SATC C2

Chapter 2 – Choice

Taking the Jingha Expressway from the capital to Yushui City on the Bohai coast required three hours. By the time they set off, night had already begun to fall.

It was early summer; Yushui, their destination, was a renowned tourist spot. There were long queues at both the highway entrance and exit. Moreover, their superior, Ling Feng, was already waiting for them at the villa. Chu Yang dared not waste time. He simply ordered someone to find a random Chinese restaurant, pack up meals, and hand them out to the other four colleagues.

One portion was for Ling Yibo.

He wasn’t sure if Ling Yibo could stomach such take-out meals, but time was tight, and this was the best they could do.

Hmm…

If he couldn’t stomach it, then he could go hungry. After all, the chief hadn’t said he couldn’t; what mattered most was arriving at the destination within the allotted time.

But during his overseas assignment, Chu Yang had heard from colleagues that Ling Yibo’s routine over the past three years had been irregular, his appetite poor. He ate at odd hours, so his stomach was likely in bad shape.

“Can you eat this?” Chu Yang asked, after all. “If it doesn’t suit your taste, I can buy something else.”

He knew Ling Yibo’s palate well—picky, selective. If he liked something, he’d eat quietly; if not, he wouldn’t even spare it a glance. Whether street food or Michelin-starred dishes, it didn’t matter. He had no particular preferences—if he weren’t an S-class Alpha, he would never have grown this tall and robust.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to eat it? The dishes look decent,” Ling Yibo said as he took the meal box and prepared to get out of the car. “I’ll go eat with them.”

In the next moment, Chu Yang’s gaze darkened.

Like a Doberman, his alert ears instantly pricked up.

Seeing his expression, Ling Yibo chuckled, feigning innocence. “I said I wouldn’t run, so I won’t. If I really wanted to run, could you even catch me?”

“You can’t beat me,” Chu Yang stated plainly, unwilling to argue and simply stating the objective fact.

“I couldn’t beat you before. Now? That’s not so certain.”

Chu Yang’s gaze remained cold. “Your pheromones have no effect on me.”

“Pheromone suppression—I never stooped to using that on you before. I won’t now, either.”

With that, Ling Yibo jumped out of the car. Lifting his arm, he revealed the car keys—previously placed in the console by bodyguard Zhou Du—dangling from his little finger, swaying deliberately for Chu Yang to see.

Chu Yang’s chest tightened. Ling Yibo let out a short laugh, clearly pleased to have achieved his aim, then pocketed the keys and swaggered off to stand by the car, eating from the meal box alongside the four bodyguards.

Chu Yang forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down.

Don’t engage him.

Ling Yibo was no longer the coddled brat from Chu Yang’s memories. He had grown taller and sturdier, only half a head shorter than the new bodyguard, with solid muscles forged from basketball and fitness training…

Add to that the natural physical superiority of an Alpha, and in close combat, Chu Yang no longer had a guaranteed victory.

Unlike three years ago, Chu Yang could now confirm with certainty—Ling Yibo’s pheromones truly had no effect on him.

The new recruit, Chen Jiali, stood at 1.92 meters. A recently discharged special forces Alpha, he had big double-lidded eyes, was bold and brash, and called Chu Yang “Yang-ge”1 cheerfully, regardless of Chu’s lack of secondary gender status. He held no airs, treating Chu as a role model and idol in the workplace.

When the second young master suddenly joined them, meal box in hand with three meat and three vegetable dishes, Chen Jiali felt a wave of oppressive pressure. He instinctively edged away, casting Chu Yang a pleading look for rescue.

Chu Yang gave him a slight nod, signaling: Relax.

Chen Jiali obediently nodded back. Noticing Chu Yang only drinking juice, he leaned toward his colleagues and whispered, “Yang-ge isn’t eating again!”

“Chief Chu’s dieting. Said his body fat went up while stationed in Southeast Asia.”

“Must’ve been eating well over there, huh? I saw him in the dorm bathroom once—he’s got lean muscle everywhere. How’d he gain weight?”

The others mumbled in reply.

Chen Jiali gulped down a bite of rice. “You don’t get it—lean muscle is still muscle. Yang-ge won a combat championship, you know.”

Bodyguard work was high-paying and high-intensity, but extremely replaceable. Someone like Chu Yang, who appeared slim, relied entirely on speed, technique, and explosive power in combat. The moment his physical condition declined, he’d be replaced in an instant.

Crisis management expertise, VIP protection skills, fluency in Japanese, Korean, English, and French—none of that was Chu Yang’s real brilliance in Chen Jiali’s eyes. What impressed him most was Chu Yang’s lack of emotion.

A qualified private bodyguard must be calm, rational, and unemotional—a lesson drilled into them during corporate training, though Chen himself had yet to master it.

Snapping back to reality, Chen Jiali belatedly snatched a piece of meat from his colleague’s bowl and huffed, “Screw you! Who told you to look at him when he’s shirtless!”

The colleague nudged him with a shoulder, muttering, “Who doesn’t like looking at good-looking people? What’s wrong with sneaking a glance?”

“All right, I’m done eating.”

Ling Yibo’s voice cut in, directed toward the car: “Get ready to leave immediately.”

“Yes, sir.”

Those inside the vehicle promptly got out to greet him.

Chen Jiali didn’t think he’d said anything wrong—he nearly choked on his rice.

The cross-province journey took three full hours. Chu Yang fought off sleep, staying alert. From time to time, he directed adjustments to the car’s air-conditioning according to Ling Yibo’s sleep reactions—a habit he had formed over years of guarding him, one he never repeated with any other client.

Three years together, three years apart—a total of six years.

Those three years apart felt as though they had erased the past entirely, resetting everything to zero, forcing them to start over.

