FOBTS CH57

Chapter 57: Voice

Jian Yuheng had never been drenched in such scalding rain in his life.

Not only was he soaked by rain, but he was also doused by a person.

Live long enough, and the heavens might just drop anything on you.

And yet, the culprit behind this mess was engaging in something akin to covering their ears to steal a bell—like using wet paws to paw at his face.

“Covering my eyes… does that make the dampness disappear?” Jian Yuheng asked.

Song Ruochen, in a flurry of panic, blurted out, “I’ll blow you dry.”

Song Ruochen transformed into the northwest wind: “Hoo hoo hoo!”

Jian Yuheng: “…”

The warm airflow, carrying the floral scent of body wash, brushed past his ear, gently stirring the tiny water droplets on his cheeks and hair. It cooled him down, then warmed him up again.

This [Ding Ding Dang Dang]—was it retaining its state while rewinding?

So this was… grabbing a freshly-bathed grape?

Wow, the rain before him wasn’t rain—it was bathwater.

No wonder there was a floral fragrance, mixed with the sweet-tart grape flavor, pulling him into a fragrant orchard in a second.

Song Ruochen: “Hoo hoo hoo… hoo… hoo.”

Like an autumn breeze, it turned a hillside of hawthorns red.

“Hoo hoo.” The small gust left his neck and started blowing at the soaked clothes on Jian Yuheng’s chest.

Half-kneeling, half-crawling on the alpha’s lap, the diligent Song Ruochen suddenly froze.

Song Ruochen: “…?”

Jian Yuheng: “.”

Song Ruochen: “…”

Something hard, audacious—what was that dead weight? It was pressing against him.

[***.]

Song Ruochen: “Huh?”

A cacophony of muttering, quacking, and squawking in countless languages flashed through Song Ruochen’s mind.

Then—

[Ding Dang]

He rewound a few seconds for Jian Yuheng, scrambling off him in a tumble, grabbing a blanket to wrap himself up.

Jian Yuheng slowly opened his eyes, his flattened lips looking like they had a story they couldn’t tell.

Your friend Song Ruochen has used the “One-Click Asceticism” function on you, bringing you back from the clouds to reality.

Dripping wet, Jian Yuheng sat up from the sofa, just in time to see Song Ruochen on the adjacent sofa, bundling himself in the blanket.

The blanket wasn’t big enough, covering only Song Ruochen’s head and upper body. He sat with his knees drawn up, the blanket half-concealing his long, fair legs.

Song Ruochen stole a sideways glance at Jian Yuheng, then another not-so-sideways glance, his eyes sweeping over the other’s waist. Song Ruochen was utterly shocked.

“Now it’s ‘Ding Dang,’” Song Ruochen whispered. “Not ‘Ding Ding Dang Dang’ anymore.”

Why was that reaction still there?

“I didn’t touch you this time,” the shadowy Song Ruochen said, trying to clear his name.

“Yes, I came up with it myself,” Jian Yuheng smiled. “Is it possible that while your brain can rewind, mine can replay?”

[It’s not called a “brain,” you know.]

Song Ruochen’s face flushed red. Replay… what?

Was there anything just now worth watching on repeat?

“Forget it,” Jian Yuheng sighed, resigned. “You rew—”

[Ding Dang.]

Splash! A wave of water poured from the sky, drenching Jian Yuheng’s head.

“Is your bathwater always this hot?” Jian Yuheng couldn’t hold back.

Song Ruochen: “It’s… it’s fine, I guess…”

He liked it hot, the kind that steamed up, so he could lean on the edge of the tub, dazed and comfortable.

What had just happened was a bit hard to explain, and both of them fell into a brief, mutual awkward silence.

Two soggy people sat on a soggy sofa, waiting to cool off.

“Brother Hawthorn, should we call someone to clean up?” Song Ruochen asked.

“How do we explain this?” Jian Yuheng said. “That you and your bathwater fell from the sky?”

Song Ruochen: “Uh…”

Since this bath was already wasted, might as well rewind a bit further.

Song Ruochen: “3, 2, 1, launch.”

[Ding Dang.]

Jian Yuheng stood behind Song Ruochen, holding a medicine bottle, a cotton ball pressed against the omega’s fragile nape.

Song Ruochen: “Ow ow ow!”

He was back.

“The cake’s in that blue box,” Jian Yuheng said, deftly putting away the bottle.

Song Ruochen got his cake, and Jian Yuheng got to admire several limited-edition grapes. Everyone was happy.

“That was a new feature just now?” Jian Yuheng asked.

“Mm-hmm,” Song Ruochen said. “It can teleport in its original state.”

It’s just that the clothing detection was absurdly off.

Speaking of which, was that the gym version of Second Young Master teleported over? Wearing a black gym tank top, no less.

