FOBTS CH54

Chapter 54: What Trouble Can’t You Handle?

[Jian Yuheng]: w

[Jian Yuheng]: I appeared in a crowded park hugging a pillow, shattering the tranquil dream of the morning.

Song Ruochen: “?”

You’re quite the poetic villain, huh.

[Jian Yuheng]: Asleep yet? As the culprit, can you even sleep?

[Song Ruochen]: So early… the evil young master’s out for a morning workout?

[Jian Yuheng]: You’ve been calling me “evil young master” all along—it’s not an accent, is it?

[Song Ruochen] recalled a message.

[Jian Yuheng]: I’ve been at it for nearly twenty years, and lately, I’ve been climbing stairs for over three months.

[Jian Yuheng]: It’s good for health and physique.

Song Ruochen: “…”

Shut up.

The mention of physique instantly brought back last night’s dream—that fierce alpha demanding emotional repayment, solid as a rock, immovable no matter how hard he kicked.

When he woke up, he found he’d launched the grape-shaped pillow Da Zao gave him across the room, while the fuzzy monster pillow stayed obediently on the bed.

Grape pillow: “0.0..”

[Song Ruochen]: Second Young Master, I’m going to sleep. See you later.

[Jian Yuheng]: Mm, sleep well.

At his age, Song Ruochen was a master at crashing out. Eyes closed, he was asleep again.

In the park, Jian Yuheng, under the strange gazes of uncles and aunties, hugged the pillow and slipped into a grove. Once the pillow vanished, he emerged and joined the morning joggers.

Song Ruochen only said he didn’t want to marry any alpha, not that he didn’t want him.

Alphas and omegas all end up marrying eventually. Stay competitive, and there’d be a chance.

Jian Yuheng flashed an optimistic smile.

Two hours later, a business van picked up Jian Yuheng and Song Ruochen on the way to the airport, speeding along.

“Crispy shaomai, fried dumplings, and soy milk,” Jian Yuheng handed over breakfast. “The shaomai’s stuffed with pine nut and roast duck—the pine’s fragrance wraps around the duck’s crispiness.”

“Eat up, Secretary Song,” Jian Yuheng said. “Ensuring the secretary’s survival is one of a president’s basic duties. You’re practically Xiaoshi’s face, so when you’re fed and hydrated, Xiaoshi looks better too.”

“Then I’ll nibble a bit,” Song Ruochen said.

The man said it was for survival, after all.

The villain’s side was dangerously alluring.

After eating and wiping his hands, Song Ruochen got to work as a secretary. He opened his laptop and briefed Jian Yuheng on the week’s news.

“Multiple hot air balloons themed around Xiaoshi’s president and his wife’s love story spotted in A City’s suburbs. Netizens are snapping photos and checking in,” Song Ruochen read. “?”

This city’s gonna turn into Pain City soon.

“Haochi Group’s annual gala ad campaign criticized for being out-of-touch and downright grim?” Song Ruochen read. “Hahaha, how spooky is it? Lemme seesee.”

Song Ruochen clicked the video.

[Hahahaha, I’m here for the laughs too.]

[…]

[@Song Ruochen, don’t watch. It’s bad press.]

Song Ruochen: “…”

A furniture brand’s bed was dragged under the stage, bestselling blankets hung mid-air, dim lighting set a cozy vibe, TV screens flickered to show appliance quality, BGM featured the brand’s car engine roar with ethereal effects, and the floor was littered with red candy wrappers to flaunt stellar sales.

Wasn’t this the brilliant plan he’d stayed up all night crafting?

They stole it, untouched?!

Bai Cai, you dog.

“It’s fine… these tabloid writers love to exaggerate. Tasteless hacks,” Jian Yuheng said, consoling him against his better judgment as Song Ruochen looked down. “Great art’s often ahead of its time. The masses don’t always get it.”

Boom! Thunder rumbled outside.

Jian Yuheng: “?”

Is it the season for lightning now?

Come to think of it, when Secretary Song handled things, didn’t it make even their own side quake? A chaotic charm that spared no one.

“No worries, Second Boss,” Song Ruochen said. “I’m not creatively blocked. Hand me the ad department’s next plan too.”

