smile, “Hua Yong, you sure are something—already acquainted with our famous Mr. Sheng?”
So your name is Hua Yong, Sheng thought.
A name even flowers would sigh for.
Shen called Sheng “famous,” but didn’t even look at him when he said it. His eyes were locked on Hua Yong.
That damned snake. He sounded like a wolf, but he was venomous.
“You two knew each other already? And didn’t tell me? What were you hiding, huh?”
Hua Yong looked terrified and quickly denied it, “P-President Shen, I don’t know this gentleman.”
Sheng Shaoyou’s heart sank—what an ungrateful little Omega. That slap to the face snapped him out of his earlier wistful mood. He smiled faintly, “We don’t really know each other. We bumped into each other at the hospital. I was at a hallway corner, and Mr. Hua didn’t notice me.”
Realization dawned on Hua Yong. His eyes brightened. “It was you!” But seeing Shen Wenlang’s cold stare, he didn’t dare act too enthusiastic. “Sorry, I didn’t realize earlier.” Then he gave Sheng a soft smile. “That day, I truly apologize.”
Before Sheng could reply, the venomous snake spoke again, “Oh really?” He grabbed Hua Yong’s wrist, gave him a light pat on the rear, and shoved him toward Sheng. “Words aren’t enough. Go give Mr. Sheng a proper apology.”
The little Omega blushed furiously, eyes filling with tears again, a red flush blooming across his cheeks.
“That’s unnecessary,” Sheng said. “It was nothing.”
But Hua Yong didn’t dare disobey. He obediently walked over, lips tightly pressed together, and just like Gao Tu earlier, pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to Sheng with both hands.
“Good evening, Mr. Sheng. I’m Hua Yong—’hua’ as in flower, ‘yong’ as in chant.”
Sheng nodded and said “Pleasure,” but ignored his pretty white hands holding the card. He shoved his own into his pockets, walked past him, and extended a hand to Shen Wenlang. Half-jokingly he said, “Famous? I’m nothing. It’s you, President Shen, who’s always too busy to meet.”
Shen chuckled and gestured to the seat across his desk. “Please, sit.”
Sheng made himself comfortable, lounging with one arm over the chair back. The two started chatting.
Hua Yong stood awkwardly nearby, clutching his card.
Humiliation, discomfort, panic, helplessness—all shadowed his pretty face.
Chen Pinming, sympathetic, took the card from him and offered his own. “Secretary Hua, I’ll keep this for Mr. Sheng.”
Hua Yong whispered a thank you, voice restrained.
Gao Tu noticed this and told Hua, “You can go home now. I’ll stay with President Shen.”
Grateful, Hua Yong shot him a look of thanks and quickly left the office.
Shen Wenlang shot Gao Tu a cold glare for making that decision without asking, but Gao pretended not to notice.
The business conversation finally began after ten minutes of polite chitchat.
Sheng Shaoyou had barely begun presenting his acquisition proposal for HS Group when Shen Wenlang interrupted.
“This society is too impetuous. Too many so-called entrepreneurs raise their companies like pigs—fatten them up, then sell them off for cash.” He paused. “But I built HS with my own hands. It’s like my child. I’m emotionally attached…”
“I’ll offer thirty billion,” Sheng cut him off, smiling. “I’m a direct man, President Shen.”
Shen was stunned—clearly didn’t expect such straightforwardness.
It was a tempting offer, but he still shook his head. “No one sells their child just because the price is high.”
“Thirty-five billion,” Sheng added, smirking. “People don’t refuse to sell their children because they won’t sell—they just haven’t been offered a high enough price.”
“Your offer is very generous, I’m flattered,” Shen said as he poured him tea, “but unfortunately, I’m not short on money. You might be disappointed.”
Sheng expected rejection, but not such bluntness even at that price. Still, he didn’t show anger. Smiling, he said, “If even thirty-five billion can’t tempt you, the rumors must be true—President Shen is a mystery wrapped in gold.”
“Well, your company’s wealth is even more impressive. Opening with thirty-five billion? That’s bold…”
They bantered until Chen saw an opening and suggested, “If full acquisition isn’t feasible, why not form a strategic partnership? Our companies could share patent applications for the gene scissors technology—combine strengths to yield exponential results.”
This wasn’t an impromptu idea—it was Sheng’s plan B.
If acquisition failed, then deepen collaboration. As long as they could access the technology, it was only a matter of time before Shengfang mastered the applications.
Shen didn’t want to sell now—but once he bit the bait, not even 35 yuan would buy it back later.
Bastard.
