SATC C1

Chapter 1: Insulting One’s Superiors

Early summer. The Capital’s Central Sports Arena was packed with an uproarious crowd.

Among the spectators in the inner section, a young man in a plain white short-sleeved shirt and light blue jeans sat quietly. Clean and neat, he looked like a student. His gaze swept across the court as if searching for someone.

He had arrived at noon and had been sitting there for over three hours, his back straight, shoulders aligned, posture virtually unchanged.

At 3 p.m., the game’s first half entered the warm-up phase. Both teams came on court with their cheerleaders to shake hands and bump shoulders. The stands were bursting, cheers roaring, and the referee blew the whistle to officially begin the match.

Chu Yang quickly checked the time on his wristwatch and adjusted his invisible earpiece. “He’s not here.”

“Yes.” The response came firmly from the other end.

Chu Yang fixed his gaze on the court. “Search the locker room again.”

“Yes.” The signal cut off immediately.

Yesterday, the team’s official public account had released the game preview, and that person’s name was indeed on the starting lineup.

As a rising star under the CEO of Changfeng Shipping Group, Chu Yang was known for his precision and reliability. He had never failed at locating a target—especially not when the request came directly from the big boss. If the person had disappeared, that would be a serious issue.

Chu Yang looked up and met several curious gazes.

People had begun to notice him.

Before the college student in front of him could strike up a conversation, Chu Yang took the initiative. “Hello, do you know why Ling Yibo isn’t on the field today?”

Could he have known in advance that someone was coming to “retrieve” him?

Ling Yibo—the second son of Changfeng Shipping’s CEO Ling Feng—rich, reckless, and completely unmanageable. A complete playboy. Chu Yang had dealt with him before. His name had more strokes than average; it was hard to mistake him.

“Ling Yibo?”

The student being questioned flushed deeply and answered uncertainly, “You—you’re here to see him too? I read in the game notification group that he got injured. He’s not playing today…”

Ling Yibo was injured.

Before warm-ups, he had scraped his leg, and his old meniscus injury had flared up again—no intense activity was allowed for 24 hours.

As the preliminary match kicked off, the roars of the crowd shook the stands. The team doctor waited by the sideline with the medical kit, but Ling Yibo—far from the spoiled and arrogant rumors—remained silently in the locker room, clutching an ice pack.

Ling Yibo didn’t think the injury was serious. He figured he could hold out until his teammates finished the game. But aside from himself, three strangers were also in the room.

“Get lost.”

Ling Yibo was in real pain now, and he didn’t even have the strength to look at them.

The tallest of the unfamiliar faces spoke timidly, “Bro, please don’t make this hard for us.”

“Who’s your bro?” The young Alpha’s tone was lazy. “Go back to whoever hired you—Ling Feng is your boss.”

The stranger figured there must’ve been a mistake with the assignment.

He had only been working for CEO Ling Feng for six months and was already expected to assist top-level officer Chu Yang in escorting the second young master? That was hell-level difficulty from the start.

Yet before they left, Ling Feng had explicitly warned them—this second son was strong and defiant. Ordinary bodyguards couldn’t handle him. They needed someone who could dominate him.

Looking at Ling Yibo, the new bodyguard was puzzled.

He couldn’t see how he could possibly dominate this young master.

“Second Young Master—Yibo-ge,” the bodyguard didn’t know how best to address him, “Orders from the top. I’m afraid you really do need to come with us today.”

“You know me, but I don’t know you. Why should I go with you?” Ling Yibo brushed his swollen knee with the back of his hand, not even bothering to lift his head. “Tell your boss I’m not going.”

He had little energy left.

Whether it was from pain or fatigue, his jersey clung to his back with sweat.

The atmosphere in the locker room was humid and stifling. The fluorescent lights were off, and only the dusky orange sunlight outside filtered in.

The light cut through clearly; the heat blazed down on him, and discontent was etched in his expression.

He merely sat and looked up at them.

The new bodyguard was completely silenced by that gaze.

“I will.”

A fifth voice rang through the empty locker room. The bodyguard, who was supposed to keep his eyes on Ling Yibo, turned around in relief, as though he’d been pardoned. He was so excited he forgot Rule Number One of bodyguard etiquette: no emotion, no attachments.

That single word shattered the tension in the air. But for some reason, compared to Chief Chu’s usual voice, this greeting sounded particularly cold and stiff to the bodyguard.

Clearly, it came from the one who embodied Rule Number One the best—he casually closed the locker room door behind him.

Chu Yang’s tone was courteous yet distant. “You recognize me, at least.”

Shock flickered in Ling Yibo’s eyes.

His left hand reflexively clamped down on his right wrist, using the pressure on his bones to suppress the Alpha pheromones that almost surged out in that instant.

Everyone held their breath.

After a pause, Ling Yibo looked away and resumed his flippant tone. “Well, well. What’s the special occasion today? Rolling out such a grand lineup? Even you came—”

He deliberately added, slowly, “—and dressed like that.”

The white shirt highlighted Chu Yang’s pale skin. The light blue jeans fit his long, straight legs. His white sneakers looked brand new.

It was like a pool of crystal-clear water—untainted, forming a transparent lake surface right before Ling Yibo’s eyes.

