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“Marriage isn’t just a union between two people; it’s a union between two families.”
Growing up, Minghao’s grandmother kept saying this line like it was gospel. She’d say it while stirring soup, folding laundry, fixing the hem of his school uniform. And to be fair, Minghao agrees. Really, he does. One hundred percent.
So, when she smoothed down the sleeves of his coat one morning as he got ready to go out—another date, another family introduction—she smiled at him and said, “That’s why you, my love, should date to marry.”
He nodded like he always did. Because again, he agreed. In theory.
In practice? That’s where things get complicated.
It’s not like Minghao’s a hopeless romantic or anti-marriage or anything. He just never really imagined himself diving into the dating pool anytime soon. Especially not this kind of dating, where his parents push him into meeting their friends’ sons with a dinner reservation already made, and resumes exchanged long before anyone had even said “hi.”
But here he is, slipping into his nicest coat, heading to a restaurant to meet yet another person carefully selected by his parents. Someone from a “good family,” with a “strong background,” and most importantly, “business-savvy.”
It all started when his parents decided it was finally time for him to step into the role he was “meant for” as their only child. The next head of Xu Holdings. The heir. The future CEO.
Only problem? Minghao couldn’t care less about company takeovers, financial reports, or market trends. He had built his world around oil paints, travel tickets, gallery passes, and sketchbooks filled with ideas he never had time to finish. Business meetings? Definitely not on his vision board.
So, when the pressure finally became too much, he tried negotiating his way out of it.
“What if,” he had said one night over dinner, “you just give the company to someone in the family who actually wants it? You know, Uncle Tian, or Cousin Shuying, or literally anyone else? I’ll still work there! Just give me some random title and let me do what I want the rest of the time. That way, you can say I’m part of Xu Holdings, but I’m not... ruining anything.”
His parents didn’t love the idea, obviously, but they also didn’t completely shut it down.
Instead, they came back with a counteroffer: If he wouldn’t lead Xu Holdings himself, maybe he could marry someone who could. Someone capable, preferably from a family that wouldn’t tarnish their name. A partner who could shoulder the weight of the company while letting Minghao live his artsy, dreamy life on the side.
At first, he thought it was a terrible idea. Marrying a stranger to protect the family business? It sounded like something out of that cheap Chinese drama that his mom loves to watch on RedNote during her free time. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about giving that kind of power to someone outside the family.
But then again... it was a way out. A deal. A ticket to freedom, if he played it right. So, he said yes—with conditions. He’d go on the dates, meet the candidates, play the game. But he wasn’t promising anything. If someone gives him the ick, he’ll run away.
That’s how he ended up here—on his fifth setup in two months—wondering how many more family-approved alphas he had to meet before one of them didn’t make him want to claw his way out of a restaurant window.
Because, so far, it’s been rough.
One of the earlier ones was the heir to a fashion conglomerate, which sounded promising until he opened his mouth and started listing all the things he expected in an omega. “I like someone soft,” he’d said, swirling his wine glass like he was auditioning for a role in a soap opera. “Submissive. Gentle. Respectful. You know... traditional.” He’d smiled then, like he expected Minghao to blush or flutter his lashes or something. Minghao just blinked at him and asked the waiter for the bill.
Then there was the crypto guy. God. He’d shown up in a velvet tracksuit and fifteen bracelets, talking about NFTs and startup culture. Minghao tried to steer the conversation toward art once—just once—and the guy launched into a pitch about turning his paintings into blockchain assets. “Think about it,” he said, “your little doodles could be worth millions!” Minghao excused himself to the bathroom and never came back.
One lunch date was with the son of a luxury car mogul. That one showed up in sunglasses indoors, flanked by two assistants who waited by the door like bodyguards. He ordered for both of them without asking and spent the next hour talking about his villa in Switzerland, the yacht he got for his birthday, and how he could “sponsor Minghao’s little artist lifestyle” if he played his cards right. “Paris isn’t cheap, babe,” he said, tossing his keys on the table like a prop. “But I could buy you a gallery if you behave.” Minghao nearly gagged on his risotto.
And then... the one that made him swear off dating for two weeks.
This guy didn’t even make it past appetizers. He slid into the booth next to Minghao instead of across from him, immediately invaded his personal space, and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear without asking. “You don’t have to act all tough with me,” he whispered, his breath way too close. “I know how omegas like you are deep down. You want someone to take care of you.” Minghao stood up, grabbed his coat, and walked out. No explanation needed.
So, yeah. It’s been a disaster.
And yet, here he is again. Still trying. Still showing up.
Not because he’s eager to date anyone—God, no—but because the deal his parents offered does make sense. Marry someone who knows how to run a business, work under them with a made-up position, and spend the rest of his life doing what he actually wants. No CEO title, no pressure, no pretending to be something he’s not. And maybe—maybe—somewhere out there is a person who fits the role without making him want to scream into a pillow.
Minghao isn’t holding his breath, though.
He straightens the collar of his coat as he enters the restaurant, greets the hostess with a polite nod, and follows her to the reserved table. His palms are only slightly sweaty. He wonders what kind of alpha it’ll be this time. Another overconfident heir? A business bro with a superiority complex? A guy who sees omegas as trophies?
Or maybe... someone that’s not too loud, willing to listen, and not too full of himself. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?
Minghao followed the receptionist through the restaurant. One thing he noticed right away is that the table they were headed to was way off to the side, away from the rest of the diners.
Private.
Suspiciously private.
He gulped.
