Chapter 73: Take a Photo to Blackmail Him
On the surface, Shou Jiaxun was pleased to see the friendship between Bai Fan and Liang Bo rapidly heating up, but he turned around and politely declined Bai Fan’s offer to drive him home.
He said he still had unfinished business and told his old classmate and former assistant to go about their business and not mind him.
But in reality, the moment they left, he immediately pushed away the paper, pens, and computer, then leaned back in his executive chair and closed his eyes for a short nap.
Shou Jiaxun silently cautioned himself: Liang Bo’s good temper and thoughtfulness were traits belonging to Liang Bo himself; they were not exclusive privileges for Shou Jiaxun to enjoy.
It was normal for young people to make friends. If they wanted to be good to someone, they would; if they wanted to eat with someone, they would; if they wanted to sleep with someone, they would.
It was none of his business.
Shou Jiaxun swallowed hard, the slight unpleasantness in his heart extinguished by a sudden contraction in his throat.
His original plan was to lie down for fifteen minutes, wait for Bai Fan and Liang Bo to get far away, and then go downstairs himself. As it turned out, the moment he lay down, he fell straight asleep.
When he opened his eyes again, it was after twelve at night. Moreover, someone had moved him from the executive chair to the long sofa and covered him with a thin jacket that smelled like nuts. Only a desk lamp was left on in the room, the light perfectly suited for sleep.
Shou Jiaxun rubbed his eyes to refresh himself, sat up, and stumbled dizzily to the door, pushing the glass door open to peek outside. “Liang Bo, are you gone?”
The open office area was only guarded by a few “Emergency Exit” signs, which emitted a faint, cold green light that looked almost like ghost fire.
Shou Jiaxun hesitated for two seconds, then raised his voice and called out again, “Liang Bo?”
Still, there was no answer.
Before him was a mass of darkness—vast and silent. The voice he cried out actually had an echo.
Shou Jiaxun retreated silently into his office, turned the air conditioner up two degrees, curled back onto the sofa, and covered himself again with the jacket Liang Bo had left. He intended to just make do until dawn.
But he hadn’t been lying down for five minutes when someone came over and knocked clack-clack on the door. The person outside spoke with a slur, clearly having just woken up as well. “Hey, were you calling me just now?”
Shou Jiaxun quickly scrambled up to open the door for him, asking between laughter and tears, “Why are you sleeping here too?”
Liang Bo seemed stumped by the question, his gaze blank for a long while without a word. Eventually, it made Shou Jiaxun feel a wave of embarrassment.
He thought, If someone likes you, you can refuse, but you can’t pretend you don’t know.
So President Shou decided to do something to reciprocate Little Liang’s kindness. He chuckled and pointed at the wall clock. “It’s not too late yet. I’ll drive you home.”
Liang Bo shook his head. “No need. I’ll just take a taxi.”
Shou Jiaxun timidly went with the flow. “Oh, that’s fine too. Taxis can be reimbursed.”
Seeing Liang Bo’s face darken, he awkwardly added another sentence. “Really, it’s company policy. If you work past nine, taxi rides home can be reimbursed.”
Liang Bo went to the sofa, picked up his jacket, and clutched it in his hand. “It’s pretty dark outside. I’ll see you downstairs.”
Shou Jiaxun raised a hand to cover a light cough, lowering his head to hide the guilt in his eyes.
Today was the first time he felt guilty for rejecting the affection of a member of the same sex.
Liang Taotao, using the alias Liang Bo, truly began to play his cards against him.
When Shou Jiaxun arrived at the company the next morning, he quickly discovered that the draft map titled Guoran Digital Client on his desk had turned into a stack of mobile UI design drawings with nearly 80% completion.
Consequently, more than half the company saw their President Shou call his former assistant, Little Liang, into the office before he’d even been in for five minutes.
No one had much of an expression on their faces, but eight out of ten were thinking to themselves: Tsk tsk tsk tsk…
Upon seeing Liang Bo, Shou Jiaxun held up the UI designs and asked point-blank, “Did you draw these? Is there anything you can’t do?”
Liang Bo chuckled modestly. “I saw my dad work on these often, so I just followed suit. I didn’t know if they’d be of any help.”
“You’ve helped me immensely, haha! Saved me from taking so many detours.” Shou Jiaxun was overjoyed and spread his arms, wanting to give him a hug, but his arms stopped halfway and he pulled them back. “I’ll treat you to lunch today? …And Bai Fan.”
Liang Bo nodded with a plain expression and said “okay,” his demeanor suggesting he didn’t hold any expectations.
Seeing him like this, Shou Jiaxun’s mood inevitably became complicated. What made it even more complicated was that right after Liang Bo left, the Imperial Capital Price Bureau arrived for the audit.
Accompanying them were the managers of the sampled stores—a grand total of over a dozen people. Shou Jiaxun didn’t need to do much during the audit itself; he attended his meetings and conducted his interviews as usual. However, as noon approached, playing host and treating everyone to a meal was unavoidable.
Shou Jiaxun sent a large “Red Packet” to Bai Fan via WeChat, asking him to treat and thank the “Young Hero Liang” on his behalf for lending a hand for the umpteenth time.
Bai Fan, being outgoing, accepted the payment in seconds and expressed exaggerated thanks, saying he would definitely host the guest well for the boss.
But both of them likely knew clearly that Liang Bo wasn’t short of a meal. The problem was that what he wanted, Shou Jiaxun didn’t want to give.
The next few days were so short for Shou Jiaxun that they seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.
