Why is this top-tier Alpha boss acting like this? - Chapter 3

Song Yang’s early awakening immediately drew everyone’s focus. Elder Master Song instantly tossed any concern for a mere employee like Cheng Yan to the back of his mind.

Cheng Yan breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He pressed the call bell by the bed and stayed rooted in the corner, content to act as a transparent observer.

Song Yang’s early recovery was indeed unusual. The doctor arrived quickly—a renowned specialist with thick glasses known for treating countless Alphas. He examined Song Yang meticulously. When he reached the back of Song Yang’s head, the young man couldn’t help but let out a sharp, shallow hiss of pain.

The doctor pressed the area lightly. “There’s an external injury here. The CT scan shows no internal issues, but do you feel anything other than pain? Nausea, vomiting, or dizziness?”

Song Yang shook his head. “No.”

The doctor nodded, flipping through the medication logs and test reports several times. Finally, he sighed with professional admiration. “The physical constitution of an S-class Alpha is far superior to that of an average Alpha. Waking up now is within the realm of possibility for him. I’ll add some supplementary medication to speed up recovery. If there’s no further discomfort, he can eat something to regain his strength and move around in moderation. Ring the bell if anything comes up.”

Once the doctor left, the atmosphere in the room lightened. The bag Elder Master Song brought contained Song Yang’s toiletries and a thermal container filled with porridge.

Song Yang, who had been bedridden all night, recovered with terrifying speed. Within ten minutes, the lethargy he had shown upon waking had vanished. He was already in the VIP bathroom fussing with his toiletries.

With his grandson out of sight, Song Jicheng’s attention swerved back to Cheng Yan.

The smile on his face faded slightly. “What happened to the injury on the back of Song Yang’s head?”

Song Jicheng spoke at a moderate pace, his emotions seemingly level. However, when someone has held power for as long as he has, every gesture carries a unique majesty; his words naturally weighed heavier than anyone else’s.

Cheng Yan’s spine went rigid. Cold sweat trickled down his neck and into his collar.

Smashing Song Yang with a wine bottle had been an impulsive move. Even if he hadn’t had time to find a safer method and his intention was to save the man, a hit was a hit. Song Yang was injured because of him, and there was no denying it.

He lifted his head to face Song Jicheng and spoke firmly, “It was—”

“I fell and hit it myself. What about it?”

Just as Cheng Yan was about to confess, Song Yang’s deep voice rang out again. Though his speech was slightly muffled from the bathroom, it didn’t stop him from cutting Cheng Yan off with such precision that Cheng Yan wondered if the man had left an ear behind in the room to eavesdrop.

Cheng Yan turned his head to see a tall figure standing at the bathroom door.

Song Yang was brushing his teeth, his mouth full of white foam, but that didn’t stop him from talking nonsense. “Why are you giving Cheng Yan a hard time? He can’t control whether I trip or not. I felt like falling for fun; could he have stopped me?”

Song Yang paused to rinse his mouth. When he spoke again, his articulation was much clearer. “If anything, you should give him a red envelope. If it weren’t for him, my glands might be ruined by now. You really ought to thank him.”

The sheer gall of this man…

Cheng Yan lowered his head, hiding his incredulous expression.

Song Jicheng was so angry he actually laughed. “Are they your glands or mine? Your glands were saved, and you want me to thank him? Why don’t you thank him yourself?”

By then, Song Yang had finished cleaning up. He walked out and sprawled onto the sofa with zero regard for his image. Hearing his grandfather’s words, he followed the suggestion with ease. “I should thank him? Sure! Cheng Yan, thanks!”

His tone was the literal definition of sarcasm.

Cheng Yan pursed his lips and kept his mouth shut tight. He was afraid that if he reflexively replied “You’re welcome,” it would be no different from handing in a resignation letter.

With Song Yang disrupting the interrogation, Song Jicheng seemed to lose interest in pursuing the topic. The Chairman, who had dominated the business world for half a century, suppressed his irritation and poured a bowl of porridge for his grandson. “Settle down and eat something.”

Song Yang looked down, took the bowl to be polite, but then just stirred it around with a spoon for ages without taking a single bite.

Song Jicheng turned his face away, unable to look at his grandson’s infuriating attitude. But after a few minutes, he couldn’t help but speak. “This happened because you don’t have anyone by your side. That’s why people think they can just shove an Omega at you. Count how many times this has happened now. You’re not a child anymore; just find a proper partner. Once you have someone, we won’t be so vulnerable if this happens again. Look at this situation—a simple bite could have solved everything, yet here we are at the hospital, wasting public resources and dragging poor Cheng Yan in during his vacation to clean up your mess…”

Standing in the corner, Cheng Yan shifted slightly. He understood now. Elder Master Song’s nagging boiled down to one thing: he wanted Song Yang to find an Omega who could soothe him.

An Alpha without an Omega’s pheromones to calm them is often more prone to irritability. While those with high self-control fare better, Song Yang—who already had a short fuse—had become a powder keg, making life miserable for everyone around him.

Pheromone stability is closely tied to emotion. Unstable emotions lead to abnormal pheromone fluctuations, which in turn fuel more anger—a vicious cycle. An Alpha with out-of-control pheromones is a liability. As the heir to the Song Corporation, Song Yang’s behavior affected the company’s image. Both Song Jicheng and the shareholders wanted him paired with a soothing Omega as soon as possible.

But what Song Yang hated most was being controlled—especially regarding his personal life. Mentioning it was the fastest way to set him off.