Jian Yuheng: “…”

No, no, no.

Just slack off.

Outsource more, create jobs—that’s a win.

Boom! The thunder outside the car window kept stubbornly roaring.

—

At Nanchi Group, some were loudly scheming.

President Tong Hao was livid, roaring with fury.

“What’s with you guys? What’s up with this ad campaign?” Tong Hao snapped. “You promised it’d crush Xiao Shi without fail!”

“This plan… President Tong,” a subordinate said, “in terms of creativity, it’s honestly beyond human brains.”

Tong Hao: “…”

“Calm down, President Tong,” Subordinate No. 2 said. “We did snag Xiaoshi’s plan for tomorrow night’s launch. By beating them to it, they’ll have to scrap it.”

“Xiaoshi’s ready-to-go plan was this?” Tong Hao mused. “This creativity’s out to kill. Who’s the mastermind?”

“Xiaoshi’s president’s secretary, Song Ruochen,” the subordinate said. “Should we post something blasting Xiaoshi’s trash plan and say it’s not our fault?”

Tong Hao: “…”

This trash—nobody forced you to treat it like treasure and serve it up.

Their own people went through hell to steal it like it was gold. Now they’re saying it’s bad? Can’t exactly return it.

“Forget it,” Tong Hao said. “Tell Bai Cai to keep watching. Don’t get exposed. From now on, we don’t touch anything Song Ruochen makes.”

Even dogs wouldn’t want it.

Tong Hao: “And keep an eye on Bai Cai. Make sure he doesn’t get second—or third—thoughts.”

—

The plane landed in O City, and the reconnected system pinged Song Ruochen with updates—

[Little Grape, Xiaoshi’s business luck inexplicably spiked.]

[Rewind coin pouch credited with 20 minutes.]

Song Ruochen, who’d done nothing: “?”

[Choosing the right person beats hard work. With Secretary Song, Xiaoshi’s like a tractor soaring in the sky.]

Song Ruochen raised both hands and knocked his head, trying to whack the system.

Jian Yuheng happened to turn and catch the scene.

“Is Secretary Song making a heart at me?” Jian Yuheng’s lips curved slightly.

Song Ruochen: “Evil Young Master, don’t talk nonsense.”

Evil Young Master: “…”

“I wouldn’t make a heart at him for anything,” Song Ruochen told the system.

[(Head full of bruises.jpg) Comparing sizes?]

“Aaagh!” Song Ruochen went wild with “heart-making” gestures.

Jian Yuheng pushed two suitcases, one big, one small, and led Song Ruochen to the car.

O City was in the south, warm. Song Ruochen shed the white down jacket Jujube bought, revealing a flashy black sweater and a cool silver chain necklace from Furry Monster.

Jian Yuheng stole a glance, then another, his eyes getting a full workout.

“Xiao Jian,” Song Ruochen tilted his chin, “tell me about O City’s branch.”

Jian Yuheng: “Sure.”

Jian Yuheng: “…?”

Not his imagination—this monkey’s been getting cockier lately, hasn’t he?

“The O City branch was established later, so the overall vibe is younger. Compared to the A City headquarters and B City branch, the management team is relatively youthful,” Jian Yuheng said. “The upside is they’re full of ideas and execute well. The downside is they’re not that close to headquarters and tend to go rogue on projects.”

“Got it,” Song Ruochen said. “Newborn calves aren’t afraid of tigers.”

“Your pronunciation of ‘newborn’ is off, isn’t it?” Jian Yuheng teased.

[(Eyes shifting, whistling.jpg)]

“This branch was previously managed by Xiang Cai, who’s a bit old-school and made a couple of bad calls,” Jian Yuheng continued. “So now, some employees here think they should follow headquarters’ lead, while others…”

“Have gone from gray to black on headquarters?” Secretary Song quipped sharply.

Jian Yuheng: “…”

“Headquarters isn’t thrilled with Xiang Cai either. I’m here to take control of the branch’s projects myself,” Jian Yuheng said. “Xiang Cai’s picked up on the management’s discontent and is planning to team up with Nan Chi.”