Every department in the company was equally busy and chaotic, including the Brand Department where Bai Fan was located. They were tasked with incubating a brand-new team to lay the foundation for the “Guoran” brand’s move into the digital field.
On Friday after work, the Advertising Department where Liang Bo was located held a “Swearing-in Ceremony.” Manager Yu Heng treated everyone to dinner, followed by KTV. Everyone was dizzy with alcohol and high-spirited, making grand vows to treat the bidding arena like a battlefield and crush all opponents; to treat the drinking table like the “Immortal Execution Platform” and secure all clients; to follow the boss, land big deals, and make big money.
Liang Bo also raised his glass and said a bunch of nonsense in keeping with the mood. Perhaps because his performance was too flamboyant, his colleagues teased him to tone it down and save his “spiritual power” for winning over the boss.
Liang Bo sat back on the sofa with a grin. A curious colleague beside him asked, “Have you already won over the boss?”
Liang Bo neither confirmed nor denied, only giving the other party a silly grin.
The person said, “Come, come, let’s toast you… future little boss.”
…
At the same time, Shou Jiaxun was being dragged by Yong Ming to socialise with his own boss—the General Manager of “Dentsu” North China, a man in his sixties from Eastern Fujian.
Only four people were dining. Aside from Shou Jiaxun, they were all “Dentsu” North China executives.
The restaurant for the meal was hidden inside a tea culture art museum. Shou Jiaxun took a turn around the exhibition hall but couldn’t see anything that looked like a restaurant, so he simply called Yong Ming.
Yong Ming came out personally to pick him up, taking the opportunity to warn him, “Speak less later. Whatever I say, just listen; you’re not allowed to argue.”
Shou Jiaxun didn’t understand, but he chose to follow the host’s lead.
Once inside the restaurant, he greeted the two big bosses in the upper seats and toasted each with a glass of wine before sitting down quietly. No matter what topic they brought up, he would just follow the flow and add a couple of words.
When the dishes were almost all served, the man from Eastern Fujian suddenly remarked, “I’d heard of the little President Shou long ago and thought he was some kind of rebellious Omega. Meeting today, I see he’s actually quite traditional—a proper young man.”
Shou Jiaxun silently rolled his eyes, thinking to himself that this was what “speaking less” meant.
However, he had to thank Yong Ming. The Eastern Fujianese man’s attitude toward Omegas was extremely polarized. They valued traditional courtship in their bones, while simultaneously being very greedy and lecherous. Thus, when faced with a beautiful Omega, whether they played the gentleman or the scoundrel depended entirely on their judgment of that Omega’s character.
If they thought you were “open,” they would be even more “open”; frivolous language was a given, and hands-on behavior was not out of the question.
But if they decided you were a “proper person,” they wouldn’t even press you to drink an extra drop of wine.
Shou Jiaxun was the type of “proper person” who spoke a lot, making it easy for people to mistake him for being “open” at first meeting. So Yong Ming’s seemingly random reminder had actually done him a huge favor.
After three rounds of drinks, the topic shifted from small talk to industry cooperation. Between his words, Yong Ming spoke of Shou Jiaxun as if he were a supplier for “Dentsu.”
Shou Jiaxun couldn’t help but glance at him several times, feeling displeased but not refuting him to his face.
Yong Ming secretly sent him a message under the table: “Let’s secure this deal first before talking.”
So President Shou suppressed the words that were about to burst from his throat. Later, when the party broke up, Yong Ming offered to drive him home, and he didn’t refuse on the spot.
Instead, after walking out the main door, he asked the other man, “I drove here. Are you planning to drive my car to take me back?”
Yong Ming pursed his lips and shook his head, having arranged everything perfectly for him. “You take my car, I’ll send you back, and then you find a designated driver for yourself to help drive your car back.”
Shou Jiaxun’s expression became increasingly confused. “Why? Isn’t that as troublesome as ‘taking off your pants just to fart’?”
Yong Ming stared at him for a moment and sighed meaningfully. “If you had brought a driver today, even that Liang Bo, I wouldn’t bother sending you.
I really don’t understand—have you lived half a lifetime without figuring out that you’re quite a good-looking Omega?
How about this: call a designated driver now. If it’s an Omega, you take your own car back; if it’s an Alpha, you take mine.”
Only then did Shou Jiaxun compromise. Compared to a strange Alpha, Yong Ming was indeed much safer for him.
Yong Ming’s vehicle was of the same brand as Shou Jiaxun’s, but it was a larger and more comfortable model. Moreover, he had specially brought a subordinate to help drive, having prepared very thoroughly.
After Shou Jiaxun sat inside, the two of them didn’t talk much more, and he soon felt drowsy.
At first, Yong Ming only glanced at him occasionally. Later, finding that Shou Jiaxun had fallen asleep beside him, he turned his head boldly to gaze at him.
After another ten minutes or so, Director Yong tilted his body toward Shou Jiaxun, reaching out to carefully nudge Shou Jiaxun’s head until the sleeping President Shou’s neck tilted, and he unconsciously rested it on Yong Ming’s shoulder.
Yong Ming took out his phone, set it to night-vision selfie mode, and held it up to take two intimate photos—one landscape and one portrait—of himself and Shou Jiaxun.
The subordinate driving for him glanced in the rearview mirror at the back row. “Director Yong, are you really planning to pursue him?”
After taking the photos, Yong Ming admired them while denying it. “No, I have no such plans.”
As he spoke, he gingerly nudged Shou Jiaxun’s head back and joked with his colleague, “I’ll use these to blackmail him later.”
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