Chapter 2

He really admired this young man who both had dreams and worked so hard for them.
The company put him together with the first‑, third‑, and fifth‑place finalists to form the boy group TR.
The runner‑up had chosen to continue his studies and had no plans to enter showbiz, so the four who debuted as TR became the company’s major investment.
Duan Baisui poured money into sending them abroad for further training, hired the best stylists to revamp their looks based on their individual temperaments, and spared no expense to promote them.
Fortunately, it all paid off.
TR’s debut stage was a sensation.
The four members became an overnight national craze.
Endorsement deals flooded in.
TV dramas and variety shows also came knocking.
But beneath the seemingly smooth and bright days, undercurrents were already brewing.
The group’s first signs of trouble surfaced during a talk show.
The host asked, “Who has the best temper in your group?”
All three Alphas pointed at Ju Xiao.
Laughing, the host said, “Is it because he’s more tolerant with you?”
The youngest, Rong Jin, blurted out, “Yeah, we call him our nanny in private. He even does our laundry, including our underwear.”
Ju Xiao’s expression turned awkward, and he immediately tried to smooth things over. “I’m the oldest, I should take care of them more.”
The clip quickly climbed the hot search rankings.
Some people cursed Rong Jin for being ungrateful and tactless, saying he should shut up if he didn’t know how to talk. Some scolded Ju Xiao for being a doormat; if it hadn’t been for Rong Jin campaigning for him, he wouldn’t even have made the top four. A smaller group started shipping them as a CP, churning out piles of fanfics.
Without exception, they all cast Ju Xiao as a “mom friend.”
When Duan Baisui saw the interview, he called a meeting and tore into Rong Jin, warning him to watch his mouth in the future.
In the end, that matter was wrapped up with Rong Jin’s apology, Ju Xiao’s forgiveness, and a heartwarming group photo of the four members showing their deep “brotherhood.”
No one had imagined then that Rong Jin’s offhand remark was just the tip of the iceberg of the bullying Ju Xiao endured.
When Duan Baisui reached Ju Xiao’s bedside, the man looked frail and thin.
Thick bandages were wrapped around his left wrist, and short stubble had grown along his jawline.
He stared blankly up at the ceiling, nothing like the bright‑eyed dreamer he’d once been.
“I’m very sorry I didn’t discover what was happening in time, nor did I see through Hu Chun’s inaction. The company will fire him immediately,” Duan Baisui promised.
Hu Chun was the agent in charge of them. Duan Baisui didn’t believe for a second that he’d known nothing, but the man had been covering for the others all along.
Seeing no response from Ju Xiao, he went on, “I’ll make sure you receive appropriate compensation from the company. And I fully support any legal action you choose to take. If you want to sue them, the company will hire the best lawyers for you.”
At that, a single tear slid from the corner of Ju Xiao’s eye.
He still didn’t speak. He just closed his eyes and turned his face away.
“Xiao‑ge, if you’re feeling wronged, please tell President Duan. He’ll definitely be able to help you. Let’s sue those three bastards. Sue them,” the assistant Xiao Yuan said through her tears.
Ju Xiao yanked the blanket over his head, his body trembling uncontrollably.
He resisted any attempt at communication.
He was still trapped in fear and anxiety.
“Alex.” Ju Xiao’s attending physician came over.
He and Duan Baisui had been friends for many years and trusted each other.
So as soon as the truth surfaced, Duan Baisui had transferred Ju Xiao to this hospital.
“Give the patient some space. Let’s talk outside,” Qin Li said.
Looking at the man curled into a ball beneath the blanket, Duan Baisui said, “Rest well. If anything happens, you can contact me or Assistant Luo anytime. Don’t worry—the company won’t protect anyone.”
From beneath the blanket came faint sobs.
Xiao Yuan threw herself onto him, hugging him as she murmured comfortingly, “It’s okay, Xiao‑ge, it’s okay. Don’t be afraid, we’re all here.”
Qin Li patted Duan Baisui’s shoulder and gave him a meaningful look toward the door.
Following Qin Li out of the ward, Duan Baisui asked, “How is he now?”
“Physically there’s no big problem. Mentally, though, he’s in serious trouble,” Qin Li said. “He not only slit his wrist, he also swallowed sleeping pills. His desire to die was very strong. I suggest finding him a psychologist.”
“All right,” Duan Baisui nodded.
Thinking for a moment, he added, “Was he assaulted?”