Jian Yuheng explained in detail, and Song Ruochen got the picture.

“Second Young Master, soar with confidence,” Song Ruochen said. “I’ll do my best to have your back.”

Jian Yuheng: “…”

Hiss.

—

The business van stopped at the hotel. Jian Yuheng pushed two suitcases and led Song Ruochen up to the top floor.

“Rest in your room for a bit,” Jian Yuheng said. “The branch is holding an exhibition tonight. We’ll go check out their work. There’s ice cream.”

Song Ruochen: “Got it, Second Young Master.”

Time to slip into his original Secretary Song skin.

He dragged his suitcase, swiped the door open, and was about to close it when Jian Yuheng took a step forward, sliding smoothly through the gap.

Song Ruochen: “0.o?”

“Sell me an alpha suppressant,” Jian Yuheng said.

“Sure, no charge,” Song Ruochen said generously, lifting his cool black sweater. “Pick one you like, Second Young Master.”

Top-notch suppressant stash, right?

Jian Yuheng: “…”

The tall alpha crouched down, his fingers brushing the silver chain hanging from Song Ruochen’s cool black pants, where a string of tiny vials dangled.

A few months ago, he’d never have imagined himself rifling through an omega’s waist chain for suppressants.

Is this calm, composed craziness contagious?

Still, Song Ruochen, obediently holding his sweater in his mouth and playing on his phone with both hands raised, was oddly… human for once.

Jian Yuheng poked around for two minutes but didn’t find a familiar brand. Whatever—suppressants were suppressants. Any would do.

He plucked one labeled for alphas.

“All set. See you later,” Jian Yuheng said.

Song Ruochen, mid-game, still holding his sweater: “Mmhmhm.”

“Don’t catch a cold.” Jian Yuheng tugged the sweater from his mouth and pulled it back down.

As he closed the door, his mother Rong Xin’s words echoed in his mind—

“Planning to marry a truckload of suppressants?”

Guess it was Mom’s blessing.

If he married Song Ruochen, the guy would come with a truckload of suppressants anyway.

His susceptible period wasn’t too obvious yet—just a faint hawthorn scent leaking out occasionally. Jian Yuheng pocketed the suppressant for now.

Taking it too early would weaken the effect. He’d wait for the hawthorn explosion.

—

In the next room, Song Ruochen’s hand slipped, and his game character’s ultimate move smashed right into Jujube.

Was it the alpha’s grip or his overly sensitive waist? When Jian Yuheng pressed the sweater down, his waist went soft, and his back thumped against the wall.

“Little Grape’s awesome,” Yan Ci’s voice came through the game. “Saving the ultimate just for me to admire.”

“Big Grape, he’s mocking you. So shady,” Meng Yumian said.

“I’m not!” Yan Ci said. “Little Grape dies at my feet. He trusts me.”

“Stop bickering,” Song Ruochen unmuted. “Hurry up and fight. I wanna nap after this.”

“You living alone, Grape?” Meng Yumian asked.

Song Ruochen: “?”

What else would he be doing?

The voice channel filled with disappointed murmurs.

“I drew another picture,” Meng Yumian said. “Check DMs.”

Yan Ci: “Hehehe, I’m here.”

After the match, Song Ruochen dozed off to the sound of “Secretary Song’s reputation -1-1-1” notifications.

—

At 7 p.m., original-skin Secretary Song and Jian Yuheng were led by branch general manager Chu Jiu to the exhibition venue.

“They prepped this one in a rush, but the details are solid,” Chu Jiu said. “I’ll show you around, Second Young Master. If you spot any issues, just let me know.”

Chu Jiu was one of Jian Yuheng’s allies. He gave a tour, introduced the branch staff, and shared plenty of intel.

After the tour, a branch executive approached Jian Yuheng for a chat.

Song Ruochen slipped away, heading to the second floor for the ice cream he’d spotted earlier.

Passing an AI exhibit, he was drawn to a small robot on display.

“I need a money-making robot,” Song Ruochen said. “One that spits cash when I write a number.”

[Tame an ATM?]

Song Ruochen was about to keep bantering with the system when he heard his name.

