The Beta Wife Claimed by Competing Alphas - Chapter 32

For several days, Shang Qiyue did not contact him.

Mu Yan knew he must have done something to displease him. Unable to fathom what Shang Qiyue was thinking, he could only tell himself to be even more obedient and well-behaved, and to never again accidentally fall asleep while President Shang was driving.

He rested at home for a few days. During this time, the young family doctor named Cen visited once to carefully examine his injuries. After much deliberation, Mu Yan asked if Shang Qiyue had sent him.

Doctor Cen smiled. “Of course. Are you joking? Without President Shang’s instructions, how could I venture to disturb you?”

“You are recovering very well. After all, you are young and your bodily functions are in good shape. However, if this happens again, try your best to protect your head. Mr. Mu, although as a doctor I am grateful to you on behalf of my colleagues, you should also mind your own health so as not to worry President Shang.”

“Thank you for coming. I next time I won’t do it again.”

The doctor patiently reminded Mu Yan to avoid spicy food and watch for wound infections before leaving promptly.

Since Shang Qiyue had sent him, regardless of why he had been unhappy before, perhaps he was no longer so angry now?

Mu Yan mustered his courage and sent a message to Shang Qiyue, thanking him for sending the doctor and mentioning that he felt much better. Within half an hour, Shang Qiyue called.

Mu Yan repeated his thanks. He didn’t notice it himself, but to the person on the other end, his spoken words were nearly 80% identical to the text message. Shang Qiyue seemed unable to suppress a chuckle.

“It’s a small matter. I’ve already handled the congressman’s son. He’s been locked up for twenty years; a fool like that will have a hard time in prison. His father didn’t stand up to investigation either and has been sent in as well. Does your head still hurt? Are you sure you’ve recovered?”

Shang Qiyue’s voice was naturally pleasant, and through the slight distortion of the phone, it sounded mysteriously hazy and ambiguous. Mu Yan knew this wasn’t an illusion; Shang Qiyue’s memory wasn’t so poor that he needed to ask the same question three times.

“Yes, I’ve recovered. Are you coming over tonight, Sir?”

“Yes, I’ll come over,” Shang Qiyue agreed. “No need to go out for groceries. I’ll have someone deliver some food. That’s all for now, I have a meeting shortly. See you tonight.”

The call ended with a soft beep.

Mu Yan opened his memo app and thought about how many dishes to cook for Shang Qiyue, noting down several suitable ones. He was deeply grateful to the man. Since signing that agreement, Shang Qiyue hadn’t actually done anything to him. Instead, he had been helping him, taking care of him, and had even given him a million yuan outside of the agreement.

Even though he had somehow displeased him the other day, Shang Qiyue hadn’t lost his temper. Instead, he had sent a doctor to check on his injuries a few days later. Mu Yan knew that fate doesn’t give gifts for no reason, but this deal was still too good, so good that it felt unbelievable. Therefore, as the day arrived when Shang Qiyue might actually require payment, he felt a sense of relief. He was glad that he still had value to the man.

When it was just the two of them, he usually made two or three dishes. But would Shang Qiyue find that too meager? Four dishes seemed more appropriate.

The kitchen was fully stocked with oils and seasonings. Some labels were in English; Mu Yan identified them as olive oil and various spices. The air fryer and oven were all ready to use. Shang Qiyue sometimes had people come over to cook, so these were likely prepared for that.

When he first graduated, Mu Yan’s wish was to save enough for a down payment on a small apartment in City A. No matter how remote or cramped, it would be a home of his own. In his idle time, he would quietly fantasize about this future home: a small 60 or 70-square-meter unit with warm-toned curtains, air conditioning in every room, and an oven, no matter how small the kitchen was.

Pots and pans were necessities for survival, but an oven was not. An oven was for baking egg tarts and cookies; it was for making people feel happy. During his freshman year, Mu Yan had worked part-time at a bakery. The sweet scent of freshly baked egg tarts could be smelled from far away, bringing a fleeting sense of happiness.

He glanced at the oven in the corner of the kitchen. Could he use it whenever he wanted? If so, he wanted to bake some egg tarts to bring to his mother and brother over the weekend.

When Shang Qiyue pushed open the door, the aroma of tomato-stewed beef permeated the air. He had sat through three consecutive meetings, and his stomach suddenly seemed to regain sensation, clamoring for something to eat, preferably the beef currently simmering in the pot.

He walked to the kitchen. Mu Yan turned around and smiled at him. “It’s almost ready. Just waiting on the Yan Du Xian (bamboo shoot and pork soup). Would you like some beef broth first?”

Shang Qiyue nodded. Mu Yan brought a small white porcelain bowl and served him a portion of the tomato beef soup. The tomatoes were stewed until soft, filling the broth with a sweet and sour fragrance that, mixed with the richness of the beef, felt soothing and warm.

Only then did Shang Qiyue notice something baking in the oven—likely a dessert Mu Yan had made.

“Are you hungry? The rice is ready; you can eat first.” Mu Yan stood with his back to him, turning his head to look at him with a gentle gaze.

“Mu Yan.”

Hearing his name called with such ambiguous intent, Mu Yan turned back, looking a bit lost. “What is it, Sir?”

“The Yan Du Xian just needs to simmer, doesn’t it? Come and eat first. There’s no rule in this house that the person cooking has to eat leftovers.”

“Alright,” Mu Yan answered softly. He served the rice and sat down beside him.

“It’s delicious. Especially this tomato-stewed beef. Did you learn it online?”

“My mother taught me.”

