FOBTS CH61

Chapter 61: Don’t Want to Go on a Date with Me?

Song Ruochen watched in disbelief as Jian Feng pulled out his phone and started… recording.

Song Ruochen: “?”

Hold on, First Young Master, is your side gig journalism?

[You seem to have been used as a scoring tool.]

[What a turn of the tables.]

Taking advantage of his shock, Jian Yuheng swiftly claimed the empty seat beside him, blocking any hope of Song Ruochen returning to the fuzzy-zao-grape zone.

Song Ruochen: “Sys…”

Jian Yuheng produced a chocolate crispy cake. “My moves just now were so smooth, I didn’t leave you any rewind landing point. If you rewind, we’d have to restart the demonstration from somewhere.”

That makes sense, Song Ruochen thought.

[Don’t be so easily convinced, hey!]

“Want one for your friends?” Jian Yuheng conjured another cake.

[Thanks for the treat!]

“You can eat cake?” Song Ruochen asked, stunned.

[Picking it up for the boss system to eat!]

“Alright, patients… ahem, trainees,” Dr. Yuan Zhong said from the stage. “Next, we’ll demonstrate how to handle an alpha’s susceptibility period emergency.”

Dr. Yuan: “Let’s start the draw…”

“Teacher”, Song Ruochen raised his hand, “I think we should give the most enthusiastic hand-raiser from earlier a chance.”

Bai Cai’s face paled.

“Alright,” Dr. Yuan said. “This gentleman, Deputy Director Bai, you’re up.”

Bai Cai: “…”

“AOs have different physical attributes, so their aggression and danger levels vary,” Dr. Yuan explained. “Thus, the handling methods differ.”

Dr. Yuan: “Normally, isolating the alpha from the crowd is sufficient.”

“Teacher,” Song Ruochen raised his hand again, “Books cover normal cases. I want to see extreme cases.”

Bai Cai: “You…”

“Sure. In extreme cases, a deranged alpha may need to be knocked back to their senses before being injected with an inhibitor,” Dr. Yuan said. “Anyone want to assist Deputy Director Bai?”

The entire advertising department raised their hands.

“Deputy Director Cai,” Song Ruochen said, “You’re quite ‘popular.’”

Bai Cai’s face turned red with anger.

Jian Yuheng lounged back in his chair, watching his little secretary peck at his target.

Thanks to the hugging and carrying during the earlier drill, quite a few people in the hall were sneaking glances at them. Song Ruochen clearly noticed, sitting straighter than usual and eating more delicately.

Fearing Bai Cai might get pummeled to death, Dr. Yuan called up the seemingly harmless Meng Yumian to demonstrate.

Meng Yumian, in his wheelchair, rammed into Bai Cai repeatedly.

“Young Master,” Song Ruochen elbowed Jian Yuheng, “I’ve got an idea. What if we invent inhibitor boxing gloves? One punch—critical hit plus suppression. Or an inhibitor collar—crazy alpha bites it and gets zapped awake.”

“You’re a secretary,” Jian Yuheng said. “Don’t take on the Minister of Justice’s job.”

“No one’s doing this?” Song Ruochen said. “I, Song Ruochen, could invest in this project.”

[Rewind CoinPouch credited with 3 minutes.]

“President Jian,” Song Ruochen turned, “Turn off the livestream.”

Jian Feng: “Oh, right.”

“By the way,” Song Ruochen leaned close to Jian Yuheng’s ear, whispering, “What’s the plan for dealing with Bai Cai?”

“Soon,” Jian Yuheng said.

Song Ruochen had been enjoying chatting with Jian Yuheng lately. The alpha was much taller, but he’d lean down slightly when speaking, using simple terms—none of that “quack-quack-gaga” jargon—easy for anyone to understand.

“Xiaoshi will properly punish the benefactor who stole Secretary Song’s proposal,” Jian Yuheng said.

Song Ruochen: “Benefactor?”

“Enemy. Secretary Song misheard,” Jian Yuheng corrected.

When did Second Young Master pick up this nonsense-talking skill?

Song Ruochen’s gaze drifted, landing on the subtle movement of the alpha’s Adam’s apple.

The sunset’s dappled light streamed through the window, casting shadows on Jian Yuheng.

Thirsty. Time for water.

A cup of water Jian Feng had just poured sat in front of Song Ruochen. He reached for it.

Good grief, it was boiling hot. Does President Jian not know how to pour water?