With three Alphas involved, it was hard not to consider that possibility.
Qin Li shook his head. “Based on our current tests, no.”
Duan Baisui exhaled in relief. “Good.”
“But there is something odd. He keeps asking me if he’s an Omega.”
There had been no sign of a second gender shift in Ju Xiao; that question made little sense.
Duan Baisui immediately sensed there was more to this.
“By the way, since it’s so rare to see you free, how about we grab a bite later? On my card,” Qin Li invited.
Checking the time, Duan Baisui saw it was only a little after seven—neither early nor late. If he went home on an empty stomach, Zuo Nian would wind up rushing around again. At that thought, he agreed, “Sure.”
They grabbed a simple meal in the hospital cafeteria.
This was a private hospital that largely served celebrities.
So there weren’t many patients, privacy was good, and the cafeteria food was decent.
They talked for a while about Ju Xiao’s condition, and Duan Baisui asked Qin Li to keep a closer eye on him. After all, Ju Xiao was an artist under his company; something like this happening was a stain he couldn’t shrug off.
The bullying scandal only came to light after the suicide attempt. It really did make the company look negligent.
He didn’t care about the online outrage, but his conscience couldn’t rest easy.
Leaving the hospital, Duan Baisui went straight home.
Outside, the sky was already pitch‑black.
When he opened the door, the living room lights were on. A newly aired historical idol drama was playing on the TV, the volume set neither too high nor too low—just enough to lend a bit of human warmth to the otherwise quiet villa.
Curled up on the wide European‑style sectional sofa, someone slept soundly beneath a thin, furry blanket.
The figure was turned toward the back of the sofa, so from where Duan Baisui stood, he could only see the round back of the person’s head.
Even so, just from that slight, slender outline, he knew it was Zuo Nian.
Duan Baisui deliberately softened his steps, debating whether to wake him and have him go to bed.
Zuo Nian was very timid. Whenever he stayed home alone, he had to leave the lights and TV on to fall asleep.
He was afraid of the dark, and afraid of ghosts.
He felt safer this way.
After taking off his coat, Duan Baisui walked over to the sofa. The young man, who had been sleeping, woke up at once, alert.
He lifted his head, eyes hazy with sleep, the outer corners faintly red.
The collar of his pajamas had slipped askew, revealing delicate collarbones.
Even Duan Baisui had to admit that Zuo Nian was beautiful.
For all that he’d seen countless kinds of beauty in the entertainment industry, Zuo Nian was still the most beautiful Omega he’d come across so far.
His innocence and cluelessness weren’t an act—especially those large, watery eyes. Whenever he looked at someone, they were always filled with guileless curiosity that made people want to bully him, just to see him cry.
“Gege…”
Freshly awoken, the Omega’s voice was muffled and hoarse.
“Did I wake you?” Duan Baisui asked.
Zuo Nian shook his head, shuffled over in his slippers, and reached up to help him remove his tie. “Gege, have you eaten yet? Luo‑ge said you had a social engagement tonight, so I didn’t cook. I made noodles for myself. If you haven’t eaten, I’ll cook for you.”
The housekeeper had recently taken leave, so Zuo Nian had been in charge of cooking these last couple of days.
“I’ve eaten,” Duan Baisui said, dropping his gaze to look at him.
“Then do you… do you want some dessert? Like cake?” Zuo Nian asked carefully.
Only then did Duan Baisui notice the eight‑inch cake on the coffee table.
He suddenly realized that today was both Christmas and Zuo Nian’s birthday.
He’d forgotten.
Zuo Nian was an abandoned child.
When he was little, someone had left him at the gates of an orphanage, where he’d nearly frozen to death.
When the kindly director‑mama found him, the little boy’s face was purple from the cold, and his whole body burned with fever.
That bout of illness had left its mark.
Compared with other people, Zuo Nian was much slower to react. He sometimes stuttered when he spoke, and his blank, dazed manner had led everyone to call him “the little fool.”
His brain wasn’t very quick to begin with, and a later check‑up had revealed congenital gland malformation. So even though he was pretty as a doll, no one had been willing to adopt him for a long time.
It wasn’t until Zuo Jun and Ason appeared that the little fool finally gained a home.
Back at the orphanage, the staff had called him Xiao Qi—“Little Seven”—a name without any real meaning, just assigned based on the order of arrival.
Most people simply called him “the fool.”