After the Corporate Slave Beta and the Top Alpha Married - Chapter 7

Ji Yu had assumed this meeting would be similar to the last—at a café or some other place suitable for conversation. Instead, the address was for a movie theater.

Even as he stood at the cinema entrance, Ji Yu remained trapped in a sense of cognitive dissonance. When he saw Shang Yuanzhou step out of that Maybach and walk toward the theater, the surreal feeling of disconnect grew even stronger.

Ji Yu asked, feeling a bit lost: “Aren’t we here to discuss business?”

In all his years, this was the first time he had seen a contract discussed in a movie theater. It was… a truly unique way of talking.

Shang Yuanzhou gave a small smile. His face was more beautiful than many Omegas’, but that beauty carried a cold, murderous edge, like eternal ice; others dared not approach him easily. He couldn’t be described as a rose with thorns, but rather as a sugar-coated arsenic—lethal and blood-drinking.

When he smiled, it was as if more glittering sugar had been sprinkled over the arsenic: enchanting, yet still dangerous. Ji Yu’s eyelids lowered slightly, his gaze shifting away from Shang Yuanzhou’s face.

How could a Top Alpha fail to notice the change in the expression of the person before him? Shang Yuanzhou’s eyes grew dark and inscrutable for a split second before he quickly masked it. “Let’s go inside to talk.”

As they walked in together, Shang Yuanzhou raised an eyebrow. “What movie do you want to see?”

“My assistant booked the whole theater. We don’t have to follow the cinema’s schedule.”

Ji Yu, confused by this display, said frankly: “Anything is fine with me. Whatever you like, President Shang.”

Shang Yuanzhou walked over and said something to the person at the front desk. The clerk’s smile was sincere and enthusiastic as they handed Shang Yuanzhou a bucket of popcorn. Another staff member walked over: “This way, please.”

By the time they were seated in the theater, Ji Yu was still dazed. He opened his mouth to ask, but didn’t know how to start. The screen began to play a movie; Ji Yu glanced at the title. It was likely a romance film. Strange—it was truly strange.

He and Shang Yuanzhou watching a romance film together, with a bucket of popcorn sitting between them… it was just too weird.

Yet, if they were truly there to watch a movie, the theater lights were still on, brightly illuminating the rows of empty seats around them.

Shang Yuanzhou looked at Ji Yu, the corners of his mouth curling as he brought up the main topic: “You’ve read the contract, right?”

“What do you think?”

Ji Yu finally felt a bit of relief in this odd atmosphere. “I want to know, to what degree of intimacy do I need to cooperate when acting as a couple in front of others?”

Shang Yuanzhou was silent for a moment, then spoke objectively: “Sorry, I can’t be certain about that either.”

“After all, this isn’t a script; everything will have to be judged based on the specific situation.”

“As for things that shouldn’t happen,” he paused, “you know that if I had found an Omega to cooperate, the presence or absence of a mark would be very obvious to others.”

Indeed. Being a Beta, he wouldn’t need to go that far for the sake of acting. This was likely one of the reasons Shang Yuanzhou had chosen him.

Ji Yu: “I understand.”

On the big screen, the young male and female leads were on campus. The lead boy had clearly developed feelings for the girl, but was stubbornly maintaining his “cool guy” image, acting dismissive when his companions brought her up.

Ji Yu watched for a moment, truly not understanding why they had to discuss business in a theater. To understand a bit more about his future boss’s personality, he gritted his teeth and asked:

“President Shang, why did we come to a movie theater?”

Shang Yuanzhou looked at him calmly and spoke naturally: “If you accept the collaboration, we need to have a ‘dating process’ in the eyes of others.”

“Since we have to meet to talk anyway, we might as well make use of the meeting itself.”

“It saves us from having to spend time doing redundant things later.”

Ji Yu’s eyes widened slightly, his expression one of admiration. Should I say ‘as expected of a CEO’? He truly thought of things much more comprehensively.

Furthermore, Shang Yuanzhou’s attitude dispelled Ji Yu’s final layer of concern. Compared to him, Shang Yuanzhou definitely didn’t want to spend more time on this than necessary and valued boundaries even more. Both today’s arrangement and the clauses in the contract proved this point.

Ji Yu reached out his hand, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Shang Yuanzhou. “President Shang, a pleasure to work with you?”

“A pleasure.”

The large hand shook Ji Yu’s, pulling back after a brief touch—polite and restrained.

They both signed the contract, keeping one copy each. Shang Yuanzhou looked at their names sitting close together and gave a very light laugh.

Ji Yu is about to fall into my nest.

The moment this thought appeared, Shang Yuanzhou became almost instantly excited. The Alpha’s gland seemed to throb hotly at the back of his neck, and his pheromones began to leak out uncontrollably.

If Ji Yu were an Omega or an Alpha, he would be able to smell the airtight scent of bitter wine wrapping around him—like a dragon coiled around its treasure, unscrupulously marking it with its scent. Even the slightest approach by an outsider would trigger his rage.

Shang Yuanzhou thought maliciously that if Ji Yu were an Omega, he would likely be in heat under such thick pheromones, crying and begging, shyly spreading his legs. And he would mark him, bite through his gland, crash into his reproductive chamber, and mark him permanently. Then Ji Yu would have to marry him, relying on him out of instinct, unable to go anywhere.

But Ji Yu was a Beta. He couldn’t sense the approaching danger; he even gave a silly smile toward Shang Yuanzhou.

“President Shang, have you thought about how you’ll introduce me to the rest of the Shang family? I’ll take notes so I don’t say the wrong thing.”

