An Xun was speechless.

[Gulu Gulu]: Am I asking for death? If I tell Bo Xiangzhou, I’d be the first to go.

[Nian Nian]: How could that be~ I only hit people because I was forced~ I curse people unconsciously~ I create personas because I love him~

[Nian Nian]: If I were Bo Xiangzhou, I’d be so moved I’d cry.

An Xun couldn’t help but laugh.

[Gulu Gulu]: You know you’re not him, and yet you still dare to suggest such ideas.

It seemed something came up on Tao Nian’s side, as he suddenly went offline for over ten minutes.

When he came back, his messages carried heavy frustration.

[Nian Nian]: Stupid boss docked my pay.

Just a few simple words instantly made An Xun feel the same. His once passionate heart for work felt as cold as Tao Nian’s.

[Gulu Gulu]: Got caught slacking?

An Xun felt guilty—it was partly his fault. Without a second thought, he sent over 200 yuan.

It couldn’t be more than that, 200 was his limit. After all, he used to be the stingiest person ever.

Tao Nian didn’t hesitate to accept it, knowing he’d return it later anyway.

Thinking about it, An Xun felt a bit awkward. How much was appropriate to give as a wedding gift for his upcoming marriage? He had seen plenty of high-society weddings before, but this was his first time actually attending one. In the past, he’d look at those rich young masters tying the knot with envy, not just for their wealth but also for the chance to attend.

Now that it was his turn, Tao Nian didn’t think high-society weddings were all that great.

Too little, and he’d lose face; too much, and he couldn’t afford it. He’d have to settle for something in the middle for good luck. Surely, An Xun would understand his financial situation.

[Nian Nian]: I have a question.

[Gulu Gulu]: Stop with the nonsense, just ask.

A note showed that “the other party is typing,” but Tao Nian’s message was slow to arrive.

An Xun felt a bit anxious.

[Nian Nian]: Why does Bo Xiangzhou care so much about whether you’re late for work or not? And why does he think about things from so many angles for you?

An Xun stared at the screen, not daring to blink. As soon as he saw the message, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

[Gulu Gulu]: I thought it was some big deal, turns out it’s just this.

[Gulu Gulu]: Let me rant for a bit. Bo Xiangzhou is just not human. He drinks bitter coffee late at night to stay up working, and he wakes up even earlier than a dog in the morning, with an insane work ethic. That’s fine for him, but he also expects me to be as enthusiastic about work as he is.

[Gulu Gulu]: Don’t overthink it; he just can’t stand me being late to work.

Tao Nian suddenly understood. No wonder An Xun hadn’t quit yet—turns out he wasn’t allowed to at home.

[Nian Nian]: Workaholics are scary.

[Gulu Gulu]: I know, right? It’d be fine if he was just like that himself, but he’s dragging me, this slacker, along with him.

[Gulu Gulu]: Does he think a slacker can just magically become hardworking?!

·

Tao Nian was busy all afternoon, so he didn’t have time to chat. Meanwhile, An Xun was at his workstation, frustrated and bored, not knowing what to do. He felt so bored he wanted to die.

In the span of an hour, he checked the time more than thirty times.

An Xun slumped in his chair, completely drained, playing with a black stress toy. Just before it was completely deformed, the end of the workday finally arrived.

He shot up from his chair, grabbed his bag, and became the first employee to clock out. He rushed to the newly opened braised duck shop downstairs and scarfed down two spicy duck necks, only half-satisfied.

Worried that his mouth might still have a smell, he stopped by the nearest milk tea shop while waiting for his ride.

He didn’t come to this shop often. The drink names were all flashy, and without reading the descriptions, it was hard to tell what the main ingredients were.

Not having the patience to go through them all, he picked a drink based purely on color, choosing one of the three that were pink.

The first taste was rich and sweet with strawberry flavor. An Xun bit into the strawberry chunks that hadn’t fully been crushed and gave a fair assessment:

Not bad.

At least they used real strawberries, so his money wasn’t wasted.

Off work, An Xun felt much more alive compared to his low energy during the day, and he had a sudden urge to share.

He took out his Bluetooth headphones, scrolled through some funny videos, and forwarded one to Tao Nian.

The video was of a content creator ranting about the ridiculous things bosses do. An Xun found it quite relatable, to the point where he wondered if this creator had the same boss as him.

He intended to send it to Tao Nian, his pinned chat, but his finger slipped and instead sent it to Bo Xiangzhou, the second person on the list.

By the time his brain caught up, the screen already showed “Share successful.”

An Xun’s pupils shrank, his panic level reaching that of someone seeing a ghost at midnight. In his flustered state, something that should’ve taken just a second dragged on for several.

Luckily, he managed to retract the message just in time. But before he could celebrate, Bo Xiangzhou, who was just about to open the video, sent several question marks.

An Xun vividly remembered the video title—it wasn’t exactly polite, to say the least.

After a brief mental breakdown, he quickly blamed Tao Nian.

[Gulu Gulu]: President Bo, I’m sorry, I sent it to the wrong person. A friend of mine recently quit his job and is looking for something new. He’s small and fragile, so I worry that he might face workplace bullying at his new job. That’s why I forwarded the video to him, hoping he’ll be more cautious when looking for work.