His hand shook, and a droplet splashed onto the back of his hand, scalding it red.

[Ding-dong.]

Three seconds ago.

Dr. Song healed himself.

As he placed his hand back on the table, Jian Yuheng grabbed his wrist, resting it on his leg and gently rubbing the red spot with his thumb.

Song Ruochen: “…”

What’s this? Some alpha possessiveness post-temporary marking?

Well, keep rubbing—it’s kinda nice.

“Alright, everyone,” Dr. Yuan pushed aside the battered Bai Cai. “That concludes this year’s employee training.”

Song Ruochen yanked his hand back.

Time to clock out and head home.

He grabbed the employee training gift bag and cheerfully returned home, showering as usual, popping a lollipop in his mouth, and sprawling on the sofa to watch TV.

His body was tired, but his mind was wide awake.

Huh, the night feels so long. How hadn’t he noticed before how big Secretary Song’s house was?

So boring.

In O City, he’d mixed work with play, sneaking off to nearby attractions at night, with Jian Yuheng tagging along.

Curled up on the sofa, the spot on his neck where the temporary mark lingered buzzed like a faint electric current, making him restless.

Ugh, transitioning from the liveliness of two people to a solo night—he wasn’t adjusting well.

At this hour in O City, he and Jian Yuheng would probably be at a street food stall buying grilled mushrooms.

Song Ruochen: “Sigh.”

Whatever, TV’s boring. Might as well sleep.

His phone screen lit up on the coffee table.

[Jian Yuheng]: Reporting: 30 minutes of smooth swimming (no repeats).

[Song Ruochen]: Approved.

[Jian Yuheng]: [Photo]

What’s this? Swimsuit Hawthorn Alpha?

Song Ruochen opened the image.

Oh, disappointment—it’s just a swim ring.

Wait, why am I disappointed?

[Song Ruochen]: Forward this swim ring, and your life will be as smooth as Second Young Master’s.

[Jian Yuheng]: …

[Jian Yuheng]: Secretary Song, want to learn swimming?

Song Ruochen did kind of want to, but he’d never gotten around to it.

[Jian Yuheng]: I’ve got a pool and a swim ring.

[Jian Yuheng]: And a swim coach. [Photo]

A sudden image of Hawthorn Alpha in swimwear invaded Song Ruochen’s vision.

Ugh, this guy set up all that just for this photo, didn’t he?

Great physique—long limbs, well-proportioned muscles, especially those abs, perfectly shaped. And that black swim trunk…

[Jian Yuheng]: Full teaching package, guaranteed learning.

[Jian Yuheng]: Wanna come play?

Song Ruochen: “…”

[Song Ruochen]: Maybe when I’m free.

[Jian Yuheng]: Then wouldn’t Secretary Song have to live in the pool?

[Song Ruochen]: Young Master, I’m pouring my heart out for the company.

Song Ruochen exited the chat.

Lately… he’d been pretty busy. There was the joint expo, dealing with internal traitors, and so on. He’d learn swimming once things calmed down.

Right, just swimming.

A boss teaching an employee is perfectly reasonable and expected.

Song Ruochen flopped onto the sofa, the temporary mark on his neck buzzing with presence again.

Ugh… now he really couldn’t sleep.

Song Ruochen got seriously busy.

The Fuzzy-Zao-Grape Studio, using the 3 million yuan startup fund from Furry Monster’s Weibo, recruited a rough team and created a simple, time-killing, low-effort mini-game with a barebones mechanism.

After discussing with Fuzzy Monster and Da Zao, Song Ruochen ditched traditional game distribution channels and promoted the game’s mini-program through group chats.

Soon after wrapping that up, the expo day arrived.

As the president’s secretary, Song Ruochen attended the joint expo with Jian Yuheng and Jian Feng.

City A placed great importance on the event, providing a sprawling venue that hosted numerous top-tier national companies.

The expo was split into a conference hall and an exhibition hall. Jian Feng headed to the exhibition hall, while Song Ruochen accompanied Jian Yuheng to the conference hall.

Song Ruochen: “?”

He stepped back behind Jian Yuheng.

“Sorry,” Song Ruochen said. “Got a bit too eager.”

“President Song can feel embarrassed?” Jian Yuheng adjusted his tie.

The alpha was dressed to the nines today, exuding an commanding aura. Along the way, several reporters’ cameras swung their way, and Jian Yuheng smiled, nodding calmly.

