TPLTMOE - Chapter 11

Seeing the obediently sent photo from the other person, Jiang Zhiyu’s lips curled faintly at the corners. He didn’t reply, instead flipping his phone face-down on the desk before lazily lifting his gaze, his piercing eyes locking onto the person standing in front of the projection screen with unmistakable dominance.

"Securing this collaboration was indeed no small feat. The group should naturally reward the branch company for their efforts—but additional investment?" His tone shifted abruptly, a light chuckle escaping him. "That’s inappropriate."

The moment these words left his mouth, Managers C, D, and E—who had been carefully gauging his reaction—immediately seized the opportunity to pledge their loyalty.

"I also felt it was a bit hasty just now. This is only the first collaboration, and yet they’re asking for an additional two percentage points in investment. Isn’t that a bit excessive?" Manager B chimed in.

"Exactly. The profit margins in Southeast Asia are already smaller compared to domestic and European markets, not to mention the additional manpower and resources required. The returns hardly justify the costs," Manager C added.

"I agree with both of them. If the branch company wants to push for additional investment, they’ll need to provide more detailed data to support their request. Otherwise, our department won’t be able to approve it," Manager D declared solemnly.

Seeing the three of them unanimously opposed, Manager A promptly fell silent.

Jiang Shengyi watched the scene unfold, knowing full well that Jiang Zhiyu was deliberately opposing him. All he wanted was a little extra investment to ensure the smooth progress of the project, yet Jiang Zhiyu had coldly shut him down without hesitation.

Slapping the documents onto the conference table, he forced a smile. "Fine. We’ll do as you say. I’ll have my team prepare more detailed reports. But when the time comes, two percentage points might not be enough—I’ll need at least five."

Jiang Zhiyu tapped his fingers lightly against the table, his voice low and firm. "Agreed."

Once the meeting adjourned, Jiang Zhiyu was the first to leave the conference room. Jiang Shengyi called out from behind him—"Little Uncle."

The others nearby pretended not to hear, quickly lowering their heads and making themselves scarce.

Jiang Zhiyu paused, casting a cold glance over his shoulder.

Jiang Shengyi sauntered up to him with a grin, fully aware that his uncle disliked being addressed so familiarly in the company. He deliberately played it off with a teasing tone. "Alright, alright, I know—next time, I’ll call you ‘President Jiang,’ got it? But Grandma insisted I ask you in person. Great-Grandfather’s memorial day is coming up in a couple of days. Will you be returning to the old estate?"

Jiang Shengyi’s great-grandfather—Jiang Zhiyu’s own grandfather—was the man who had single-handedly built the Jiang empire. This year marked the thirtieth anniversary of his passing.

Jiang Zhiyu gave no definite answer. "We’ll see."

Watching his retreating figure, Jiang Shengyi gritted his teeth in silent frustration.

His uncle seemed born to stand at the pinnacle of power and ambition, aloof as a deity who had long discarded mortal desires. In his eyes, no one in this world was worthy of his regard.

We’re both Jiangs. We share the same blood. So why is he the one sitting atop the throne, while I have to tread carefully, living by his whims and orders?

Seething with resentment, Jiang Shengyi pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

***

Ling Ran was sprawled across his bed, studying the ankle restraint suppressor, when he received a call from Jiangzhou Entertainment—notifying him of his final interview at the group’s headquarters next week.

For a moment, he thought he’d misheard.

After repeatedly confirming with the caller that it was indeed Jiangzhou Entertainment’s news division, Ling Ran was so elated he didn’t know what to do with himself. Hanging up, he hugged his phone in a daze, grinning like an idiot for a good long while.

He had assumed he’d long since been written off. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect Jiangzhou’s HR director to personally call him, enthusiastically inviting him to the final round.

It felt like a massive stroke of luck had fallen straight from the sky, nearly knocking him senseless.

Still, he hadn’t forgotten about repaying Jiang Zhiyu. He quickly searched online for the price of the suppressor.