[Gulu Gulu]: [Rose] [Rose]

Bo Xiangzhou was silent for a long time and chose not to respond.

Left waiting for a reply, An Xun was confused. Was Bo satisfied with his explanation or not?

He decided to consult Tao Nian.

Tao Nian had just gotten off work and was on his way home. He hadn’t watched a single video before An Xun dragged him into analyzing Bo Xiangzhou’s mindset. Helpless, Tao Nian watched as a flood of messages came in, unable to stop them.

Tao Nian let out a silent scream, wanting to grab something and crack open An Xun’s skull to see what was going on in his brain.

[Nian Nian]: Are you an idiot? He sent you question marks, which means he’s just as quick at surfing the web as you are. And what did you do? Sent him two roses.

[Nian Nian]: Bro!! He’s thirty-one, not fifty-one! Look at his profile picture—does it seem like something an old man would use? What made you think Bo Xiangzhou is so old that he doesn’t even know how to use WeChat?

An Xun was speechless. He opened his chat history with Bo Xiangzhou and checked his profile picture. Fate seemed to be playing a joke on him because before he could open the profile, another notification popped up—“You patted the gold master.”

An Xun’s expression could no longer be described as just grief and despair.

He quickly retracted the “pat.”

Luckily, Bo Xiangzhou had experienced enough with An Xun’s antics and didn’t take offense, knowing it was unintentional.

An Xun carefully examined Bo Xiangzhou’s profile picture. It had a cold tone, showing a dark silhouette leaning against a door, bathed in slivers of light streaming through the gaps. The harsh light failed to envelop the shadow, creating a stark contrast of light and dark.

His nickname was even simpler—Bo.

An Xun sipped his milk tea and thought: This profile picture really matches his aloof personality. I like it. I want it.

He stared at the profile for a while before taking a screenshot and sending it to Tao Nian.

[Gulu Gulu]: His personal WeChat really gives off that cold vibe, huh?

[Nian Nian]: Be grateful he didn’t add you with his work account.

·

When An Xun got home, it was already evening. The sunset was stunning, lighting up the sky like spilled peach syrup.

He asked the driver to stop a few hundred meters away and walked the rest of the way, stopping to take pictures of the sunset from different angles.

Two rows of bodyguards stood at the entrance to the estate, perfectly trained with impeccable posture, better than those hired by the An family.

Behind the bodyguards were five black SUVs.

An Xun stood there, confused. What was this? Was the Bo family being attacked? Who would dare?

He took a few steps forward, arms crossed, ready to watch the drama unfold.

A young master stormed out of the estate in a fit of rage, stomping his feet. From the side, his clenched fists showed how unwilling he was to leave. He stood there, motionless, like he was sulking.

An Xun zoomed in with his phone camera. This cute and pretty omega gave him a sense of familiarity.

He thought about it but couldn’t remember where. His mind was too occupied with work troubles and the awkwardness of facing Bo Xiangzhou.

Relying on technology, he opened Baidu Image Search. Sure enough, he quickly found the answer.

It was the young master of the Liu family, Liu Tang.

Basically, his half-rival in love.

No wonder Bo Xiangzhou threw him out. Even though he already had an omega, he still clung on.

An Xun rubbed his face. This young master sure was persistent. He had to admire his dedication.

Though he had no personal issues with Liu Tang, as a bystander, An Xun couldn’t help but want to see the drama unfold. Too bad Uncle Lin was watching from the entrance, ready to report any of his movements to Bo Xiangzhou. Otherwise, An Xun would have grabbed a bench and watched Liu Tang’s brave pursuit of love unfold right at the gate.

When Liu Tang spotted him approaching, his expression crumbled. He snorted coldly before getting into the car, his eyes flashing with disdain, clearly looking down on him.

An Xun was annoyed but didn’t show it on his face.

He wouldn’t argue with someone who had no manners, after all, someone raised without a father.

An Xun shook the half-empty cup of milk tea in his hand. The ice had all melted, diluting the yogurt flavor a bit.

He took a sniff outside, and most of the duck neck smell on him had faded. Still, he wasn’t sure about Bo Xiangzhou’s sensitivity. After all, this young master had been pampered since birth, with every room scrubbed spotless and filled with fragrant air fresheners.

Who knows, Bo Xiangzhou might still pick up on the smell.

Bo Xiangzhou was sitting on the sofa, eyes lowered as he scrolled through the news on his tablet.

An Xun, initially confident, felt his nerves kick in again when he saw him. Hopefully, Bo Xiangzhou wouldn’t hold a grudge. After all, he really hadn’t meant to suggest Bo was old.

An Xun cautiously said, “President Bo?”

“Mm, has he left?” Bo Xiangzhou’s tone was neutral, neither good nor bad.

“He’s gone.”

“In the future, keep your distance when you see him,” Bo Xiangzhou said, lifting his gaze to the milk tea in An Xun’s hand. The cup was covered in condensation, showing it was loaded with ice.

Bo Xiangzhou commented, “Don’t drink that too often.”

“Why?” An Xun’s brain short-circuited, and he blurted out, “You don’t like this flavor?”

He suddenly felt that his whole body smelled like strawberries.