Behind him, a few branch employees were chatting—

“Wow, didn’t expect Little President Jian to be so young,” Employee One said. “Such a handsome alpha. Headquarters sent a good one this time. Maybe he’s more capable than the old fogies before.”

“Really? Is that Secretary Song Ruochen with Little President Jian?” Employee Two said. “He’s gorgeous, totally fits my idea of a cool beauty. With a secretary like that, work efficiency must be sky-high.”

“Haha, if I were Jian Yuheng, I’d be thrilled to death,” Employee Three said flippantly. “I’d just boss him around, play with the pretty secretary, dump all the work on him. With Song’s looks and figure, there’s gotta be plenty of ways to have fun. I’d rather…”

The group let out a round of sleazy laughter.

Song Ruochen: “0.o?”

Who’s this overgrown placenta talking?

“What’re you thinking?” Song Ruochen spoke up. “How would you play? Let me hear it.”

The laughter stopped. Employee Three spun around, shocked to see the subject of their gossip standing right behind them.

“S-Secretary Song…” The three employees hurriedly bowed their heads.

“Can’t I listen?” Song Ruochen asked.

“Sorry, Secretary Song,” Employee One jumped in to apologize. “He was just joking.”

“So funny, why not joke about your own parents?” Song Ruochen asked.

Employee Three, surnamed Jia, said, “I’m sorry, Secretary Song. I spoke out of line.”

His rank was far below Song Ruochen’s. He’d made the joke because he couldn’t stand an omega holding such a high position.

But he’d led a project before. Surely a mere secretary couldn’t do much just because of a few comments.

“Talking about speaking out of line when you haven’t even learned to speak human?” Song Ruochen said.

Jia: “…”

“Secretary Song, I’m still working…” Jia’s face burned with embarrassment.

“Oh, you’re working,” Song Ruochen raised his voice. “I thought you were about to get neutered with some stray dog, so you’re squeezing in some wild fantasies while you still can.”

Jia tried to argue: “I…”

Song Ruochen’s clipboard slapped onto the floor.

Song Ruochen: “Hmph.”

[Ding-dong.]

Song Ruochen’s clipboard smacked Jia’s face, and the branch’s ad flyers fluttered down onto him.

All eyes turned their way. The usually cocky Jia was red-faced with humiliation.

“Thrilled to death yet?” Song Ruochen asked coldly.

He turned and left to hunt down his oversized ice cream.

[How dare they anger our Little Grape!]

[How dare they covet our Little Grape! That’s a death sentence!]

“Exactly. And he had the nerve to say all the work gets dumped on the secretary,” Song Ruochen said. “Is he even human?”

[…]

He grabbed his ice cream and headed downstairs, where Jian Yuheng had just finished talking with Chu Jiu.

“Rest assured, President Jian,” Manager Chu said. “I’ll fully support you taking over the projects.”

Jian Yuheng: “Manager Chu’s a sensible man.”

Jiu’s phone screen lit up. He glanced down.

Jiu: “…”

He looked at Jian Yuheng, then at the seemingly quiet, obedient secretary beside him, suddenly fidgeting.

“Let’s wrap up for today,” Jian Yuheng said. “Please notify everyone, Manager Chu: tomorrow afternoon’s meeting is mandatory. I’ll share my plans directly there.”

“Got it,” Jiu said.

“Let’s go, Second Young Master,” Song Ruochen said, finishing his ice cream. “Back we go.”

“Alright,” Jian Yuheng said.

Jiu frowned, watching their backs for a moment, feeling some things shouldn’t be left unsaid.

As suit-clad Jian Yuheng and white-shirted original-skin Secretary Song left, they drew plenty of stares in the lobby.

Jian Yuheng found it odd. He hadn’t even started shaking things up, yet the looks he got had shifted from “annoyed” and “disdainful” to “a hint of respect and awe.”

What, had someone cleaned up the branch for him already?

His phone buzzed with a message from Jiu.

[Manager Chu]: Coo coo coo coo (an embellished account).

Jian Yuheng: “…?”

No wonder there’d been a brief rewind while he was sipping tea earlier.

This bunch was weaker than he’d thought—too scared to take him on, so they targeted his secretary.