The six-digit figure that flashed on the screen made his heart sink. Glancing at his meager WeChat balance, Ling Ran’s face fell.

He thought of borrowing from Qin Chengyue, but Qin Chengyue was just a soon-to-graduate student himself, perpetually broke by the end of every month. Right now, he was penniless.

Ling Ran sighed. Though his family was well-off, his parents’ monthly allowance was modest—just enough to cover daily expenses.

He didn’t want to tell his family about his illness. It would only stir up unnecessary drama, and he’d likely get scolded for potentially jeopardizing the Jiang family engagement. Having learned his lesson, he resolved to earn the money for his treatment himself.

He transferred the entirety of his remaining balance—just over two thousand—to Jiang Zhiyu, along with a message:

[No Grapes]: I’m really sorry, this is all I have right now. I’ll find a way to repay the rest as soon as possible. Also… thank you so much.

He stared at his phone for a long time, but the payment remained unclaimed, and there was no reply.

Then, Jiang Shengyi’s call suddenly came through.

Ling Ran hesitated. At the very last ring, he finally picked up.

"Why’d you take so long to answer? Didn’t I tell you to set a special ringtone for me? You knew it was me—why didn’t you pick up faster?"

Jiang Shengyi’s tone was sharp, his anger palpable even through the phone.

Ling Ran gripped his phone tightly, his voice soft. "I… I didn’t hear it at first."

"What are you even busy with all day? Never doing anything worthwhile. Have you even visited Grandma while I’ve been away? She’s always saying how much she misses you—can’t you at least show some filial piety and keep her company?"

Ling Ran’s chest tightened with hurt. Not only did he visit Grandma Jiang often, but he always brought her gifts and nutritional supplements—probably showing her more affection than Jiang Shengyi himself ever had.

"I did go—"

Jiang Shengyi cut him off impatiently. "Don’t go anywhere tomorrow. I’ll send someone to pick you up."

After all, Ling Ran was his nominal fiancé. For an occasion as significant as Great-Grandfather’s memorial, Ling Ran had to make an appearance in front of the Jiang family.

As for whether Ling Ran had other plans that day or was willing to attend—that wasn’t something Jiang Shengyi considered.

After all, this little Omega was madly in love with him. No matter what he demanded, Ling Ran would always agree.

But this time, Ling Ran stayed silent for a long time, refusing to comply immediately.

Jiang Shengyi found it odd. "What, don’t tell me you actually have plans tomorrow? Even if you do, cancel them. You’re practically a Jiang now—family matters come first."

Ling Ran clutched the phone, biting his lip silently.

"Shengyi… have you and Yin Chu known each other for a long time?"

Jiang Shengyi froze, as if caught off guard by the question.

Had he figured something out?

"So what if we have?" Jiang Shengyi replied, tone dripping with condescension. "The Yin and Jiang families are old friends. Yin Chu’s family will be at the memorial tomorrow too. We’re just friends—what’s the issue?"

A mist seemed to cloud Ling Ran’s vision. "Just friends? Then the broadcast studio you donated to the film academy… that was for Yin Chu, wasn’t it?"

It was only later that Ling Ran discovered Yin Chu was also an alumnus of his school, a graduate of the same broadcasting program.

Back then, Ling Ran had fallen for Jiang Shengyi precisely because of that studio. When he first enrolled, news spread that Jiang Shengyi had funded an entire broadcasting complex for the film academy—one rivaling top-tier media outlets.

At the time, the broadcasting department was an overlooked niche. But with that state-of-the-art facility, students gained the drive to pursue fieldwork, interviews, and live broadcasts, eventually turning the program into one of the academy’s most prestigious.

Ling Ran had admired Jiang Shengyi for it, believing him to be a visionary. Coupled with the influence of their destined Alpha-Omega bond, he’d convinced himself his feelings ran deep.

But now, with the suppressor clamped around his ankle, his mind felt startlingly clear—free from the fog of pheromones.