Please, let it not be another sleazeball, he prayed silently. If this new alpha even tries to touch him, he’s flipping the table and walking straight out without looking back.
As they reached the table, Minghao blinked in surprise. There was already someone standing beside it, hands politely folded in front of him.
“Hi,” the man said, offering a gentle smile. “You’re Xu Minghao?”
Minghao nodded, caught slightly off guard by the greeting.
The man, Wen Junhui (or Jun as he read in the papers last night), pulled a chair out for him. Not dramatically. Not in a try-hard, performative way. He even waited for Minghao to be fully seated before sitting himself. So far, this one wasn’t acting like a self-important prick. That was already a good sign.
Minghao studied him discreetly as he settled in. They were nearly the same height. The guy had soft, gentle features—sharp eyes but with a kind glint, full lips, and a straight nose. His light brown hair looked like it had been styled in a hurry, still charmingly tousled. Not a single gold chain in sight. Thank God.
And he smelled… refreshing. Like ocean breeze and clean ice, layered with something faint and floral. Lavender? And—wait—was that peach?
Minghao tried not to wrinkle his nose.
That scent—lavender and peach—was definitely omega-coded. There’s no way it came from cologne.
Does he… already have a mate?
It wasn’t a secret that Jun, like him, was also being pushed into this whole arrangement thing. But if he was already dating someone, that would be a dealbreaker. Big red flag. A giant waving banner of no, thank you.
Still, he kept that thought in his back pocket for now.
They introduced themselves like they hadn’t read each other’s full life story in PDF format before tonight. It was weird, this polite pretend-play. But Minghao appreciated the formality; it gave him room to test the waters.
So, he went ahead and dropped his conditions on the table like a deck of cards.
“No offense,” he said coolly, “but I’m not here to find a big, strong alpha. I just want someone competent enough to handle the company while I figure my life out. I’ll do my part, of course, but I’m not here to be anyone’s cute little house omega.”
Jun didn’t even flinch, he just nodded in understanding.
Minghao leaned in a little, raising a brow. “So, what’s your deal? What brings you here? Parents dangling inheritance over your head, too?” He didn’t bother to hide the sass. If this guy couldn’t handle a little pushback, he wasn’t worth a second look. Minghao had learned that much from previous disasters.
But Jun just chuckled, scratching his cheek. “Honestly? Yeah. My boss was a pain in the ass. Micromanaging me to death. So, when my parents offered this deal—take over a company that’s not theirs before inheriting the family one—I figured, why not try? Better than losing my soul in a cubicle.”
That caught Minghao off guard.
“So why not just work for your family now?” he asked, suspicious.
“I’m not a spoiled nepo baby,” Jun said with a light shrug. “And Xu Holdings feels familiar; it’s a similar structure to my old company, so I figured it wouldn’t be a totally foreign beast to deal with, and I might be useful to your parents’ company. It just made sense.”
Minghao smirked. “You sound like we’re at a job interview, not a date.”
Jun laughed, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, I blame the restaurant vibe. Too formal. Makes me feel like I should be presenting slides.”
The conversation was easy enough so far, but Minghao still had one question nagging at him.
“Are you dating someone right now?” he asked bluntly.
Jun’s brows lifted. “No? Why would I be here if I was?”
Minghao clamped his mouth shut before the words “then, why do you smell like an omega?” could come tumbling out.
Before he could spiral into a monologue in his head again, Jun suddenly said, “I read in your profile that you’re into art. You’ve traveled to see galleries, right? Did you go to Korea recently?”
That was all it took. Minghao lit up like someone flipped a switch.
He dove into the story of his last gallery trip to Seoul, rambling about a hidden studio he found in Hongdae, the rotating installations at D Museum, and a café that served coffee in paint cans. He could tell Jun didn’t know half the places he mentioned, but the alpha actually listened, nodded, and asked follow-ups. He even managed to look interested when Minghao pulled out his phone to show a blurry picture of an installation piece that had moved him to tears.
When Jun asked what he was working on now, Minghao nonchalantly stated, “Might make something new once I’m married. Y’know, assuming I find someone to rescue me from this whole shebang.”
Jun just smiled. “Fair enough.”
Minghao tilted his head, curious now. “What about you? What do you do in your free time? Any hobbies?”
“I used to run a music website with my best friend,” he said. “It’s kind of inactive now, though. Lately, I’ve just been reading a lot. Novels mostly. And… dubbing videos.”
Minghao blinked. “Like, professionally?”
Jun laughed, shaking his head. “No, no. It’s just for fun. I dub over silly videos—animals fighting, dramatic edits, cartoons, that kind of thing.”
Minghao could see the childish grin forming on his face, like he was trying hard not to be proud of it. It was kind of… cute.
“I can show you,” Jun added, eyes bright. “Maybe on our next date. The vibe here doesn’t really match the energy of the video.”
Minghao raised an eyebrow. “How are you so sure there’s going to be a next date?”
Jun looked flustered immediately. “I—I mean, only if you want to. I could show you now, too.”
He scratched the back of his neck, clearly regretting speaking at all, and Minghao just snorted.
That night, lying on his bed, Minghao replayed the video Jun had sent after they exchanged WeChat. It was indeed stupid but funny. Two corgis barking over a toy, voices dramatically dubbed by Jun—one high-pitched and offended, the other deep and villainous.
Minghao grinned like an idiot.
Okay, fine. He cackled back at the restaurant and nearly folded into a puddle from embarrassment. But whatever.
The bottom line is: he agreed to a second date with Jun.