Sure enough, Song Yang’s expression soured. He set the porridge on the coffee table and leaned back lazily, looking like a “dead pig who doesn’t fear boiling water.”

“I don’t like Omegas,” he said flatly.

The Elder Master took a few deep breaths to suppress his rage. “You don’t like Omegas? Fine! A Beta is fine too! Just bring someone home!”

Song Jicheng’s logic was simple: if Song Yang refused an Omega, a steady Beta partner would suffice. Even without the biological chemistry between an Alpha and an Omega, a stable, intimate relationship could provide some emotional grounding. It was better than nothing.

But the man in question clearly didn’t agree.

Song Yang cast a subtle glance toward the man standing behind his grandfather. As if on a rebellious whim, he spoke with the malice of a teenager trying to provoke his parents. “Who said I like Betas?”

If he doesn’t like Omegas or Betas, that only leaves…

Cheng Yan, who had somehow made eye contact with Song Yang, froze for a split second before a single thought flashed through his mind: Is he asking for a beating?

In the next second, the furious Elder Master raised his cane to strike Song Yang, but Assistant Li held him back. “Chairman, Mr. Song is still injured. Please, calm down…”

Song Jicheng’s hand paused in mid-air. He lowered the cane reluctantly, but he couldn’t let it go. He pointed at Song Yang and roared, “You don’t want an Omega, you don’t like Betas—do you seriously want to find a damn Alpha?!”

Song Yang rubbed his ear, maintaining his lazy posture. “I didn’t say that. But since you brought it up, maybe I should give it a try?”

That one flippant sentence set the Elder Master off again. The old man threw his cane down and launched into a tirade.

Seeing the cane drop, Cheng Yan made a graceful exit from the room. He was just an employee; no boss likes being seen by their subordinates while getting a tongue-lashing.

The hospital door’s soundproofing was limited. Rubbing his aching forehead, Cheng Yan listened to the shouting from within. He truly admired Song Jicheng; despite Song Yang’s relentless provocations, the old man hadn’t had a heart attack yet. His stamina for scolding was impressive, and his vocabulary was so diverse that his “repetition rate” was lower than a college graduation thesis.

The scene finally ended when a nurse arrived with a trolley to set up Song Yang’s IV drip. Song Jicheng left the room fuming, his face flushed but his stride much more vigorous than when he had arrived. He was clearly beyond livid.

Cheng Yan glanced at Song Yang, who was sitting on the sofa scrolling through his phone while hooked up to the IV. After a moment of hesitation, Cheng Yan quietly closed the door and followed Song Jicheng. He caught up with the two men at the elevator bank around the corner.

Song Jicheng didn’t seem surprised to see him. The rage had vanished from his face, replaced by his usual calm smile.

Cheng Yan blinked. He noticed the elevator button hadn’t been pressed. Song Jicheng had known he would follow; he was waiting for him.

He straightened his back, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Chairman, I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Song Jicheng chuckled, looking nothing like the man who was just screaming. “Not at all. You were quite fast.”

Cheng Yan took a deep breath. “The injury on Mr. Song’s head was from me hitting him with a wine bottle. I am truly sorry.”

He didn’t offer excuses. He stated the fact and expressed sincere apology.

Song Jicheng nodded, his smile unchanging. “I guessed as much. And I knew you would come to me to admit it.”

The Chairman reached out and patted Cheng Yan’s shoulder twice. “When I sent you to work for Song Yang, I said you were the right fit for him. It seems I wasn’t wrong. Although you aren’t at fault for what happened, he was injured. If I don’t punish you, others will think Song Yang is someone they can put their hands on. You know how punchable that brat is; eventually, someone else might lose their temper with him. How about this: I’ll take 20% off your salary this month. What do you think?”

Cheng Yan naturally had no objections. Although it stung his wallet, being able to pay his way out of trouble was the lightest punishment he could have hoped for. “Of course, Chairman.”

Satisfied, Song Jicheng patted him twice more. Assistant Li pressed the elevator button, and Cheng Yan waited with them until they entered.

Once they were gone, Cheng Yan slumped against the wall, his strength leaving him. He sat down on a nearby bench. A ray of sunlight hit his face, offering a touch of warmth. He closed his eyes, letting his mind go blank. Dealing with a man like Song Jicheng was always exhausting.

After a while, the sun grew too hot. He checked his phone for the time and saw a transaction notification. He had set his phone to silent the night before to avoid disturbing Song Yang.

Five minutes ago, someone had transferred money to him. He opened it: 500,000. The sender was… Song Jicheng?

This didn’t just cover his deducted salary; it was hundreds of thousands extra.

Confused, he opened his chat with Assistant Li. There was a new message from five minutes ago.

Assistant Li: [The Chairman says that thanks to you, the young master’s glands were saved. This is a token of his gratitude. Just remember to hit him a little lighter next time.]

Reading the message, Cheng Yan thought of Song Yang’s shameless comment in the hospital room and wanted to laugh. Song Yang saves his own glands, but makes his grandfather pay the “red envelope.”

And the craziest part was that Song Jicheng actually paid it.

He typed back: “Please thank the Chairman for me.”

He understood. Song Jicheng was telling him that the punishment was for show, but as a grandfather, he was grateful. It was likely also a sign of approval for Cheng Yan’s honesty and accountability.

Cheng Yan put his phone away and rubbed his stiff face.

His “office politics” battery for the day was officially drained.

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