Chapter 32: High and Mighty Alpha Young Master

【Task-specified node reached.】

05’s toes lightly tapped the ground. With effortless grace, he vaulted over a courtyard wall and slipped into the backyard of a villa that resembled an imperial palace.

His feet had barely touched down when a white tiger burst from the shadows.

Its fangs gleamed with icy menace, its golden eyes blazing with ferocity. It was on the verge of pinning 05 to the ground when the collar around its neck yanked it back with brutal force.

05 looked up, locking eyes with the beast. His own pitch-black gaze betrayed no emotion whatsoever.

The tiger shuddered inexplicably under that stare, a low rumble vibrating in its throat.

In the end, it grudgingly sheathed its claws, shook its massive head—collar jangling—and padded back into the depths of the shrubbery.

05 lifted his gaze to take in the full expanse of the backyard. The extravagance was beyond imagining.

In the distance, behind walls of crystalline glass, rare birds and exotic beasts were arrayed like living museum pieces.

A peacock in soft pink hues. A snow-white arctic fox. A clouded leopard etched with vivid patterns. Farther still, a wolf of pure black fur, trained to heel like a dog as it gazed out expectantly.

Exotic flowers and plants dotted the winding paths in artful clusters. Babbling water coursed through segmented golden bamboos. The air hung heavy with a crisp woody fragrance.

Everything radiated ultimate luxury… and an undercurrent of absolute control.

This world had branched off from a BL novel set against the backdrop of a noble academy.

And the protagonist gong, Shen Yanzhi, had one defining “hobby”: “raising” creatures. Be they priceless beasts or… people.

The protagonist shou, Su Bai, was nothing more than a whim—a “toy” plucked straight from the filthy slums on a cruel bet: “Can a poor kid even survive at the noble academy?”

At first, Su Bai prided himself on his clear-headedness. He vowed to protect his heart and simply graduate in peace.

But his fate was never his own. Shen Yanzhi toyed with it at will. In the end, Su Bai tumbled into love like a pathetic clown—racked with insecurity, clinging desperately, and left with nothing.

Everyone at the academy toed Shen Yanzhi’s line when it came to Su Bai.

When Shen Yanzhi elevated him, Su Bai was the center of the world. When he withdrew his favor, Su Bai was worthless.

Shen Yanzhi obtained exactly the outcome he’d foreseen, then lost all interest.

In the finale, Su Bai dosed himself with hormones, forcing his beta body to conceive just to scrape together a “happy ending.”

Shen Yanzhi never bothered with multiple partners, either. People were far too easy to manipulate. He could make anyone despise him, adore him, worship him like a god.

It was all so utterly boring.

The gulf between gong and shou—in status, in feelings—was simply too vast.

Su Bai’s vow never to fall rang hollow as a joke. Readers raged at the “fraudulent” blurb, and the novel’s ratings tanked.

Still, the world needed fixing not for its score, but for the protagonist gong’s absurdly lopsided setup.

He loomed too high, wielded too much power. He was practically a deity.

Even in this modern world, the backyard—rivaling an imperial garden—stood as irrefutable proof.

05’s mission was clear: Give Su Bai a normal life, let him chase his true dreams. And topple Shen Yanzhi from his pedestal, force him to taste the equal bitterness of those “ants” he’d always scorned.

The protagonists still had a few minutes before arriving.

05 was poring over the task details, considering a tweak to his appearance, when he froze.

This was an ABO world. The protagonist gong was an Alpha—rarely, but they could get pregnant.

Some of his system functions had been locked. In their place: settings tailored to the novel.

05 was now a hidden Enigma.

The rare gender capable of impregnating Alphas.

What the hell did that mean?

Didn’t that force him to…

Why?

05’s head throbbed.

No matter what he tried, that setting box stayed grayed out. Locked.

05 pressed his lips into a thin line.

Only one entity had the authority to restrict his functions…

Was the Main God punishing him? Ghosting his messages while cranking up the difficulty? Without even explaining what he’d done wrong…

Just then, a stretched black sedan glided into view from afar. Its hood ornament caught the sunset, flashing coldly.