“Your physique is really nice,” Song Ruochen said. “Muscles on your arms, muscles on your forearms, muscles on your abs, even muscles in your little brain.”

Jian Yuheng: “?”

Was that a compliment or an insult?

Song Ruochen sighed enviously.

And… that thing just now—was that a size humans were supposed to have?

Novels were too conservative in their descriptions!

“Around this time, I think I have a call…” Jian Yuheng mused.

Sure enough, his phone rang.

“Hey, Mom,” Jian Yuheng answered.

Rong Xin: “You…”

“Yes, on a business trip,” Jian Yuheng said. “In O City.”

Rong Xin: “You…”

“Yes, the branch office,” Jian Yuheng said. “Taking back real control.”

Rong Xin: “You…”

“No, Gong Huo went to B City,” Jian Yuheng said. “I came to O City with Secretary Song.”

“I haven’t even spoken yet!” Rong Xin snapped. “Where did you learn to predict the future?”

“Hahaha,” Song Ruochen couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“In the same room as Secretary Song?” Rong Xin caught the laugh.

“Mm,” Jian Yuheng said. “Discussing some… work-related matters. Yes, Secretary Song is very capable, great at… handling issues.”

Outside, the storm raged, thunder and lightning crashing.

Song Ruochen lowered his head, cheeks warm. Since earlier, it seemed they hadn’t done a single work-related thing.

They’d been doing everything else.

“It’s already evening. You’re an alpha; you need to avoid suspicion,” Rong Xin’s voice came through. “Secretary Song has a 100% compatible alpha. As his boss, you need to keep your distance.”

Jian Yuheng: “?”

I’m standing right in front of you.

Rong Xin: “Your dad says…”

“Dad wants me to bring back some O City tea, right?” Jian Yuheng said. “No problem, got it. I’m hanging u—”

“Wait,” Rong Xin said. “Can you predict next year’s stock market trends?”

“No,” Jian Yuheng hung up quickly.

He couldn’t give the grape any ideas, or he’d be rewound back to the cradle, living out a CEO-reborn-as-a-genius-three-year-old storyline.

“Chenchen, eat slowly. I’m heading back to my room,” Jian Yuheng waved. “Tomorrow night, there’s an awards ceremony in O City, co-sponsored by Xiaoshi and Haoxiang. Come with me.”

“Okay, Xiao Jian (munch munch),” Song Ruochen said.

—

After some less-than-thorough mental deliberation, Song Ruochen decided the awards ceremony wasn’t too formal, so he went with casual clothes.

The next evening, he chose a cool black sweater gifted by a friend, accompanying Jian Yuheng, who was in a sharp black suit, to the venue.

The moment Song Ruochen stepped into the event space, he got a message from Yan Ci—

[Yan Ci]: 0.0.

[Yan Ci]: Have you already forgotten me?

[Song Ruochen]: Nope, my lady.

[Song Ruochen]: I’m quietly and profoundly remembering you.

Song Ruochen scanned the area, spotted the live camera, and walked over, flashing the ring on his hand at the lens.

[Yan Ci]: 0.0*

[Yan Ci]: That ring suits your finger so well. My taste is impeccable.

Song Ruochen looked at his hand—five fingers, three rings, three silver-white butterfly wings with diamonds, big, medium, and small. He wasn’t sure if they looked good, but they’d probably hurt if he threw a punch.

Jian Yuheng, not watching for a few minutes, noticed his secretary wasn’t by his side. He looked up and saw Song Ruochen flexing his fingers in front of the camera.

Jian Yuheng: “…”

Secretary Song, when idle, wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Song Ruochen balanced the day’s water, sitting with Jian Yuheng in the audience.

“Mr. Jian, Secretary Song, would you like something to drink?” a staff member from the organizer approached.

“Fruit juice for him,” Jian Yuheng said. “I’ll have a red… never mind, fruit juice for me too.”

Didn’t want to tempt the grape.

“Right away,” the staff said.

“When I got drunk, did I do something to you?” Song Ruochen tilted his head.

“…You held a cup of boiling water, smashed it, rewound, and smashed it again,” Jian Yuheng said.

Song Ruochen: “And you?”

Jian Yuheng: “I went in and out of your house three times.”

Song Ruochen: “…”

The red carpet hadn’t started yet, and many invited celebrities and influencers were waiting nearby.

Lu Yunye, having just signed his name in a corner, overheard two minor influencers gossiping about Song Ruochen.

“Xiaoshi’s secretary—I’d heard about him before,” one said. “He just sits there, and half the people on stage look ordinary by comparison.”

“My relative works in Xiaoshi’s branch R&D department,” the other said. “They say Secretary Song’s work ability is top-notch. A rare talent.”

Lu Yunye: “…”

Pfft, pfft, pfft.

