Chapter Text
Shen Wenlang hated Sheng Shaoyou.
Period.
He hated him when that bastard fought with him, not once, not twice, but thrice.
He hated him more when that idiot messed with his company’s stock.
He hated him the most when he interrupted his well-planned—long overdue—birthday lunch with Gao Tu and somehow managed to make the latter ill.
But now… that hatred had been replaced with something far more irritating.
Mild concern.
It was an allotment of industrial land through public auction. Shen Wenlang, naturally, attended in person, accompanied by his ever-dutiful secretary, Gao Tu. He had no intention of letting this particular auction be sabotaged by Sheng Shaoyou’s recklessness, so he’d reviewed the files himself the night before.
What he didn’t expect was to walk into the bidding hall and see Sheng Shaoyou already there.
The man was dressed immaculately, of course—because Sheng Shaoyou wouldn’t let the world see him sweat, even if his company was rotting from the inside out. Still, Wenlang could read between the lines.
So the rumours were true.
The board was restless. Dissatisfied with his impulsive decisions. Considering replacements.
Wenlang should have felt satisfaction. Vindication, even. Instead, he watched the younger man for a moment longer than necessary and caught something that unsettled him—an unfamiliar stillness in Sheng Shaoyou’s posture. He wasn’t restless. He wasn’t smug. He wasn’t even pretending to be in control.
He was… contained.
And then Shen Wenlang saw why.
Passive heat. Hua Yong deliberately messing up Sheng Shaoyou's pheromones to make him more docile. Breedable.
But that has it's own side-effects.
The inhibitor patch on Sheng Shaoyou's neck seemed soaked. He looked too worn out to attend this meeting. His blood shot eyes skimmed the reviews. Shen Wenlang knew this- for an S-tier alpha to become like this....his pain from his rut must be unbearable
When the auction concluded, Sheng Shaoyou stood, collected his documents, and didn’t so much as glance at anyone else before leaving.
And for some reason Wenlang couldn’t explain, that left an unpleasant weight in his stomach.
It wasn’t pity. He didn’t pity Sheng Shaoyou.
But he knew a leash when he saw one.
By Hua Yong.
Wenlang knew the type. He’d seen charm used as a weapon before, but Hua Yong’s method wasn’t charm. It was something quieter, more insidious. He didn’t correct Shaoyou in public—he redirected him before mistakes could even happen. He didn’t challenge his decisions outright—he folded himself into them, making Shaoyou believe the final call was still his.
And then he started noticing the other things-