Sheng smiled pleasantly. “Excellent idea. I feel like we hit it off. Joining forces would be ideal.”
Shen nodded, and Chen thought they’d succeeded—until Shen said with a smile, “Yes, I do feel a great affinity with Mr. Sheng. I’m sure we’ll be great friends. But… let’s not collaborate.”
The air turned cold.
Sheng’s smile faded. “What, HS thinks Shengfang isn’t good enough?”
“Not at all,” Shen replied, polite but venomous. “But if I recall, your gene scissors patent is expiring soon.”
He smiled smugly. “Whereas our application patent lasts for decades. We’re family, but business is business—why collaborate now?”
He was right. In five years, HS could freely use Shengfang’s expiring tech without paying a cent.
This scumbag who harassed subordinates knew exactly where to strike.
The meeting ended poorly, and Shen asked Gao Tu to escort them out.
Sheng descended with a cold face. Stepping out of the elevator, he spotted someone standing by the door on the phone. A pale shirt clung to a narrow waist outlined by the wind. Butterfly shoulder blades jutted sharply beneath thin fabric. Chestnut hair fluttered, revealing a slender nape.
Sheng’s heart skipped.
Who else could it be but Hua Yong?
“…I’ll figure out the surgery costs. Thank you for understanding…” Hua Yong hung up and leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
He looked cold, lost in thought. When Sheng walked over, face dark, Hua Yong startled and quickly stood straight.
Sheng glanced at him, then coldly walked past. But his peripheral vision caught the Omega’s tired, tearful eyes, and his nose picked up a faint orchid scent.
Tsk. This Omega sure cries a lot. Isn’t he a man? Why’s his waist so thin? I could wrap my whole arm around it…
Sheng stared secretly while pretending not to look and left without a word.
Hua Yong stood frozen again, rejected.
Chen hurried to open the car door, unable to help the poor Omega.
Hua Yong stood in the wind, watching them drive away.
So petty… but so cute.
…
“Why hasn’t Secretary Hua left yet?” Gao Tu asked.
Just now he noticed Hua standing in the wind.
Snapping out of his daze, Hua turned and smiled gratefully. “Took a call. Thank you earlier, Secretary Gao.”
“You’re welcome.” Gao paused. “I’ll try to keep you away from President Shen going forward.”
Hua blinked. “Thank you.”
“No need.”
He wasn’t entirely selfless—he was pretending to be noble.
He looked at the darkening sky, then at Hua’s fragile face. He couldn’t help asking, “Where do you live?”
Hua blinked again.
Afraid he misunderstood, Gao quickly explained, “You’re not full-time yet, so you might not know—if you work past nine, the company reimburses cab fare for full-time staff.” He regretted asking, but pushed through, “If we’re headed the same way, I can drop you off.”
The young, beautiful Omega stared at him for a moment.
Only then did Gao realize Hua was quite tall. Gao, standing at 180 cm barefoot, actually had to look up at him.
Gao’s scalp tingled.
Just when he thought Hua would reject him, the Omega’s eyes suddenly curved into a smile. He casually gave an address. “Sorry to trouble you, Secretary Gao.”
To Gao’s surprise, Hua lived close to the office.
The area around HS was prime real estate. Most new hires lived in cheaper suburbs.
From the phone call earlier, Gao had guessed Hua was struggling to cover surgery costs—so he likely didn’t have money to spare. Sheng had said they met at the hospital. Maybe Hua had a sick family member there too.
Gao grew up in the slums and had a chronically ill sister, so he understood how expensive care at that hospital was.
He felt a kind of kinship.
Hua was quiet in the cab, idly toying with a cufflink.
He was truly stunning, that sharp, piercing kind of beauty. Even Gao, who had briefly envied Shen for being able to touch him, had to admit the unfairness of fate.
Then Hua’s phone rang. The screen lit up: “Shen Wenlang.”
A stab to the heart.
Gao couldn’t stop himself from listening closely.
Hua answered. Shen’s voice came through muffled.
Gao held his breath but couldn’t catch the words. Shen spoke at length.
Eventually, Hua replied, “I understand.”
Noticing Gao’s intense gaze in the rearview mirror, Hua looked up.
Gao quickly looked away.
Hua didn’t mind and smiled at him.
But Gao didn’t return the look. His eyes fell to his reflection in the window.
Just an ordinary face. Thin lips, long eyes, black-framed glasses. A forgettable, straight-laced expression. Like a supermarket cake—decent, mass-produced, unremarkable.
Nowhere near Hua Yong’s beauty.
But… didn’t he say… he didn’t like Omegas?