The task was underway.

05 wasted no time on distractions. He vaulted back over the wall and positioned himself roadside.

The car pulled to a smooth stop.

The door swung open. Su Bai emerged first, stiff and awkward in his crisp new noble academy uniform. Trepidation lingered in his eyes.

He looked up at the villa—grand to the point of intimidation—and his gaze filled with dazed disbelief.

The uniformed driver followed protocol, bowing deeply as he held the door. He unfurled a massive black umbrella, tilting it precisely to block every ray of sunlight.

Shen Yanzhi stepped out.

The man towered exceptionally tall. The simple academy uniform hung on him like bespoke military finery—crisp, commanding.

Subtle patterns in the fine fabric flickered in the light. Every button gleamed in perfect alignment, radiating unassailable order and obscene expense.

Beside Su Bai, he moved with effortless poise: the bored nonchalance of one perpetually at the pinnacle, for whom all things were mundane.

05’s eyes settled on him.

In the same instant, Shen Yanzhi’s sharp gaze snapped toward 05.

“Young Master Shen… can I really live here?”

Shen Yanzhi lowered his eyes to Su Bai. His lips curved into a flawless, impeccable smile—gentle on the surface, utterly devoid of warmth.

“Naturally.”

“Thank you. I don’t even know how to thank you…”

For a fleeting moment, Su Bai stared, all but ensnared by the man’s godlike perfection.

Self-loathing inevitably followed.

But before it could take root, he caught sight of a familiar figure by the high wall. “Zhou Wu? What are you doing here?”

He bolted over and threw his arms around the youth, his voice a torrent of shock and worry.

“Oh my god, it really is you! How did you even find this place?

The roads are dangerous! Did something happen at the orphanage? Or…”

A faint blush crept into his cheeks. His voice dropped. “Did you come looking for me because you missed me? Does Zhou Wu miss me?”

Su Bai fired off question after question. 05—going by Zhou Wu—nodded obediently all the while, peeking past his shoulder at Shen Yanzhi across the way.

Their eyes met head-on: a pair of frozen obsidian.

Beneath the umbrella’s black rim, Shen Yanzhi’s features were chiseled to sculptural perfection. Every line screamed detachment and supremacy.

No surprise in his gaze. No questions. Just cold, elevated scrutiny—as if appraising a lifeless trinket.

With the mindset of raising a pet, 05 analyzed, he would naturally favor rare and beautiful traits.

05 had even considered altering his hair and eye color to boost his chances, but the function lock had prevented it in time.

He could only roughly adjust his twenty-something body back to an eighteen-year-old appearance. He cranked his passerby looks index straight down to zero.

His original face had been modeled by the Main God, so it shouldn’t be unattractive. Any birthmarks on his face had long since vanished.

The first glance should be stunning enough, right?

In any case, at that moment, Shen Yanzhi’s icy gaze never left him.

“Sorry, Young Master Shen.” Su Bai finally snapped back to reality and hurriedly explained,

“This is my friend from the orphanage. His name is Zhou Wu… He was found at the orphanage gate on a Friday, with no identity information available…

He always took good care of the other kids when he was little, but then he had an accident and injured his head…”

“So,” Shen Yanzhi interrupted flatly. His voice was smooth and pleasant, yet laced with a barely perceptible coldness.

“He’s an idiot.”

Su Bai’s face stiffened. A flicker of displeasure flashed across it before he forcibly suppressed it.

“Yes…”

He seemed to understand Shen Yanzhi’s disdain and stepped aside to contact the orphanage.

Meanwhile, Zhou Wu acted as if he hadn’t heard that insulting verdict at all. He kept staring at Shen Yanzhi with clear, innocent eyes, unblinking. Driven by pure curiosity, he cautiously took a step forward and reached out to touch the sleeve of the man’s suit, which looked impossibly expensive.

“So pretty,” he whispered in admiration.

Shen Yanzhi didn’t move a muscle, not even raising an eyebrow, but his already cold gaze grew even chillier.

The bodyguards at his side immediately stepped forward, muscles tensing as they prepared to swat away the presumptuous hand without mercy.

