An Xun stared at him eagerly, eyes filled with a thirst for knowledge, blinking every so often as if asking a serious academic question.

Bo Xiangzhou’s gaze swept over his face, his lively eyebrows and eyes brimming with the youthful energy typical of someone his age. His eyes dropped to An Xun’s lips, which were slightly pursed, perhaps feeling uneasy under his stare. An Xun fidgeted with his fingers and then nervously extended his tongue to lick his lips.

Realizing the inappropriateness of this gesture, An Xun quickly pulled his tongue back and flashed a smile at Bo Xiangzhou.

Obedient and well-mannered.

This was the thought that crossed Bo Xiangzhou’s mind more than once.

His memory was excellent—he usually remembered people well after just one meeting. Yet, An Xun was an exception. It was as though An Xun deliberately crafted a certain image, floating it in front of Bo Xiangzhou to brainwash him into seeing exactly what An Xun wanted him to see.

Once or twice, that was fine. But more often, it made Bo Xiangzhou suspicious.

“President Bo…”

When An Xun noticed that Bo Xiangzhou hadn’t said anything, his expression became pitiful, his head lowered as he fidgeted with his hands, nervously tracing circles with his toes. He looked like a child who had done something wrong—shy and sensitive.

He must have had a hard time in the An family and was probably afraid of walking on eggshells in the Bo family, too. Maybe that’s why he was trying so hard to be obedient.

A flash of realization struck Bo Xiangzhou. He recalled the first time he met this omega—An Xun had said he liked him, but Bo Xiangzhou hadn’t really felt that kind of affection from him since. An Xun wasn’t even very invested in the wedding attire, which didn’t seem like the behavior of someone who liked another person.

Bo Xiangzhou’s eyes softened with sympathy.

Had An Xun made up a lie because he feared Bo wouldn’t like him? The liking was fake; the fear was real.

Bo Xiangzhou’s impression of An Xun grew tender—he now saw him as a bit of a pitiful figure.

Meanwhile, An Xun was practically cramping from tapping his toes, but Bo Xiangzhou still hadn’t said a word.

Are you mute or something? Hurry up and say something! I’ve got a game to get back to!

In a small voice, An Xun asked, “President Bo, do you not like the taste of strawberries?”

The living room fell into complete silence.

Bo Xiangzhou frowned slightly, locking his gaze onto An Xun as if trying to see right through him. His eyes carried an intensity that made An Xun’s spine tingle with cold.

Lowering his head, An Xun blinked and, when he looked up again, his eyes were glistening with moisture.

No alpha could resist those puppy-dog eyes.

Bo Xiangzhou’s eyelids drooped slightly as he pondered, “…I do like it, but in this weather, you should avoid drinking iced things.”

He then added, “And it’s better for omegas to be a bit more reserved.”

An Xun: “?” What does that have to do with being reserved? If you want to scold me, just say it! What’s with all the roundabout talk? Whether you like strawberries or not doesn’t matter—my scent isn’t even strawberry! Even if you liked it, it’d be wasted.

Bo Xiangzhou seemed to want to say more, but when he saw An Xun looking all confused and unaware of how flirtatious he had been, he closed his mouth. After a moment, he said, “Forget it, go upstairs and play. Just remember to come down for dinner later. Sorry if I scared you earlier.”

Still puzzled, An Xun went upstairs and threw himself onto the bed, immediately messaging Tao Nian to vent.

Tao Nian had no patience for him, “Okay, imagine an alpha holding a blue margarita, halfway through the drink, winking at you repeatedly while asking if you like the taste. What would you think?”

An Xun didn’t hesitate, “That alpha is trying to hit on me. The winking is just to catch my eye.”

“Exactly,” Tao Nian snapped his fingers, “Same thing here—you were seducing Bo Xiangzhou.”

An Xun: “!!!”

Shocked, An Xun sat up abruptly, yelling into his phone, “Don’t be ridiculous! I wasn’t seducing him! Nian Nian, you have to believe me!”

“Tell that to Bo Xiangzhou yourself. This makes it sound like we’re having some kind of secret affair,” Tao Nian said, setting his phone on the counter and shaking the water off his hands, “Alright, ma’am, I’m cooking dinner. Don’t bother me unless it’s important. Bye.”

At 8 PM sharp, An Xun turned off the lights, sat barefoot on the floor, and stuck one leg out from under the blanket as he scrolled through Weibo.

[Nian Nian]: I just remembered something—Bo Xiangzhou didn’t actually open the video you shared with him, right?

A sudden wave of anxiety hit An Xun.

[Gulu Gulu]: I don’t think so…?

[Nian Nian]: If he had, it would’ve shown that he accepted your invitation to watch the video. You should go unfollow all those shirtless guys showing off their abs and set your collections to private!

Those guys were the result of years of carefully curated taste. Unfollowing them suddenly felt weird, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to find them again in the future.

Suddenly, an idea popped into An Xun’s head. He set his account to private.

[Gulu Gulu]: Haha, now I don’t have to unfollow anyone.

[Nian Nian]: I have a feeling you’ll regret this later.

[Gulu Gulu]: No way, it’s not like looking at hot guys is illegal. The police couldn’t even find evidence to arrest me!

Meanwhile, in the brightly lit study, Bo Xiangzhou was focused on his computer screen. To his right, the aroma of coffee wafted through the air.