It was the first time he’d seen Chu Yang dressed like this.

Chu Yang ignored his teasing. His tone remained neutral. “I drove the seven-seater MPV for you. With you included, it’ll be exactly five people.”

When Ling Yibo didn’t respond, Chu Yang added calmly, “President Ling requires you to arrive in Yushui by 9 p.m. We still have time if we leave now.”

The vehicle only looked like it had seven seats.

This young master loved his comforts—it had been modified with a starry roof, folding desk, and even an onboard gaming setup for live sports simulations. A seven-seater turned into a five-seater just like that.

“You personally driving it here for me?” Ling Yibo relaxed slightly. “You must’ve really missed me.”

Chu Yang didn’t respond, clearly refusing to entertain the nonsense.

Ling Yibo wasn’t really focused on the car.

If Chu Yang had come back, that meant the situation was serious.

It had been over 900 days since they last saw each other.

The last time was when Chu Yang was reassigned out of the capital. Ling Yibo hadn’t even come downstairs to see him off—hadn’t even bothered with some sentimental farewell.

All he’d said was: If you’re leaving, then don’t come back.

Chu Yang had paused, then replied, Okay.

He nodded, turned, and left. There wasn’t a trace of sentiment, as if the words had been nothing more than a routine order after three years of working together.

Chu Yang was the well-known golden boy of the shipping group. Selected at a young age for the elite bodyguard program, always ranked first in every assessment. With over ten years of service, his reputation extended even beyond the industry. Though cold by nature, his conduct was flawless—a role model in every sense.

The only “flaw” was that he never differentiated. From the first time he was assigned to Ling Yibo until their working relationship ended and Chu Yang switched employers, he never once revealed whether he was Alpha, Beta, or Omega.

Their first meeting: Chu Yang was nineteen, Ling Yibo was sixteen. Yet the latter had already undergone his presentation and become the family’s only S-class Alpha—a subject of heightened protection.

Chu Yang could feel Ling Yibo’s gaze lingering on him, but made it clear he wouldn’t speak another word. Both sides seemed to be waiting for the other to break first.

“Fine, I’ll go with you. It’s been so long—let’s at least keep it civil, right?” Ling Yibo finally gave in.

His final word had an upward inflection—like bait waiting for a bite.

When Chu Yang’s brows relaxed slightly, Ling Yibo suddenly felt that surrendering wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Chu Yang ignored the jab and simply said, “Please wait a moment.”

He squatted down lightly, and his previously composed features flickered when he saw the state of Ling Yibo’s injury. That patch of skin bore many marks—wounds from the past three years when he hadn’t been around.

He opened his palm, and someone quickly handed him ointment and gauze.

“Your bandaging skills have gotten worse,” Ling Yibo said suddenly.

“Yes. I still need your guidance,” Chu Yang replied, brushing the stray strands of hair from his forehead.

He squatted with ease. From Ling Yibo’s angle, he could see his thick eyebrows, a mole beside the bridge of his nose, and the smooth line from shoulder to spine.

His movements were crisp and efficient. Without raising his head once, Chu Yang applied a thin layer of pale green ointment with a cotton swab, iced the wound, and instructed the others to buy more supplies for treating minor injuries nearby.

The match on the court was in full swing. Their group exited through the back of the locker room without running into anyone familiar.

Before getting in the car, Chu Yang positioned the three bodyguards around the MPV in a protective formation, then went to the trunk, retrieved a soft fleece blanket, shook it out, climbed into the car, and told the driver, “Depart immediately.”

Ling Yibo lay back in the seat with his eyes closed.

Only when the light blanket fell over him did he open his eyes and glance at the upright man beside him.

Even in the car, Chu Yang remained perfectly alert. His posture elegant, eyes scanning the surroundings. He hadn’t changed much—same appearance, same demeanor—as though he’d simply gone away for a while and returned, without even bothering to say long time no see.

Sitting like that without a suit, with a low collar, the base of his neck exposed a faint scar—barely visible unless one looked closely. As if sensing the attention, Chu Yang tugged at his shirt, and the scar was swiftly hidden beneath white cotton.

Ling Yibo always said what came to mind. “What happened to the back of your neck?”

“Unexpected incident in the field two years ago. Got cut.” Chu Yang replied smoothly, as though it wasn’t about him at all.

Taking advantage of Chu Yang’s inattention, Ling Yibo lifted the back of his collar and narrowed his eyes at the jagged scar. “Nasty weapon… a three-edged military dagger?”

Not only was the weapon vicious, but the location of the wound was unusual.

The scar was deep, though it had healed well. The marks clearly formed by a triple-bladed edge—something seen in close-quarter combat with cold weapons, particularly in places like Southeast Asia.

“Mm.”

Chu Yang didn’t dodge, letting Ling Yibo inspect it freely. After a pause, he added, “Thank you for your concern.”

Ling Yibo’s mood instantly plummeted. He abruptly let go, shut his eyes, and went back to sleep.

notes:

• Three-edged military dagger: A type of close-combat weapon with three blades, designed to inflict complex, hard-to-heal wounds. Often associated with military use in Southeast Asia.

• S-class Alpha: Denotes an elite, extremely powerful Alpha in ABO lore, often physically superior and possessing strong pheromones.