“Your auntie is impressive. These tomatoes are stewed perfectly, flavorful but not too mushy. Since you’re this good, she must be even better. Was she a professional chef?”

Mu Yan felt a bit embarrassed by the praise. “She helped out in restaurants and learned a bit, but she is very smart and learned quickly. She originally saved some money wanting to open her own place.”

The Yan Du Xian was ready. Mu Yan stood up, walked over, and served the dish. He was glad he hadn’t continued further; he had been rambling about his own affairs without considering if President Shang wanted to hear them.

“And what happened after that?” Shang Qiyue asked.

Mu Yan froze, unsure if Shang Qiyue was being polite to avoid awkwardness or if he was truly interested. “After that… she got sick.”

It was an expected answer. Judging by Mu Yan’s tone, the restaurant plan had clearly not succeeded. However, seeing Mu Yan’s expression, Shang Qiyue felt as if his heart had been pricked by a tiny needle.

What would Mu Yan be like if he hadn’t encountered these misfortunes? A cheerful mother running a restaurant, a gentle brother, and a well-behaved, clean-cut appearance that no one could dislike, along with a good degree and solid abilities.

Then he probably wouldn’t have met Mu Yan like this. If they did meet, Mu Yan would likely be a technical staff member for a partner company. He would probably still smell the bread scent on Mu Yan, and they would have met, pursued each other, and eventually, he would have given him a generous breakup fee once a cure for his pheromone disorder was found.

He reached out and patted Mu Yan’s head. Mu Yan obediently let him, neither shrinking away nor leaning in. To be fair, as a lover, he was too dull. If it were one of those kids Meng Simiao or Ren Chenzhou kept, they would have leaned into his arms and acted spoiled by now.

But Mu Yan was just dazed, looking up at him cautiously with eyes like a little rabbit’s.

“It’s okay, be good. Anything that can be solved with money is a small matter. Once your mother’s health improves, I’ll help her open a restaurant. You can have any shop you want in the Huai’an Road area, okay?”

Mu Yan didn’t know which of Shang Qiyue’s words were casual comforts and which were serious. He just gave a soft “Mm.” Shang Qiyue placed some food in his bowl and urged him to eat.

Mu Yan lowered his head to eat his rice. Shang Qiyue looked at him and suddenly said, “By the way, the hospital is taking your injury very seriously. They might invite your whole family for a meal. I’ll have them book a local restaurant; it shouldn’t be to your dislike.”

Mu Yan was stunned. Why would the hospital invite him through Shang Qiyue? Director Zhang had his number, and the office should have had the patient’s family contact info long ago.

Shang Qiyue didn’t look at him, simply placing a rib in his bowl.

“Don’t want to go? I’ll be there too. If you don’t like socializing, just eat; I’ll handle the rest. There’s no harm in having a meal with the hospital leadership. Kidney failure isn’t an incurable disease; it’s mostly a matter of insufficient medical resources.”

Mu Yan wasn’t stupid. After a moment of daze, he realized this was just a way to save his face. Shang Qiyue wanted to help provide better medical conditions for his mother and was saying it in a roundabout way. He didn’t want to trouble Shang Qiyue further; the man had already helped him more than he could ever repay.

But human beings are ultimately greedy. When the hospital wanted to stop his mother’s dialysis, Mu Yan thought he would do anything just to afford it. Now that Shang Qiyue was telling him kidney failure could be cured, how could he not be tempted?

“Sir,” Mu Yan looked at him. “How can I ever thank you?”

Seeing that he understood the intent immediately, Shang Qiyue smiled gently. “Don’t you already know? No need for anything extra.”

He always spoke so flippantly. Mu Yan’s ears turned red again. Not knowing how to respond, he busily placed food in Shang Qiyue’s bowl until the rice was gone.

Seeing Mu Yan reach out to give him more rice, Shang Qiyue gently caught his wrist and shook his head. “If I’m not full, I’ll serve myself.”

An Alpha’s body temperature is always slightly higher than a Beta’s. Mu Yan felt the place where Shang Qiyue held his wrist burning.

“Then Sir, I also baked egg tarts. Would you like to eat them now?”

Shang Qiyue felt a bit helpless. Mu Yan was treating him like a prize pig—four dishes, a soup, plus dessert. Even a pig wouldn’t be fed this much; how could he possibly eat more? But since Mu Yan had baked them, it would be a lack of sentiment to refuse.

“I’ll have one.”

Seeing him agree, Mu Yan opened the oven and took out an egg tart for him, and one for himself. Mu Yan’s egg tarts were slightly burnt on top, but the crust was crispy and passable. After taking a bite, he looked up at Shang Qiyue. “Sir, it seems a bit burnt. I didn’t control the heat well. Maybe you shouldn’t.”

But Shang Qiyue had already finished the tart in a few bites. He looked at Mu Yan’s hesitant expression. “It’s quite good. Burnt is also tasty. What is it? Is there something else you want to ask me?”

“I’m glad you like it.” Mu Yan smiled. He knew Shang Qiyue wasn’t petty, but he felt it might be impolite to use things without asking. “Sir, when you are not here, may I use the oven? I want to bake egg tarts to bring to my mother.”

Shang Qiyue glanced at him, his hand gently squeezing Mu Yan’s fair nape.

“Only a puppy needs its master’s permission for everything.”

“If you love reporting everything to me this much,” Shang Qiyue’s hand almost completely enveloped Mu Yan’s neck, “I’ll put a collar on you right here. The kind that only a puppy would wear.”

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