“You sit first,” Jian Yuheng said, pulling out a chair. “I’ll go test the equipment for the presentation later.”

Song Ruochen: “Alright.”

He sat quietly, channeling the original Secretary Song, until a man’s loud ranting broke the silence nearby.

“What’s this garbage report?” the man bellowed. “I pay you to work, not to be useless! Fix it in five minutes, then pick up my kid, deliver documents, check finances, monitor HR, plan my schedule, and book flights.”

Song Ruochen: “Poor guy, sounds like you’re missing all your limbs.”

Tong Hao: “?”

“Who are you to butt in when I’m disciplining Nanchi’s secretary?” Tong Hao snapped.

Song Ruochen finally looked up at the two nearby.

“This is Nanchi’s work,” the scolded person said. “It’s my honor that the boss is willing to guide me. It has nothing to do with Secretary Song.”

“Carry on, then,” Song Ruochen said.

Nanchi’s work environment seemed awfully harsh on secretaries.

In comparison, Second Young Master treated him really well.

Tong Hao ranted for another half-minute, piling on work for five people, before shooting Song Ruochen a glare and storming off.

“Why’s he glaring at me?” Song Ruochen asked. “Is my proposal not working out for him?”

[ … ]

“They say Secretary Song’s skills are top-notch in the industry,” Nanchi’s Secretary Li spoke up from nearby. “I don’t quite see where the ‘top-notch’ part is.”

“Then you’re not in the industry,” Song Ruochen said. “You’re not professional.”

Secretary Li: “…”

When the secretaries of two major internet companies crossed paths, their exchange drew attention, and several reporters turned their cameras toward them.

“We’re all just tools. No need to be so proud, Secretary Song,” Secretary Li said. “From what I see, you haven’t exactly accomplished any major projects over the years. Seems like your reputation’s a bit overblown.”

“Yeah,” Song Ruochen said, “you don’t even have a reputation. Jealous much?”

Secretary Li: “…”

He was, in fact, quite jealous.

Lately, Secretary Song of Xiaoshi Group’s fame had been spreading rapidly online.

Song Ruochen was just a secretary—a company consumable, a tool under the boss. How could his name overshadow the boss’s?

“I have projects,” Song Ruochen said.

“Your level, Secretary Song,” Secretary Li sneered, “leaves much to be desired.”

That advertising proposal nearly tanked Nanchi.

What could Song Ruochen’s TV drama possibly amount to?

Song Ruochen toyed with Jian Yuheng’s nameplate on the table, not even bothering to respond.

“Second Young Master,” an expo staff member guided Jian Yuheng back. “Your seat is here.”

The staff placed a nameplate reading “President’s Secretary · Song Ruochen” on a worktable with a stenography computer. “Secretary Song, your seat is here.”

Secretary Li let out a mocking chuckle.

Getting the seat wrong? Xiaoshi’s secretary is so unprofessional.

“It’s fine,” Jian Yuheng said. “No need to switch. I’ll sit next to him.”

Secretary Li: “?”

“Green tea for me, warm water for Secretary Song,” Jian Yuheng told the staff.

“Right away, Second Young Master,” the staff replied.

Jian Yuheng sat at the secretary’s seat, opened the laptop, and casually typed a couple of lines for the meeting report.

“Second Young Master,” Song Ruochen said, “Leave some work for me.”

He was running out of fake tasks to slack off on.

Jian Yuheng: “I’ll leave you some formatting. You seem pretty good at it.”

Song Ruochen: “…”

“Xiao Lu’s short drama goes live tomorrow,” Jian Yuheng said. “I just talked to some partners—they’re interested in ad placements based on viewership.”

“Only three slots,” Song Ruochen said. “First come, first served.”

Secretary Li nearby scoffed. First come, first served?

His phone screen lit up with a message from President Tong.

[Tong Hao]: Keep an eye on Jian Yuheng and Song Ruochen. Listen to what they’re discussing.

[Tong Hao]: Closely monitor the competition, don’t just sit there like an idiot.

“Secretary Song free this weekend?” Jian Yuheng asked while typing.

Song Ruochen looked down: “No…”

“Then when will Secretary Song be free?” Jian Yuheng pressed.

Song Ruochen: “When… you’re not free.”

Jian Yuheng let out a delighted laugh.

“Is that so?” Jian Yuheng said. “Does Secretary Song really not want to go on a date with me?”