The MPV rolled along the coastal road, ascending a sloping path.

In June, Yushui had yet to see its tourist peak. Few cars or pedestrians traveled the road, like a night still asleep before dawn, awaiting a grand sunrise lying in quiet repose.

The distant sea was unfathomable; waves blurred on the horizon, sea wind bracing against the skin. The only constant in sight was a wavering white line.

At night, the coast was mysterious and stirring.

Stars and moon hung overhead; faint trails marked the routes of passing ships.

The MPV stopped midway up the slope. Clusters of dark trees cast cage-like shadows, enveloping car and figures alike.

Beyond the trees, the villa glowed brightly. Shadows of people and cars swayed with the rustling branches, the house lights flickering faintly with them.

Chu Yang stepped out, bowed slightly, and said softly at the door: “Please disembark, we’ve arrived.”

The group escorted Ling Yibo up the marble steps to the villa.

The villa loomed austere and cold; sensor lights glinted dimly against the harsh stone.

A swipe of the keycard opened the heavy doors, revealing the living room’s lone source of light.

Chu Yang halted, turned slightly, and gave a low command: “Jiali, you all wait in the car. If something comes up, I’ll call you.”

Chen Jiali’s face lit up.

He had no desire to witness his employer’s private affairs—or stumble into some hellish domestic scene. Catching the keys Chu Yang tossed him, he replied quickly, “Got it, Yang-ge!”

From the moment they arrived in Yushui, Ling Yibo had been silent—until now.

“You wait outside too.”

Chu Yang turned, realizing the gaze was directed at him. “Me?”

Ling Yibo hummed lazily, a hint of self-mockery in his tone. “It’s just family drama—rotten and worthless. Nothing worth seeing. I don’t want you to witness it.”

Chu Yang was puzzled—he’d said you, not you all. Still, delivering Ling Yibo here completed most of his task.

He understood what Yibo meant and, for the first time, didn’t strictly follow Ling Feng’s orders. After a brief silence, he nodded slightly. “All right. Go in by yourself then.”

He turned and left, leading the others down the stone steps.

His face was expressionless, his demeanor calm. The sound of shoes against stone blended with the whistling sea wind in silence.

Staring at the spotless white tips of his sneakers, he gently kicked a pebble forward.

The pebble rolled toward the shore, farther and farther, until it stopped beside a soft white paw.

It was deep night, the light dim. Not far away, a faint silver-white silhouette appeared—along with a curled-up cat’s tail, swaying as if waving at him.

Chu Yang’s previously quiet eyes lit up. He called, “Jiali.”

“Here!”

Chen Jiali adjusted his earpiece and tiptoed over. Chu Yang said, “Bring the sausages we bought last time.”

Chen Jiali was a big guy with a big appetite; the standard work meals never filled him, so he often bought instant noodles and snacks at night. Over time, others joined him, crouched together eating late-night bites. The sausages were bought in bulk at the supermarket and stored in his large field backpack.

After feeding the stray kitten, Chu Yang stood and dusted off his trousers. An inexplicable heaviness lingered in his chest—this reunion had shattered all his carefully maintained composure.

He had wondered, after returning from his overseas assignment, whether he might ever be reassigned to guard Ling Yibo again. He never imagined the reunion would come so soon—or so unceremoniously.

Three years ago, in a similarly damp summer, he had just finished the semiannual bodyguard physical at headquarters. The orange-red afterglow of sunset spread across the car’s rearview mirror.

The corporate call came just as Chu Yang’s car stopped at a red light. Upon hearing, “There’s an issue with your physical—come back immediately,” he slammed the brakes, tires screeching sharply against the asphalt.

After hanging up, Chu Yang collapsed forward onto the steering wheel, gasping for breath—

He had never lost composure like this before.

There was only one possible explanation for that call.

Signs had appeared in his body—indicating an imminent differentiation into an Omega.

His differentiation came abnormally late. For years, the company’s medical office had invited top gender-specialists in the capital to examine him; every result came back normal. Clinically, such cases weren’t rare. Doctors even said if he passed the typical differentiation age without manifesting, he could simply be treated as a Beta, with no effect on life—nothing to worry about.

Even so, given his physique and abilities, everyone assumed Chu Yang must be an Alpha.

One day, he was expected to succeed Uncle Sen—the chief bodyguard—and become the second young master’s sharpest blade.

But if he followed nature and lived as an Omega, he could hardly continue this line of work.

For Chu Yang, being a “protector” felt like an innate ability. Adopted by Uncle Sen, he had been sent to a training camp at age nine to study combat, grappling, and defensive tactics. Uncle Sen had loyally served Ling Feng for decades; as his adopted son, Chu Yang naturally seemed destined to protect Ling Yibo.

Ling Feng’s solution was simple and brutal.

He said that if Chu Yang wanted to remain with the company, he could arrange a private course of action—a surgery and three-year treatment assignment in Southeast Asia, guarding Ling Yibo’s elder brother instead.

In short, gland removal.

Return to his previous state and pretend nothing had ever happened.

As for Ling Yibo, there was no need to tell him; better to avoid any earth-shattering commotion.

Ling Feng’s orders were concise and decisive. Chu Yang carried them out without hesitation.

Everything unfolded logically; no one ever taught him how to choose—he simply did whatever minimized disruption.

At that moment, static crackled in his earpiece, followed by Ling Feng’s stern voice: “Chu Yang, get inside!”

Chu Yang answered calmly, “Yes.”

Footnotes

1. “Yang-ge” (漾哥) – A casual, affectionate way of addressing an older male in Chinese. “Ge” means “older brother” but is often used between male friends or subordinates to show respect or camaraderie, not necessarily familial. ↩