However, unlike usual, he wasn’t reviewing work documents but rather the basic information on An Xun and An Xin.

An Xin had attended the best international school in Jiang City, directly progressing from elementary to middle and high school. Materially, she had everything she needed, and her shelves were filled with gold-framed awards that dazzled Bo Xiangzhou’s eyes. But after some research, he found that those awards held little value—mostly just for show to impress outsiders.

In contrast, An Xun’s background was bleak. He had attended any random elementary school and had to work his way into middle and high school. His description was brief and lacked detail.

The amount of money the An family had spent on An Xun wasn’t even close to what they spent on An Xin in a month. In fact, the An family had once tried to marry An Xun off to the chairman of the Yi Hai Group.

An Xun was even more pitiful than Bo Xiangzhou had imagined.

Bo Xiangzhou sighed.

·

Once An Xun realized that Bo Xiangzhou had misunderstood him, he felt too embarrassed to face him. He wished he could go back in time and slap himself.

Why did he ask that? And worse, why did he tear up like some lovelorn fool who was upset he hadn’t succeeded in seducing someone?

An Xun’s mind went blank—he couldn’t find the right analogy.

He avoided Bo Xiangzhou for several days, all the while worrying that Liu Tang might show up at his office and cause a scene.

He clearly remembered Liu Tang’s eyes, filled with jealousy, arrogance, and disdain, as if he were a person standing at the top of a pyramid, looking down on the ants struggling below.

Too bad, An Xun didn’t care about him at all. No matter how self-righteous Liu Tang acted, his upbringing wasn’t much better. Sure, his manners might be slightly more refined, but in terms of social skills, Liu Tang was completely lacking.

The Liu family only got as far as they did because of their connections with Shen Qingrang. Compared to the Bo family, their standing wasn’t even close. Even if Liu Tang hated him, he still had to maintain some decorum due to An Xun’s current status. But Liu Tang didn’t even bother to pretend. Once jealousy took over his mind, Liu Tang would make mistakes.

Hopefully, he could turn back before it was too late.

Yes, Bo Xiangzhou was quite charming, but there were plenty of alphas in the world—he wasn’t the only one. If you looked hard enough, you’d find a good substitute.

Why fall for someone who was already married? An Xun liked Bo Xiangzhou, but not to the point of obsession. It was a superficial attraction. He figured that after marriage, they would just live their separate lives, like many other couples who married for convenience and treated each other with respect from a distance.

Even so, Liu Tang’s behavior was truly irritating. Bo Xiangzhou was his alpha, and Liu Tang’s blatant challenge was hard to ignore.

He could only hope that Bo Xiangzhou wouldn’t fall for the temptation. If he did, there wasn’t much An Xun could do. He didn’t mind divorcing Bo as long as it helped him destroy the An family. That was his main goal: to see the An family suffer as much as he had.

An Xun closed the blackout curtains in his room, plunging it into darkness. He locked the door and, feeling quite excited, set up a small table on his bed, placed his laptop on it, and turned the sound down while increasing the brightness. He logged into WeChat and clicked on the video Tao Nian had sent him.

Diving into the covers, An Xun’s smile grew creepier as the video progressed.

Completely absorbed, he glued his eyes to the screen, practically ready to climb into the computer. His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, marveling at how much he still had to learn.

Just as the most crucial part was about to play, there was a knock at the door.

No matter how intense or captivating the scene was, An Xun’s interest instantly evaporated.

He deflated. Whoever was knocking at this hour probably wasn’t bringing good news. If it was something good, he wouldn’t have to deal with it.

An Xun closed his laptop and, still cautious from his previous slip-up, made sure to exit the video and set everything to silent before opening the door.

It was Uncle Lin again, with his familiar face, familiar clothes, and familiar demeanor.

Uncle Lin held a tray, covered with several layers of black velvet, on which lay five watches. Even without additional lighting, they gleamed. The craftsmanship was exquisite, and the materials used were extremely expensive. The small diamonds inlaid around the watch face were bigger than the ones An Xun had seen in silver jewelry stores.

It practically blinded him.

An Xun weakly asked, “Are these for me?”

Uncle Lin smiled kindly, “President Bo said to consider them as compensation for scaring you the other day.”

An Xun was puzzled, “When did he scare me?”

He liked the gift, but he couldn’t accept it without reason. Bo Xiangzhou didn’t owe him anything. Receiving so much made him feel uneasy.

Uncle Lin’s tone was casual, as if he were talking about something trivial, “President Bo is most afraid of omegas crying in front of him.”

An Xun immediately understood. He had only been trying to play the pitiful card to get Bo Xiangzhou to stop scrutinizing him. Sure, he was a bit scared, but the tears were just a tactic. He hadn’t expected them to actually fall.

Now he was even more anxious. The gift was too extravagant, and accepting it made him feel unsettled.

Uncle Lin, just as assertive as Bo Xiangzhou, didn’t give An Xun a chance to refuse. He pushed the tray into An Xun’s hands, casually, as if handing over something of little value.

Uncle Lin said, “Madam, I’m just following orders. If you have any complaints, feel free to knock on the door next to yours tonight.”

Something about that sentence didn’t sit right with him.

An Xun chewed on his cheek, caught in a dilemma. Did he dare have any complaints?