The Little Wretch Differentiated into an Alpha - Chapter 4

Gu Yanxiu recognized the person. It was Lu Ye.

His hand tightened slightly on the reins, causing him to pause. Although Gu Yanxiu wasn’t particularly close to his own parents, he found it difficult to understand why Zhu Xinrou felt the need to be so spiteful toward her own biological child.

At least for the Gu family, such petty cruelty was unnecessary.

Lu Ye’s father had died during the critical period of Gu Yi’s election. To the Gu family, this was both an unforeseen complication and an opportunity. Lu Ye occupied an awkward social position: a youth from the outer harbor districts whose parents were both Betas.

It was common knowledge that two Betas could not produce any other secondary gender. A “commoner Beta” was a highly visible political symbol within the Blue Planet Council. By magnanimously taking him in, the Gu family had created a heartwarming narrative for the media a masterstroke of PR for a politician.

Gu Yanxiu understood this logic, and his father certainly did.

Years ago, Gu Yi had married Zhu Xinrou for a similar reason: the Lu Chengfeng case and the Beta rights movement had become intertwined. As a victim of that case, Zhu Xinrou was a public figure; by stepping in to settle the storm for her, Gu Yi had used the resulting goodwill to crush his business rivals.

For the current Gu family, supporting ten more children wouldn’t even make a dent in their finances. There was no reason to make life difficult for the boy over such trivialities.

Watching Lu Ye stop in front of the villa, Gu Yanxiu signaled with his reins, bringing his horse, Qingshuang, to a slow halt.

The villas on the estate were equipped with unified smart facial-recognition locks. Lu Ye stood at the entrance and rattled the handle a few times, but the door remained shut. It seemed Zhu Xinrou hadn’t bothered to register his face in the system.

Perfect timing, Gu Yanxiu thought. He turned and gestured for a servant near the stables to come over. He intended to have the servant tell Albert to move Lu Ye to a different house, partly to ensure the wild lynxes and foxes in the woods didn’t harm him, and partly to avoid any potential media backlash if something went wrong.

The servant jogged up to Gu Yanxiu’s horse. “Young Master, what are your orders?”

Gu Yanxiu gestured toward Lu Ye’s villa.

Just then, he watched as Lu Ye, unable to open the door, slung his backpack over one shoulder and stepped away from the entrance. He walked straight to the floor-to-ceiling window on the porch and delivered a sharp, efficient elbow strike.

Gu Yanxiu: 

The glass shattered, littering the floor. Lu Ye bent his head and lifted a leg, stepping over the jagged remains with practiced ease before disappearing inside.

The servant, still following Gu Yanxiu’s gaze, peered into the distance. “Young Master? What’s happening over there?”

“Nothing,” Gu Yanxiu replied after a long silence. “Just a burglar moving in.”

He shook his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

It seemed worrying about Lu Ye’s safety was entirely redundant. Given the boy’s proficiency at breaking and entering, Gu Yanxiu should probably be more worried about the safety of the lynxes in the forest.

Gu Yanxiu didn’t see Lu Ye again until the following morning, when it was time for school.

He remembered his father mentioning that Lu Ye was currently in high school and would be transferring to Caina Academy now that he had moved to the inner harbor. The school was located in a bustling district; the commute from the Gu estate required a long drive through the forest, making a car the only viable option.

As Gu Yanxiu boarded his vehicle, the driver, Uncle Li, said with a smile, “The Madam has arranged a separate car for Young Master Lu. I’ll take you to school first.”

Gu Yanxiu hummed in acknowledgment and opened his communicator. The school had already sent over the itinerary for the opening ceremony. He had prepared a speech the day before and needed the drive to review his notes.

The early autumn morning sun was pleasant. A holographic blue screen hovered before Gu Yanxiu as the shadows of trees flickered through the rolled-down window, dancing across his brow. He was so focused on his manuscript that he didn’t notice a pair of cold, silent eyes looking up from among the busy servants nearby, staring intently at his profile.

A bespoke three-piece suit from a private high school doesn’t suit everyone, much like the unnervingly pristine air of this district, or its unfamiliar foliage and birdsong.

Lu Ye sat in the back of a small cargo van. The uniform didn’t fit him right; the sleeves were a fraction too short. He looked like a piece of freight tucked into the back seat quiet, yet somewhat in the way. Servants bustled around him, loading freezer boxes into the truck.

This was the “transportation” Zhu Xinrou had arranged for him.

Zhu Xinrou’s position in the Gu household was precarious. Even an old hand like Albert didn’t show her much respect. Lately, she felt as though the servants were whispering behind her back everywhere she went calling her a Beta who had managed to climb high only to bring along a “tag-along” sired by another low-class Beta. She was a laughingstock in their eyes.

Consequently, she refused to waste any resources on Lu Ye. This grocery truck went down the mountain every morning for supplies; it was “convenient” for Lu Ye to hitch a ride. She hadn’t even consulted Albert, simply mentioning it to the driver to settle the matter.

The servants were not happy about it.

