Li Qingchi rarely returned to the old estate, spending almost every night in the War Chain Department dormitory, occasionally staying at a hotel, though for him, it made no difference where he was.
Li Siyu was different from him. He actually enjoyed staying at the old estate, making the drive back and forth every day without complaint, from the estate to the War Chain Department in the morning, and from the War Chain Department back to the estate in the evening.
Today, however, he’d taken a sudden whim to return to the War Chain Department dormitory, but not to his own building. He went to his brother’s instead.
The moment he stepped through the door, he grabbed a few cherry tomatoes from the fruit bowl in the living room, then made his way upstairs with practiced familiarity and walked into the study.
Seeing him arrive, Li Qingchi wasn’t surprised. He continued flipping through his book without even lifting his head.
“Dune, good book.” Li Siyu commented casually, tossing a cherry tomato into his mouth.
Both brothers shared a habit: they never discussed work at home, especially anything related to the War Chain Department.
Li Siyu leaned against the bookshelf, his tone relaxed, completely different from how he was at the Department. “The Atreides family controls the universe through spice. In real society… some people control betas through pheromone resistance syndrome.”
Li Qingchi closed the book and looked up at him. “What are you trying to say?”
“Brother, I don’t know if you’ve seen a discussion thread, about four months ago, it was very popular. The topic was: are pheromones a symbol of superior genetics for humans, or a form of shackling?”
That thread had once swept across the internet, drawing tens of millions of participants into discussion. Such a simple little question had suddenly stirred up a massive uproar.
But it truly was the most fundamental question.
Li Qingchi remembered that thread well. “The discussion results at the time were overwhelmingly one-sided, almost everyone believed pheromones were a form of shackling for humans, not so-called superior genetics.”
Li Qingchi continued: “Some even proposed that betas, free people without glands, unshackled by pheromones, would eventually replace alphas as the dominant class in society.”
Li Siyu posed the question: “Brother, do you think betas can really replace alphas? Or rather, do they even want to?”
Li Qingchi set the book aside. “Does replacement matter? The key point is whether modern society is willing to accept such a shift. Alphas have held dominance for so long, it’s deeply entrenched. Do you think they’d accept it?”
Li Siyu let out a light laugh. “If they were willing to accept it, there wouldn’t be this sudden outbreak of pheromone resistance syndrome now.”
Then he asked again: “Who do you think ‘they’ really refers to?”
Li Qingchi didn’t mince words: “The upper-tier alphas of the War Chain Department.”
“Interesting, we’re thinking alike.” Li Siyu said. “Since they enjoy playing these games, let’s give them a proper game to play.”
…
After taking a full week of leave, Wen Zhiyu felt a sense of foreboding before he’d even stepped into the company.
Sure enough, the moment his front foot crossed the threshold, he felt a pair of eyes latch onto him like they were glued to his body. Wen Zhiyu immediately felt the hairs on his skin stand on end.
He walked to his workstation under that gaze. He’d barely set down his backpack when he heard a sharp, drawn-out “Little Wen-”
Wen Zhiyu’s movements froze.
Wen Zhiyu’s direct supervisor was a slippery old fox who loved shifting blame onto others. Wen Zhiyu had been burned by him more than once. Privately, he called him “Zhou the Bloodsucker.”
That donkey face in front of him, paired with that sickening tone, sent goosebumps across Wen Zhiyu’s entire body. He forced out a professional smile: “Good morning, Director Zhou.”
Zhou the Bloodsucker picked up his teacup and took a sip, his small eyes darting behind his glasses, his face radiating oily, worldly cunning. “Xiao Li said you took three days off?” He spoke with feigned gravity. “Young people need to understand priorities. How long has the War Chain Department project been dragging on…”
Then, suddenly leaning in, he lowered his voice and asked, “What, something happen at home?” The expression on his face was nothing short of sanctimonious.
Wen Zhiyu’s gaze landed on the tea stain at the corner of the other man’s mouth. He suddenly recalled how, after the last project failed, this man had unhesitatingly thrown the blame onto him. His tongue pressed against his back teeth: “Yes, something came up, I went to handle enrollment paperwork for my grandmother.”
