Jian Yuheng, naturally not one for smiles, retracted the corner of his mouth and clenched the “Poet” diagnosis sheet tightly in his pocket.
“Yuheng,” the protagonist called to his younger brother, “have some food.”
“I’m not very hungry today,” Gong, the assistant, said. “Just a small taste will do.”
Jian Yuheng nodded and carried away the whole plate of salted egg yolk chicken wings.
Song Ruocheng, intending to turn back to the table, froze.
[Rollback wallet credited: 30 seconds.]
[Single-day rollback limit increased to 5.]
Coins clinked as they dropped nearby. Expressionless, Song Ruocheng picked up his chopsticks and grabbed a leaf of fresh greens.
Damn villain… had taken all the salted egg yolk chicken wings.
What? Rushing to grow wings with imitation?
[Rollback again?]
“No need,” Song Ruocheng said. “Less than two minutes left on the balance. Better to save it.”
At least today, he wouldn’t rollback anymore.
Though stingy, the system was effective. The previous rollback had corrected the OOC blunder, and those older executives weren’t watching him anymore.
Not quite.
Song Ruocheng: “?”
Why was Jian Yuheng now staring at him?
Song Ruocheng calmly returned the gaze.
“Brother,” Jian Yuheng set down his chopsticks and raised a nearby wine glass. “We haven’t seen each other much since studying abroad. I’ll toast you.”
[Secretary~ Help the boss with the toast~ Time to play your role.]
The system buzzed.
“Second Young Master,” Song Ruocheng lifted his glass eagerly. “President Jian has to drive later, so I’ll drink in his place with you.”
Jian Yuheng’s gaze lingered on the omega’s pale lips for a moment. “Alright.”
Song Ruocheng: gulp gulp
Huh, the wine in this ABO world was delicious too—sweet, light, and mild.
The omega’s lips, tinted by the wine, looked beautiful under the light. Jian Yuheng’s mouth twitched slightly, and he raised his glass again.
He didn’t think he had any mischievous desire to get the pretty omega drunk, but he suddenly wanted to see Song Ruocheng finish a second glass.
“The day we returned to the company, I was impolite to you, Brother,” Jian Yuheng said. “This cup is my apology.”
Jian Feng: “No—”
“It’s fine, little brother,” Song Ruocheng said, raising his glass. “Drink.”
Jian Yuheng: “:）”
Song Ruocheng: gulp
Delicious. One more.
“You were two minutes late to the banquet, Second Young Master. Not very polite,” Song Ruocheng said. “Another cup for compensation.”
Jian Yuheng: “……”
Song Ruocheng treated the wine like juice and drank until halfway full.
When he sat down, the dessert plate in front of him had two walnut pastries, one osmanthus rice cake, one chocolate cake, and two small tomatoes.
Yan Ci had silently switched seats with Jian Feng at some point—smooth as sliding pieces in a puzzle—ending up next to him.
“Secretary Song, this wine is pretty strong. Don’t drink too much,” Yan Ci said. “Eat more. Your wrists are really slender.”
Song Ruocheng had always been this thin, even before entering the story. He suspected people commented on his slenderness because the alpha men in this world made him look smaller in comparison.
“But your waist-to-hip ratio is perfect, all the right places balanced,” Yan Ci whispered. “You’re also pretty, Secretary Song. Surely the alphas like you.”
“No, no alphas,” Song Ruocheng said. “Give me a five-day workweek with two days off instead.”
Yan Ci: “……”
“Next week is the Xiaoshi Group annual meeting,” Jian Feng announced. “The final plan reflects both my and Yuheng’s input. Preparations can begin.”
“The group has many signed streamers and creators,” Jian Yuheng said. “Let’s livestream the annual meeting so fans can watch.”
“Secretary Song,” Jian Feng said, “go handle it.”
The secretary was exhausted. The banquet had just ended, the protagonist pair had left, and he watched the remaining walnut pastries on the plate double from two to four.
“Treasure plate?” Song Ruocheng asked.
**[You %￥… alcohol’s making you see double %￥…zzz]
Jian Yuheng picked up his coat and stepped toward Song Ruocheng, hawk-like gaze fixed on the omega.
Earlier, he had seen it correctly—the “strange occurrence” had happened again: time rolled back, everything repeated.
But now there was a variable.
The variable was sitting upright at the table, with two long rabbit ears behind him, staring intently at the walnut pastries.
Gong went to move the car. Everyone else had left the private room. Now, only Jian Yuheng and Song Ruocheng remained.
Perfect timing to interrogate someone.
Jian Yuheng lifted his hand, pinching the omega’s cheek to force Song Ruocheng to look up into his gaze.
“Song Ruocheng, were you the one who pushed me into the pool?” Jian Yuheng asked.
“Blaming me first, villain!” Song Ruocheng shot back. “You’re the one who pushed me into the pool.”
“Don’t play dumb,” Jian Yuheng lightly tapped the omega’s cheek. “And the elevator doors at the company—were you messing with those too?”