But Zhou Wu, like a small beast with keen instincts, sensed the danger before they could act. He yanked his hand back and retreated several steps.

All his earlier friendliness and curiosity vanished in an instant, replaced by utter fear. He lowered his head, not daring to look at the man who resembled an icy deity any longer.

“Sorry. Zhou Wu ran off, and none of you knew…?”

“What do you mean by negligence…?”

Su Bai squeezed his eyes shut in anger, took a deep breath, and suppressed his emotions as he argued with the orphanage for a good while. In the end, he could only hang up the phone in frustration.

He pondered for a few seconds, then looked back at Shen Yanzhi. Lacking confidence but with no other choice, he pleaded,

“Young Master Shen… could you let Zhou Wu stay too?”

He hurriedly added, “He can work. He can handle all the odd jobs in the garden.”

After damaging his brain in the fall, Zhou Wu had been working at the orphanage. But the old director had retired.

The new one saw him as a burden, even though Zhou Wu worked diligently… for just a bit of food.

Anxious and nervous, Su Bai spoke quickly and at length.

Shen Yanzhi interrupted him coolly. “Very well.”

“R-Really?” Su Bai could hardly believe it and rushed to express his thanks.

A polite yet distant smile lingered on Shen Yanzhi’s lips. “It’s a trifle.”

He had casually arranged for a commoner to enroll, and though the noble students’ expressions had twitched, they had kept their composure and offered Su Bai flattering words.

If he brought in an idiot now, who knew what reactions they would have.

It might be amusing.

“He can live with us and even attend the academy.”

Su Bai could scarcely believe his ears.

Zhou Wu enrolling at Noble Academy? But…

“There’s just one condition.”

Shen Yanzhi’s gaze shifted back to Zhou Wu, his brows furrowing.

“He needs to learn to control his pheromones.”

“Pheromones?” Su Bai didn’t understand. Wasn’t Zhou Wu a beta like him?

Shen Yanzhi found it amusing. As if.

“He’s an omega.”

The scent of his pheromones was so obvious.

He had smelled it the moment they got out of the car—a low-grade omega’s commonplace fruit fragrance.

Monotonous, pungent, like cheap laundry detergent.

Truth be told, Shen Yanzhi had never encountered such an inferior pheromone scent in his life.

All nobles were high-grade alphas or omegas, always maintaining decorum and perfectly masking their pheromones.

They would never release them so brazenly and embarrassingly, shoving them right under his nose.

Like a dog marking its territory randomly.

Su Bai was stunned.

“No, that’s not right.”

He tried to explain. Gender differentiation wasn’t something one could get wrong. No one at the orphanage had ever mentioned Zhou Wu having any pheromones.

Both of them instinctively looked at Zhou Wu again.

The young man’s features were so refined they could almost be called beautiful, yet his build was tall and slender.

For a moment, their judgments clashed completely.

Shen Yanzhi thought indifferently: Obviously an omega.

Su Bai thought: He doesn’t look like one at all.

Zhou Wu looked left, looked right, tilted his head: ?

At that moment, perhaps because the umbrella-holding bodyguard had stepped back a few paces, or maybe because of the “gentle” smile Shen Yanzhi had just shown Su Bai…

It was nice.

He didn’t seem as scary as before.

Zhou Wu’s curiosity bubbled up again.

He reached out, wanting to approach Shen Yanzhi once more, hoping the man would smile at him too.

But Shen Yanzhi’s expression darkened abruptly. He seized Zhou Wu’s chin in a vise-like grip.

“I’ve had enough.”

The tall man loomed over him suddenly, his gloomy voice ringing in his ear.

He forced Zhou Wu’s head up. There was no smile on his face.

Only those bottomless eyes, filled with condescending scrutiny.

His voice was low and brooked no defiance: “Reel it in.”

At the same time, an icy, noble woody fragrance enveloped him, carrying a terrifying pressure.

Shen Yanzhi had finally released his own pheromones—ruthlessly, like a hand clenched around one’s throat, leaving no room to breathe.

Zhou Wu was visibly frightened, his face paling as he let out a whimper and tried to shrink back.

