The Corporate Slave Beta Is Surrounded by Alphas - Chapter 10

Cheng An’s gaze shifted back to him, and Ji Ting snapped out of his daze instantly. He clicked the mouse to flip to the next page of the render and began explaining the design requirements in detail.

There were quite a few images to cover, and with Cheng An’s meticulous eye, Ji Ting ended up staying in his office for a long time.

[# Who has been in the kitten’s office for this long?]

[What on earth are they doing in there?]

[The kitten is all grown up; even without CEO L, he’s finding ways to satisfy his own ‘needs.’]

[I did some diggingit’s som eone from the Art Department, that intern. Fine, let’s just call him “Emergency Stop” (Ji Ting). This Emergency Stop guy has had enough time, don’t you think? Is he trying to seduce the kitten? What could possibly take that long to talk about?]

[Emergency Stop, come out! I know you’ve already surrendered to the kitten’s paws. That’s enough; you can’t hog all the cat-huffing for yourself.]

[Can someone from Tech go knock on the door?]

[Are you willing to become a part of the ‘play’? I’d gladly be a part of the kitten’s play.]

Cheng An heard a knock at the door. A voice followed: “Team Leader, I’m here to drop off the monitoring feedback.”

“Come in,” Cheng An said.

The person pushed the door open, their eyes darting quickly between Cheng An and Ji Ting. After handing over the documents, they left.

Cheng An resumed the discussion.

By the time they reached the last image, the meeting finally concluded. Cheng An felt a dull ache in his neck and shoulders, making him miss Song Boyan’s massage.

After Ji Ting left, he stood up to stretch and walked to the window, only then noticing that it had started to rain. It wasn’t just a drizzle the downpour was heavy. The skyscrapers were shrouded in dark clouds and torrential rain; he could vaguely hear the howling wind and the rhythmic drumming of rain against the glass.

He remembered his coffee was still waiting and wondered if it had gone cold. To go out in this weather would mean wet shoes and soggy clothes a cold, sticky sensation he loathed.

He checked his phone and saw several missed texts:

[Hello, your coffee is ready. Please remember to pick it up!]

[It’s been quite a while, so your coffee has gone cold. We’ve prepared a fresh one for you. Please come by when you can!]

He had been so engrossed in the discussion with Ji Ting that he’d missed them entirely. He typed a reply: [I’ll come by once the rain lets up. If it’s cold, there’s no need to remake it. Thank you.]

Almost immediately, a reply came back: [I’ve delivered it to your office building. If you have a moment, feel free to come down and grab it.]

Cheng An was surprised. He looked at the rain again, wondering how anyone could have braved such a storm to deliver a coffee. He knew this shop had good service, but he didn’t realize it was this good. Realizing the person might still be waiting in the cold, he hurried downstairs.

As he reached the entrance, he saw a man standing under the building’s overhang, sheltering from the rain. He wore a deep brown coffee shop uniform that fit his broad, upright frame perfectly. He was gazing out at the misty rain, cradling the coffee in his arms.

The packaging was bone-dry.

As Cheng An approached, the man heard his footsteps and turned around. The moment he saw Cheng An, a bright, enthusiastic smile broke across his face. He stepped forward. “I brought it to you. I didn’t want to trouble you to run over in this.”

His hair was damp, and droplets of water traced paths down his handsome, youthful face. His eyes were clear and bright as he watched Cheng An.

Cheng An took the bag. “Thank you.”

Noticing the water still dripping down the man’s cheek, Cheng An pulled a fresh pack of tissues from his pocket. “You should dry off. Sorry for making you wait so long.”

The man’s smile remained radiant. “Oh, no, it’s nothing!” He gave his hair a casual rub. “A little water is no big deal.” He shook his head like a puppy drying off, which only served to spray more water across his face, making him look even more drenched and slightly comical.

Cheng An didn’t say anything, simply handing him the tissue pack. Realizing he probably looked a bit disheveled, the man accepted them. His fingers brushed the plastic wrap carefully, his breathing turning light and shallow as his bright eyes locked onto Cheng An.

Cheng An looked up, meeting that gaze. His expression remained calm, though his eyes betrayed a hint of confusion.

“Ah, I… I’m Zhou Song,” the man stammered.

Cheng An didn’t quite understand why he was introducing himself so formally, but he gave a polite nod and offered a professional, “Hello.”

After he spoke, Zhou Song seemed to remember something. He scrambled to pull out his phone and said softly, “Sometimes the shop has new promotions. If you add my contact info, I can send them to you directly.” He looked nervous, his thumb rubbing the edge of his phone incessantly.

“Sure,” Cheng An replied.

“Thank you!” Zhou Song’s eyes lit up with genuine joy.

Cheng An turned and walked back inside with his coffee. Zhou Song remained standing there until Cheng An’s figure vanished from sight. He picked up the pack of tissues Cheng An had given him, his thumb gently caressing the surface.

Then, he lowered his head and inhaled the scent of the tissues.