“I’m scared of ghosts,” Song Ruocheng said. “I wouldn’t do ghostly things.”
Jian Yuheng: “……”
“Song Ruocheng, what kind of person am I?” Jian Yuheng asked.
“A paper figure,” Song Ruocheng replied.
Jian Yuheng: “……”
The air was thick with the scent of wine. The omega’s breathing was faster than usual, and his gaze had grown hazy.
The perfect little secretary… was drunk.
“Second Young Master, the car’s ready,” Assistant Gong burst in. “Shall I take you back?”
“Mm,” Jian Yuheng nodded, casually grabbing the long-furred rabbit ears of the person beside him and lifting him off the chair. “Bring this one along.”
No matter how much they usually annoyed each other, leaving a drunk omega wandering outside was simply unacceptable—common sense for anyone.
Assistant Gong watched in awe as his boss dragged Song Ruocheng by the rabbit ears at the back of his shirt toward the car.
“You’ve got your day today,” Gong said with a grin.
“Speak any louder, and you won’t make it through today,” the secretary warned.
Gong shrank his neck.
Song Ruocheng: “Zzzzz.”
System: [Zzzzz]
“Address,” Jian Yuheng said. “Forget it, Assistant Gong, pull the info from the company database.”
“Done,” Gong said, typing the neighborhood into the smart map. “Song Secretary’s residence: Yuzhu Courtyard, Building 21.”
“This guy’s freeloading on our car again,” Gong muttered. “Tomorrow he’s paying for gas.”
Gong was about to start the car when the smart map spoke:
“Arrived near destination. Navigation stopped.”
Gong: “?”
Jian Yuheng: “.”
“Is this thing malfunctioning?” Gong tried inputting it again.
“Starting navigation. Distance to destination: 10 meters. Estimated drive: 2 seconds. Walk: 10 seconds.”
“Why didn’t he just book the banquet at his own living room?” Gong muttered.
Jian Yuheng paused for a second, glancing at the residential building next to the hotel, eyelid twitching.
“Wait here,” Jian Yuheng said. “I’ll take him up.”
Gong hesitated. “But—”
“Don’t worry,” Jian Yuheng said. “He can’t do anything to me. I’ll be back quickly.”
Jian Yuheng carried the “drunk rabbit” into the building’s elevator.
Song Ruocheng was quite drunk but compliant, letting him guide his wrist forward, which filled the alpha with a deep sense of control.
Jian Yuheng looked down at the person he was holding.
Was he really the culprit? Hard to tell now. Everyone was too drunk today—he’d let it slide.
The elevator stopped on the fifth floor. An alpha resident entered, eyes immediately locking onto Song Ruocheng.
The omega’s pale face was flushed from the alcohol, lips a little more colorful than usual, and a faint mist hovered in his dazed eyes.
Jian Yuheng lifted Song Ruocheng’s hand, draping it over his shoulder, pressing him slightly to the side as a warning.
Since this was a rival—and possibly a ghostly one—he had to handle it personally. Others were not to interfere.
The alpha man smirked, waved his hand, and retreated to the edge of the elevator.
The elevator smoothly reached the 30th floor. Jian Yuheng held the omega in front of a fingerprint lock.
He pressed the omega’s hand against the scanner. The door opened.
Song Secretary’s little apartment was now in front of him.
“Go in,” Jian Yuheng pushed him gently from behind.
The omega staggered a few steps, his snake-like movements sending him sprawling onto the sofa, dangling over the armrest.
His back was slender, the oversized hoodie lifted slightly, revealing a narrow, pale waist.
Jian Yuheng’s gaze lingered over the omega’s lower back, picking up a faint scent of grapes in the air.
Drunk, Song Ruocheng’s pheromones had leaked a bit—time to step back.
“I’ll let you off for today,” Jian Yuheng said. “If you turn out to be the culprit, I really will punish you.”
Whether it would be “strike and release” or “light punishment for a big lesson” depended on his mood.
The grape-scented wine was strong. Dizzy from the alcohol, Song Ruocheng blinked awake, feeling like he’d made it home under his own skill. He staggered toward the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.
Bang! Jian Yuheng closed the door behind him, exhaling deeply in the hallway.
The grape-scented pheromones had stirred his body, making him slightly flushed, temperature rising bit by bit.
In the kitchen, Song Ruocheng yelped as the hot water burned his hand. The glass shattered on the floor.
He stared at the pieces, a little mournful over the new cup.
Clink.
Jian Yuheng returned to the room with a complete glass of water, placing it back in Song Ruocheng’s hand.
Jian Yuheng: “???”
The grape scent hit him full force.
He slammed the door again, standing in the fresh air.
“Oww, hot!” Song Ruocheng dropped the glass, which shattered once more.
Clink.
Jian Yuheng: “……”
Jian Yuheng: “…………”
He stiffly turned back.
“Oww, hot!” Song Ruocheng yelled, smashing the glass again.
The grape-scented pheromones overwhelmed Jian Yuheng repeatedly.
Homesickness rose unbidden.
Jian Yuheng missed home.