[Jian Yuheng]: Noted. See you at tomorrow’s meeting.

[Jian Yuheng]: The branch is bloated with uneven quality. Those with poor conduct that could harm Xiao Shi’s image—after tomorrow’s meeting, we’ll need to cut a few.

[Jian Yuheng]: Please handle the aftermath, Manager Chu.

[Manager Chu]: …

[Jian Yuheng]: Cleanup details 🙂 Shortened to aftermath.

—

The hotel wasn’t far from the venue, so Jian Yuheng opted to walk.

The alpha and omega set off, gradually stretching into alpha… … … omega.

Jian Yuheng: “…Song Ruochen, speed up. There’s a shop nearby with tasty cakes.”

The alpha and omega hurried along.

“Where?” Song Ruochen asked.

“Almost there.” Jian Yuheng led the way, finding a small cake shop tucked in a mall corner.

The shop was about to close, with one tiny cake left. Jian Yuheng bought it for Song Ruochen.

Song Ruochen: “:D”

Such a small cake—two bites max. Wonder if it’s good.

“Your late-night snack,” Jian Yuheng said.

“Second Young Master having a snack?” Song Ruochen showed rare consideration.

Second Young Master didn’t eat cake. He decided to head back and take a suppressant shot—his susceptible period was clearly kicking in.

Song Ruochen had a genetic condition, so susceptible Jian Yuheng couldn’t recklessly get close.

“See ya, Second Young Master.” Song Ruochen carried his little cake back to his room.

Jian Yuheng exhaled, touching the suppressant Song Ruochen gave him, steadying himself. Leaning against his closed door, he felt his pheromones spiraling out of control.

The irritability and anger of his susceptible period hit harder than any before.

He gripped the suppressant but had no urge to inject it. He wanted to barge into the next room, drag his little secretary out, pin him close, mark him with his scent, and make everyone coveting him back off.

The walking hawthorn shuffled to the desk, rolling up his sleeves.

Don’t inject. There’s fresh grape next door.

Inject now. What’re you waiting for? Grape gave you this.

“Stop arguing,” Jian Yuheng said to the air.

He popped the suppressant’s cap and jabbed it into his arm.

The pain snapped some sense back. No genetic condition was a blessing—he felt the heat fading.

Those less-than-charming thoughts about omegas morphed and hid in his mind.

Jian Yuheng let out a long breath.

Done.

Suppressed.

[Ding-dong.]

Jian Yuheng (steaming head version): “…?”

R-Rewound? Huh?

Jian Yuheng grabbed the suppressant and stabbed it into his arm again.

He cooled down once more.

[Ding-dong.]

Jian Yuheng (heating-up version): “…”

He felt like certain cities in certain seasons—thermometer plunging, then spiking.

The wild swings were good for—

Stop!

Jian Yuheng (flame supreme version) stood, fed up, and swiped the spare keycard to barge into the next room.

At the dining table, Song Ruochen was gazing lovingly at his little cake when the alpha’s entrance startled him.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with hawthorn scent, soaking him.

“What’s up?” Song Ruochen asked.

“What trouble can’t you handle now?” Jian Yuheng hauled him up for a lecture.

“Uh…” Song Ruochen’s eyes blinked twice, guilt creeping in.

“This… cake you got me is pretty good. Wanted to eat it twice,” Song Ruochen said.

Jian Yuheng: “…”

You living ancestor.

“Eat it quick,” Jian Yuheng said. “All at once.”

Song Ruochen’s gaze drifted for a second, sniffing at the hawthorn scent in the air.

Like Tom Cat chasing a scent, he inched closer to Jian Yuheng.

“Song… Chen?” Jian Yuheng reached out, stopping the sniffing Song Ruochen.

Song Ruochen: “0.0”

Grape pheromone in the air: +1% +5% +9%

“The special drug can suppress his heat,” Meng Yumian had said that day. “But it’ll fail against high-concentration, high-compatibility alpha pheromones.”

Oh… oh?!

Jian Yuheng fumbled for a suppressant on Song Ruochen’s waist. Not this one. Not that one either.

Wait—jab the hawthorn first or the living ancestor?!