Shang Yuanzhou didn’t care about those wastes in the Shang family; needing to introduce Ji Yu to them was a fantasy. He only wanted to pull Ji Yu onto his lap and hold him while they finished this romance movie. Like countless ordinary couples, they would discuss the plot in whispers, and occasionally, their fingers would accidentally touch in the popcorn bucket between them.

Green and pure—the unfinished dream from Shang Yuanzhou’s high school days.

And then, when the movie ended, he would pin him to the seat and kiss him, doing some “interesting” adult things to add a heavy stroke of intimate ambiguity to the end of his high school dream.

But he couldn’t. This and that—none of it was okay. His Ji Yu was very timid, like a real fish; he would flee if startled. Shang Yuanzhou was an excellent businessman and would be a qualified fisherman; he knew exactly what to say and do to make Ji Yu relax.

“You don’t need to worry about the others. First, you need to correct how you address me.” Shang Yuanzhou looked sideways at Ji Yu, like he was pointing out a subordinate’s mistake at the company.

His tone was calm, carrying a faint hint of giving an order. This made the employer-employee relationship even clearer to Ji Yu, which in turn made him feel more at ease. Once this job was done, he could leave and do whatever he wanted, unrestrained.

At the same time, he realized he truly couldn’t call Shang Yuanzhou “President Shang” in front of others. Ji Yu hesitated, feeling a trace of imperceptible embarrassment. “Yuanzhou?”

So weird.

“Shang Yuanzhou?”

That sounds a bit distant.

He paused, then tried: “A-Zhou.”

This name made Ji Yu breathe a sigh of relief; it didn’t feel as strange. Still, he asked: “President Shang, can I call you A-Zhou?”

Shang Yuanzhou gave a half-smile. “Calling me ‘President Shang’ again?”

“A-Zhou,” the closing of distance in the address seemed to truly pull them closer. Ji Yu gave a small, pleading smile. “It’s A-Zhou.”

Shang Yuanzhou nodded. “Next week, I’ll pick you up from work. The Civil Affairs Bureau is closed on weekends. Find a time to take leave, and tell me once the time is set.”

Ji Yu felt a bit conflicted. “I’ll go ask for leave, but picking me up from work isn’t necessary, Pres—A-Zhou.”

Shang Yuanzhou: “If we’re going to act, we must do it thoroughly. If we do nothing, how can I show others how much I value you?”

He reached out and gently brushed aside a small stray hair falling in front of Ji Yu’s eyes. “Do you find it repulsive?”

Ji Yu shook his head. The movement was light and quick; he only felt a slight itch on his forehead.

Shang Yuanzhou smiled. “That’s good.”

“Watch the movie. I’ll tell you the rest slowly when I pick you up from work.”

“Since we’ve come here, if we talk about movies we’ve watched together in the future, we can’t have nothing to say.”

Ji Yu hummed in response, watching a movie for the first time with all the theater lights on. Half the movie had already passed, but fortunately, the plot was simple enough to understand even mid-way.

The leads were having a fierce argument over a misunderstanding. A rainy night seemed to be the standard requirement for all break-ups; in the torrential downpour, the female lead cried heart-breakingly, her tears indistinguishable from the rain on her face. One thought it was deception; the other found it hard to explain.

Shang Yuanzhou suddenly asked: “What do you think?”

Ji Yu: “I don’t watch romance movies much. I can’t really tell if it’s good or bad.”

Shang Yuanzhou: “Then which of them do you think is wrong?”

Ji Yu thought for a moment. “Neither, I suppose.”

“For the male lead, some things really aren’t that easy to say. For the female lead, she believes what she sees, so she isn’t wrong either.”

The movie continued, showing their separate lives. Ji Yu commented casually:

“In movies, people meet again for various reasons. In reality, most of the time, a breakup is the final ending.”

Shang Yuanzhou: “If it were you, would you not go look for the other person?”

Ji Yu shook his head without thinking. “No. If it’s not a fit, don’t force it.”

Shang Yuanzhou seemed to smile. Even though Ji Yu didn’t ask, he said: “Then I am different from you.”

Letting go is the most ridiculous thing.

As long as you force it, you can still hold onto the person. Letting go is when you truly have nothing left.

He insisted on making that freedom-seeking soul stay for him. In the worst-case scenario, even if he had to tie him down, he would keep him by his side.

“I hired someone to take some ‘paparazzi-style’ photos from a distance. Because I wasn’t sure if you would accept the collaboration, I didn’t have them take any when we entered.”

“I just sent them a message. When we go out, it’s best to be relaxed and a bit intimate.”

After the movie ended, Ji Yu kept Shang Yuanzhou’s words firmly in mind. When Shang Yuanzhou opened his arms, Ji Yu threw himself into the man’s broad embrace.

He couldn’t imagine how stiff the smile on his face was right now; afraid of being exposed, he buried his face completely against Shang Yuanzhou’s chest. He looked like he was acting incredibly dependent and spoiled.

Shang Yuanzhou held him, gently rubbing his chin against the crown of Ji Yu’s head, a gentle smile hooked on his lips. He satifiedly held the person in his arms without letting go, whispering seductive words into Ji Yu’s ear: “Wait a bit longer. Let them take a few more photos.”

Ji Yu gave a muffled “Mm.” Afraid it wasn’t intimate enough, he burrowed even deeper into the man’s chest.

For a moment, Shang Yuanzhou felt he was truly wicked—he could lie to Ji Yu without even blinking.

And for another moment, he felt himself pitiful.

A Top Alpha, needing to rely on trickery to get a hug from the person he loves.