Fight fire with fire.
Hearing this, Zhou the Bloodsucker lost his composure. His teacup slammed hard against the desk surface: “What the hell! Get serious. Have you finished the interior design drawings for the War Chain Department’s auxiliary dormitory?”
A face change at the drop of a hat.
“Revised to the seventh version, still rejected by the War Chain Department.” Wen Zhiyu leaned against the doorframe, watching Zhou the Bloodsucker’s veins bulge with rage.
“Those bastards at the War Chain Department, really a pain in the ass to deal with.” Zhou the Bloodsucker cursed as he paced back and forth across the office.
Back then, the War Chain Department had outsourced the interior design and decoration of the auxiliary dormitory to their company, and Wen Zhiyu had taken over the project.
Compared to architectural design, interior decoration design was simpler by more than a little. But who would have thought, the War Chain Department’s people had impossibly high standards, finding fault with this and that in the design drawings, sending them back multiple times.
Zhou the Bloodsucker had cursed out the War Chain Department people in his office more than a few times over this matter.
“Being so particular about the interior design, does he really think the dormitory is Buckingham Palace?” Zhou Papi’s brows furrowed, his anger blazing. “This time, you’ll deliver the blueprints yourself.”
Wen Zhiyu raised an eyebrow. Previously, this kind of errand-running task was always handled by the new interns. The fact that Zhou Papi was suddenly emphasizing that he should deliver it personally meant there had to be a catch.
Sure enough, Zhou Papi’s next words revealed his true intention: “Oh, and on the way, remember to buy a bouquet, red roses, for Major General Li.”
Wen Zhiyu sneered. “What, the project fell through and now you’re playing matchmaker?”
“Get out of here.” Zhou Papi waved his hand impatiently. He lowered his voice and leaned close to Wen Zhiyu’s ear, a mix of tobacco and a strong stench of bad breath invading Wen Zhiyu’s nostrils. “I’ve got new intel, Major General Li likes betas.”
So that was the angle.
Wen Zhiyu clenched his fist. Back then, Zhou Papi had overruled all objections to personally recruit him into the company. The reason was simple: Wen Zhiyu was a beta. Both omegas and alphas had their heat and rut cycles.
But he, an ordinary beta, was the perfect employee, unaffected by pheromones, able to serve as a 24/7 human battery.
In the early days at the company, Wen Zhiyu was either covering shifts for some alpha or filling in for some omega.
Zhou Papi was quite satisfied, believing Wen Zhiyu was realizing his full value.
But now, Zhou Papi’s gleaming eyes seemed to say: Heh heh, I’ve found yet another use for you.
Even his looks had to be squeezed dry, truly the capitalist way.
Wen Zhiyu: “Intel you got?”
“You know the biggest alpha club, Yulin Mansion?” Zhou Papi said smugly. “Got it from there. Guaranteed reliable.”
Zhou Papi continued with relish: “Apparently, Major General Li went to the club a week ago. Didn’t even glance at anyone else, went straight for a beta. Later, he even got into a brawl with another alpha over that beta, nearly beat the guy to death. When he walked out of the club, his face was black as coal dust.”
“They say Major General Li is as cold as ice, but look at him.” Zhou Papi let out a dismissive tsk.
“You’re not thinking of sending me to win him over, are you?” Wen Zhiyu asked tentatively.
Zhou Papi looked at Wen Zhiyu with an expression that said, Is there even a question?
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll offend this Major General Li?” Wen Zhiyu tried to talk him out of it. “This Major General Li is so fierce and bad-tempered. If he gets angry and beats me up, fine, but what if the project falls through?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Zhou Papi scanned Wen Zhiyu’s face. “That beta wasn’t nearly as fresh as you.”
“Let’s hope so.” Wen Zhiyu smiled without smiling.
“Alright, alright, get going. Don’t keep Major General Li waiting.” Zhou Papi pushed Wen Zhiyu toward the office door as he spoke.
The two of them got stuck together at the doorway, and Zhou Papi suddenly added: “Oh, and remember, just sell a bit of charm, that’s enough. Don’t let him bite you.”