If Lu Yunye hadn’t met him before, he might’ve believed it.

Secretary Song was just a nutcase, forcing him to film some crazy drama and even slapping him over a few packets of snacks.

Pfft, pfft, pfft. Bad luck.

Ten minutes later, the red carpet event began, and Song Ruochen sat beside Jian Yuheng, watching curiously.

“Second Young Master,” Song Ruochen poked Jian Yuheng, pointing at the stage. “That alpha hunk up there—what works has he done?”

Jian Yuheng: “?”

Sour Hawthorn opened a streaming app, typed in a name, and hit search.

Song Ruochen: “Hm?”

His ear tickled as Jian Yuheng slipped a wireless earbud into it. The alpha’s neatly trimmed fingertip lightly grazed his ear, sending a warm flush to his cheeks.

He didn’t quite catch what song was playing through the earbud.

Calmly, Song Ruochen stared straight ahead, pretending to listen to music while casually watching the red carpet.

After a few high-profile celebrities, lesser-known stars took the stage. Lu Yunye appeared during this quieter moment.

The audience below, mostly there for the earlier stars, wasn’t very enthusiastic when he stepped up.

Walking a red carpet without an audience was awkward, and Lu Yunye’s confidence waned with each step.

Fine, he thought. Let this be his last dazzling moment in the entertainment industry. Time to retire.

Just then, he noticed the small secretary next to the tall alpha in the audience looking his way.

Song Ruochen’s lips curved slightly, and he raised his hand, waving at him. The three butterfly-wing rings on his fingers glinted silver-white.

Lu Yunye: “QvQ”

There was an audience—one, at least.

Lu Yunye perked up, facing the camera with full energy, smiling so hard it was like he was posing for a life-defining photo.

Until he saw Song Ruochen pointing at the celebratory cake on stage.

“Grab a piece,” Song Ruochen mouthed. “Grab a piece!”

Lu Yunye: “…”

Annoyed to the point of numbness, Lu Yunye walked over, pushed a sliced piece of cake toward Song Ruochen, pulled a mint candy from his pocket, tossed it at him, and left the stage.

“When did you two get so chummy?” Jian Yuheng asked.

“I’ve stored some of my ambitions in him,” Song Ruochen said.

Jian Yuheng: “Sure it’s not revenge?”

“My short drama will sell like hotcakes,” Song Ruochen said confidently.

Jian Yuheng: “What does the person in question say?”

He glanced at the shell-shocked Lu Yunye. Yep, the “deceased” seemed emotionally stable for now.

After the red carpet came the awards ceremony’s banquet segment. Song Ruochen held a glass of fruit juice, trailing Jian Yuheng. The latter handled socializing while he handled tasting.

As guests mingled, some conversations turned to others. Wandering around, Song Ruochen picked out Jian Yuheng’s name from the chatter.

“Young Mr. Jian rarely shows up at these events, right? He’s so young and in great shape,” someone said.

“I heard he was a top student when he studied abroad, and he was in the school’s tennis club,” another added.

“Mm-hmm, what else?” Song Ruochen prompted.

The speakers: “?”

Jian Yuheng turned around—his secretary had vanished again. With no choice, he followed the secretary instead.

And there was Secretary Song, listening to people gossip about him.

Tch, couldn’t these people get their stories straight? Better not say anything unflattering.

Jian Yuheng began reflecting on his life—more good than bad, hopefully, enough to—

Oh, a message on his phone.

Jian Yuheng opened it.

[Jian Feng]: [Voice]

[Jian Feng]: [Long Voice]

[Jian Feng]: 0.0.

[Jian Feng]: [Voice]

Jian Yuheng tapped play, holding the phone to his ear.

Huh, was Big Bro muted? Why no sound?

Song Ruochen, engrossed in hearing about Jian Yuheng’s life from strangers, suddenly heard Jian Feng’s voice through his Bluetooth earbud.

“Little Brother, tea. I want some too,” came the short version.

“Little Brother, O City’s tea is famous. Bring back an extra portion—your sister-in-law and I both want to try it,” came the expanded version.

Song Ruochen blinked, one eye bigger than the other in confusion.

Earlier, when listening to music, Jian Yuheng had put the earbud in for him, and he hadn’t taken it out. Now the voice message was playing in his ear.

He was about to remove the earbud to call Second Young Master when Yan Ci’s voice came through.

“Little Brother, Little Brother,” Yan Ci said cheerfully. “You and Secretary Song are dressed like you’re in couple’s outfits.”

[Rewind Coin Pouch credited: 1 minute.]

“Little Brother, follow my lead,” Yan Ci directed happily. “Get closer—hold his hand!”

[Rewind Coin Pouch credited: 3 minutes.]

Song Ruochen: “…?”