But Shen Yanzhi didn’t release him. Instead, his distinct knuckles tightened their grip.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping even lower, slower.

“Three.”

Zhou Wu began to tremble, but as if he couldn’t comprehend, he only tried to dodge blindly.

This only enraged Shen Yanzhi further. The cold pine scent sharpened like knives.

“Two.”

Even Su Bai, a beta, felt an instinctive fear. He rushed forward to hug Zhou Wu and apologized repeatedly:

“I’m sorry, Young Master Shen! Zhou Wu doesn’t understand anything. I’ll teach him. I won’t let him act out again…!”

Just as Su Bai’s hand nearly brushed Shen Yanzhi’s, Shen Yanzhi finally flung Zhou Wu away.

A servant waiting nearby stepped forward silently and respectfully offered a pack of disinfectant wipes.

Shen Yanzhi meticulously wiped each finger, his expression returning to its usual indifference, as if the outburst had never happened.

“No harm done.”

“I’ll find a teacher to instruct him.”

Shen Yanzhi treated them with the same indulgence one might afford an ignorant dog—even if it pissed everywhere and rubbed up against him. There was no need to take offense.

With that, he led the way inside. The servants silently knelt and swapped his shoes for indoor slippers.

“. . . Alright.”

Su Bai was still breaking out in cold sweat. This was the first time he’d truly sensed how terrifying Shen Yanzhi could be.

Zhou Wu remained huddled in his arms, hands over his face, too scared to look up again.

“It’s okay, it’s okay . . .” Su Bai murmured soothingly.

“Mr. Su.” A servant approached to guide him to a guest room.

Back at the orphanage, a dozen kids always crammed into a single room. This one was so spacious that Su Bai didn’t hesitate to pull Zhou Wu inside with him.

The servant offered no reminder and simply departed.

“Let’s take a bath first, okay?”

Su Bai suspected Young Master Shen might be especially sensitive to scents; otherwise, he couldn’t fathom why he’d mistake Zhou Wu for an omega.

He could only coax the boy like a child.

It was Zhou Wu’s first time seeing a bathtub, and his attention shifted instantly.

He watched the hot water gradually fill it, wonder gleaming in his eyes as he tentatively reached out to touch the surface.

“So warm . . .”

“Yeah, you can take hot baths here.”

Su Bai’s eyes grew hot with emotion.

Zhou Wu was so adorable.

Even if no one else remembered, Su Bai always would—that Zhou Wu had injured his head while protecting them.

“I figured I’d have to work hard, graduate first, land a job . . . only then could I properly look after you. But I never expected you’d come find me . . .”

Zhou Wu was still gazing at the water, but Su Bai had already leaned his head on the boy’s shoulder, murmuring to himself.

“This is great.”

It put his mind much more at ease. But could Zhou Wu adapt to school life? Would he get bullied or shunned?

Was school truly the best arrangement . . . ?

Su Bai was beginning to doubt it, but Young Master Shen had already decided, and he didn’t feel right questioning it.

He resolved to protect Zhou Wu well at school.

Zhou Wu said little throughout.

In the story’s plot, this character was little more than background fodder. He started out as someone vitally important to Su Bai, spurring him to desperately assimilate into noble society and claw his way out of the slums—so he could help more kids from the orphanage.

But later, after Zhou Wu died quietly and unremarked in the orphanage, Su Bai was already mired in a toxic romance from which he couldn’t escape, his original purpose forgotten.

After a moment, Zhou Wu hinted, “Zhou Wu wants to take a bath now.”

Su Bai asked, “Do you want me to help?”

Zhou Wu replied, “. . . No.”

“Alright, okay.” Su Bai started to leave but suddenly doubled back, leaning in to sniff Zhou Wu’s neck.

It was so strange. He couldn’t smell a thing.

Meanwhile, Shen Yanzhi frowned and washed his hands again.

That cheap fruit fragrance still clung to the tip of his nose.

Now it was mingled with a damp, watery mist.

Shen Yanzhi stared at his hands, then glanced up suspiciously at the central air conditioning vent.