Jiang Shengyi scoffed. "Ling Ran, must you assume the worst of everyone? Are you accusing Yin Chu and me of having an affair? Where’s your proof? Don’t slander him—someone like you has no right to drag his name through the mud."

Ling Ran’s chest constricted sharply.

Someone like him?

Jiang Shengyi hung up in a rage, leaving Ling Ran gripping his phone, heart pounding.

The way Jiang Shengyi reacted whenever Yin Chu was mentioned…

Suddenly, Ling Ran knew—he had to get to the truth.

***

The next morning, Jiang Shengyi sent a car to the Ling residence as promised.

Ling Suan practically shoved his younger brother out the door, giddy with excitement. "For Jiang Shengyi to take you to such an important event means he’s ready to introduce you to the whole family!"

"Jiang Zhiyu—‘Little Uncle’—will likely be there too. He’s Shengyi’s uncle, so you must get on his good side." Ling Suan lowered his voice. "In fact, pleasing him matters even more than pleasing Jiang Shengyi. Understood?"

Ling Ran nodded absently. "Got it, gege."

The Jiang ancestral estate was nestled halfway up a mountain, its grounds sprawling across the hillside. The winding road up passed a golf course, equestrian grounds, swimming pavilions, and a ceramics studio before cutting through dense woods. Finally, a grand archway of white marble came into view, solemn and imposing.

Beyond the gates, the estate unfolded in classical Chinese splendor—lotus ponds, cascading water features, and zigzagging corridors. A central lake teemed with clouds of koi, flanked by symmetrical residences that bore the marks of careful restoration.

Ling Ran’s eyes widened. This was his first time at the Jiang family’s ancestral home, and its opulence left him uneasy.

The vast lawn by the lake was already lined with luxury cars, guests mingling in somber black-and-white attire. As the car pulled up and Ling Ran stepped out, conversations halted mid-sentence.

All eyes turned to the slender, striking Omega lingering at the periphery. His peach-blossom eyes—bright yet timid—darted nervously across the crowd, as if afraid to step forward.

"Who’s that? Never seen him before."

"Here for the memorial, I suppose. But why alone? An Omega… could he be an illegitimate Jiang?"

Tang Jun, attending in his father’s stead, glanced over—and his gaze stuck.

"Illegitimate? Doesn’t look like a Jiang to me." He licked his lips, grinning. "With that face? More like someone’s kept pet. Bet he heard there’d be powerful Alphas here and came sniffing around."

Laughter rippled through the group. These were old-money elites, well-versed in the unsavory undercurrents of high society.

And Tang Jun? One glance was all it took to appraise an Omega’s… qualities.

That narrow waist? Damn.

Swaggering over, he planted himself in front of Ling Ran. "Hey there, pretty thing. Here all by your lonesome? No Alpha to keep you company?"

Ling Ran scanned the crowd, but Jiang Shengyi was nowhere in sight.

"I’m here to meet someone."

Tang Jun didn’t hesitate to reach out and grab his shoulder. "Who are you looking for? Why don’t you tell gege? I know everyone here—gege can take you to find them."

Ling Ran dodged his touch, stepping back quickly. "Thank you, but that won’t be necessary."

The way the Omega shied away only made Tang Jun’s fingers itch. Undeterred, he grinned and went for Ling Ran’s hand instead. "Gege loves playing the hero—especially for pretty little Omegas like you. Come on, don’t be shy."

When his fingers brushed the back of Ling Ran’s hand, the Alpha’s gaze turned openly predatory. A wave of revulsion shot through Ling Ran, and he stumbled back another step—only for his heel to catch on a loose pebble.

He nearly toppled backward.

Tang Jun lunged forward, eager to catch that slender waist—but his arms froze mid-air, as if flash-frozen.

Ling Ran didn’t hit the ground. Instead, his back collided with a solid, warm chest—broad enough to envelop his slight frame entirely.

His heart skipped.

Startled, he glanced up, long lashes fluttering. All he caught was a glimpse of a cold, devastatingly sharp profile.

"Little Uncle…"

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