Tissues carried on one’s person naturally pick up their scent. Even though Cheng An was a Beta without pheromones, that faint, clean fragrance was more intoxicating to Zhou Song than any Alpha or Omega scent. He took a deep breath, greedily drinking in the last lingering trace of the man.

“You look exhausted again,” Song Boyan noted.

“Do I?” Cheng An mumbled. He was feeling quite drowsy.

Song Boyan reached out and kneaded the back of Cheng An’s neck. Cheng An let out a low groan, his voice soft and weak from fatigue.

“Sitting all day? Your neck is so stiff,” Song Boyan said. He increased the pressure slightly. The stiffness initially felt sharp and aching, but it soon gave way to a wave of soothing relief. Cheng An opened his eyes to look at Song Boyan. The man was wearing his clinic uniform—a vintage-style tunic that gave him a refined, scholarly air.

He looked down, focused intently on the massage. His technique was masterful.

“Don’t you have other patients?” Cheng An asked. His neck had been so painful after work that he’d come straight here without calling ahead. He had expected a long wait, but shortly after he lay down, Song Boyan had appeared.

“My apprentices can handle them. If they can’t do anything without me, then they’ve wasted years of study,” Song Boyan said, his eyes crinkling with a smile as he looked at him. “I wanted to see what brought you here so suddenly. How’s the pressure?”

Cheng An turned back and lay face down obediently, his voice muffled by the pillow. His head bobbed slightly with the rhythm of the massage. “Mhm, it’s good.”

Even the neatest hair becomes a mess after a full day at the office. Cheng An’s hair was scattered across his nape. Song Boyan gently brushed the strands aside to continue the massage.

He touched the skin of that private area casually. Beneath his fingertips, the skin had grown warm and flushed a deep red. There was no gland there—the area was flat, and he could only feel the elegant, slender bone beneath. The spot was exposed, completely defenseless.

“An-an…” he whispered suddenly.

“…Mhm?” Cheng An was on the verge of sleep. The call sounded hazy, but he recognized it was for him and gave a faint response.

Soon, his breathing leveled out as he fell deeper into slumber. Song Boyan leaned down until his chest was almost pressing against Cheng An’s back.

The Alpha’s nose twitched slightly, as if trying to catch any scent lingering on that glandless skin. It was still that same faint, clean fragrance. But it seemed that because the company was full of Alphas, Cheng An always picked up a trace of their pheromones.

Those guys were like dogs marking their territory, secretly dousing him in their scent without him even knowing. While Song Boyan internally criticized them, he was doing the exact same thing.

“What am I going to do with you being so defenseless?” he sighed softly after finishing his “task.”

When Cheng An finally woke up, he checked the time; he had been there for nearly three hours. He rubbed his eyes, but his vision remained a blur. He reached for his glasses but couldn’t find them. Puzzled, he stood up to search for where they might have fallen.

It was late now, and the once-bustling clinic was silent. Cheng An crouched on the floor, eventually crawling halfway under the treatment bed. A chuckling voice drifted from across the room. “What’s going on here?” Song Boyan asked.

Cheng An tried to back out from under the bed, but the space was cluttered with boxes and supplies. He moved, but he was stuck his back was caught against the frame.

“I think I’m stuck,” he told Song Boyan. “I can’t get out.” Half his body was tucked under the bed. Because of the angle, his slacks were pulled tight, emphasizing the curve of his hips. His spine was arched, pressed firmly against the edge of the bed.

He tried to push back again, to no avail. He tried to shove the boxes aside, but they were too heavy. Then, he felt a presence right behind him. Song Boyan had crouched down.

“Dr. Song, help me push these boxes,” Cheng An said.

The room went quiet. He could feel a gaze lingering on him. Confused, he asked again, “Dr. Song? I can’t move these.”

Finally, Song Boyan spoke. “Alright.”

Song Boyan pressed close to him, his body heat radiating outward. Being an Alpha, he was naturally strong; he easily shoved aside the boxes that Cheng An couldn’t budge. Finally freed, Cheng An was pulled out by Song Boyan, who shielded his head from the frame.

The floor hadn’t been perfectly clean, and dust now clung to Cheng An’s dark hair. Song Boyan couldn’t help but laugh. “Why did you crawl down there? That gap is barely big enough for a cat. How did you even fit? You really are a little kitten.” He chuckled, brushing the dust from Cheng An’s head.

Embarrassed, Cheng An reached up to push his glasses into place only to remember he still hadn’t found them. “I didn’t ‘go’ in,” he muttered. “I just got stuck.”

Song Boyan’s hands were gentle as he patted the dust off Cheng An’s clothes. The airborne dust finally became too much; Cheng An let out a sneeze, then another.

Song Boyan pulled him up. “Come on, let’s get you out of here. This place is dangerous for you,” he teased.

He led Cheng An to another room. Without his glasses, Cheng An’s nearsightedness and astigmatism made the world a blur. He followed along, his deep grey eyes wide and unfocused, looking utterly dazed.

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