“Going to Caina Academy isn’t even on our route!” a servant complained while moving boxes, his voice drifting through the window to Lu Ye’s ears.

“Exactly. We only have two hours for the whole supply run. Detouring to the school gate is going to waste half our time.”

“Why didn’t the Madam just ask Mr. Albert? It’s just one extra car.”

Inside the van, Lu Ye acted as if he heard nothing. His gaze shifted from the mechanics of the truck’s cabin and lifted indifferently, catching sight of a sedan slowly pulling away outside.

It was a polished, black luxury vehicle equipped with the Blue Planet’s most advanced internal combustion engine and braking system. Lu Ye had seen cars like it when he was a child; he had even stripped an engine of the same model when he was eight. But technology in the Federation changed daily. He had heard that steel had been entirely replaced by molecular polymers in newer models.

He hadn’t seen one up close in years.

As the car accelerated and the engine hummed, Lu Ye’s gaze swept over it. Just as he was about to look away, he saw Gu Yanxiu.

The private school uniform looked as if it had been designed specifically for him. The three-piece suit was perfectly tailored and dignified; his hair was styled with elegant precision. Through the triangular window, Gu Yanxiu sat with his eyes downcast, his lashes remarkably long, the blue light of his communicator reflecting off his face. Despite his quiet, focused expression, he carried the aura of a proud, noble stag with magnificent antlers.

He looked exactly as he had yesterday.

Standing behind the glass cage of a roaring leopard, wearing that same uniform—aristocratic, arrogant, and poised like a cold superior, observing him with calm detachment. There was no hatred, but no pity either; only a chillingly even-handed indifference.

In Lu Ye’s repair shop, there was an old television from the last century. He had seen people like this on screen before the high-class gentlemen of 20th-century films.

But seeing someone like that in the present felt out of place. It was like a butterfly specimen in a frame, meticulously kept inside a glass conservatory as exquisite and fragile as the inner harbor district itself.

One drop, and it would shatter.

Lu Ye’s gaze trailed over the fair, slender nape of Gu Yanxiu’s neck as the other boy leaned forward slightly. A light breeze blew, making the leaves rustle. A few yellowing leaves drifted down, and a stray lock of Gu Yanxiu’s hair was displaced by the wind, brushing against his ear.

That was when Lu Ye saw it: a tiny red mole, resting upon the bone of his ear.

Once they reached the highway at the foot of the mountain, Lu Ye was dropped off at the nearest bus stop.

“Young Master Lu, you’ll have to take the bus from here. We have our own work to do and can’t afford any more delays.”

The servants called him “Young Master Lu,” but their tone held no respect. The one sitting next to the driver muttered, “Yeah, if we’re late with the groceries, Mr. Albert will have our heads.”

Lu Ye opened the door with one hand and stepped out. The morning air was clean, unlike the perpetual smog and grit of District IV.

As the bus pulled up, Lu Ye caught his reflection in the window. The superficial wounds on his face had mostly healed, leaving only a faint bruise at the corner of his mouth. To Lu Ye, it didn’t even qualify as an injury, but ever since he boarded the bus, it had drawn a flurry of surreptitious stares.

Seeing someone in a Caina Academy uniform on a public bus was strange enough, but a student from a top-tier private school with signs of a fistfight on his face was unheard of.

In this century, those who considered themselves part of high society took pride in their “elegant restraint.” They believed that losing control due to pheromone fluctuations was the behavior of unevolved savages. Who would walk around in public with visible wounds?

Everyone was guessing who he was. Not just because of the bruise, but because he was strikingly handsome and entirely unfamiliar. Was he the child of a new official? A scion of a conglomerate from another continent? Whatever the case, his background couldn’t be simple.

Lu Ye ignored the wandering eyes.

When he reached the school gates, someone suddenly blocked his path. He looked up.

It was a boy—remarkably pretty, with flushed ears. Two of his friends stood behind him, whispering and egging him on with expectant smiles. “Go for it, Sakura!”

The boy looked up at Lu Ye. “Hello there. I’m Yuan Ling-Sakura a first-year. Are you a new student?” His cheeks were crimson. “The scent on you is so unique. Have you presented yet?”

Presenting secondary gender differentiation early wasn’t exactly a badge of honor. It was well known that the secondary gender usually manifested after age sixteen; typically, the earlier the differentiation, the lower the overall rating. An Alpha who presented at sixteen would likely be a D-rank at best, perhaps even an F.

Yet the boy’s eyes were clear, showing no sign of disdain.

Lu Ye didn’t even look up. He checked his watch and walked right past them toward the gate. However, the movement of his wrist seemed to embolden Yuan Ling-Sakura, who hurried to catch up.

“Wow, your communicator is such a unique style! Is it a custom build?”

Lu Ye glanced at his own wrist. It was a discarded old watch from a scrap heap; he had adjusted the movement himself just to make it functional.

“Let’s add each other. If there’s anything you don’t understand about the school, you can ask me directly,” the boy said, playfully shaking his own delicate, high-end communicator.

Lu Ye didn’t slow his pace. As he passed the boy, his voice was flat and cold.

“I don’t have a communicator.”

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