Pretending to Be an Alpha in an All-Alpha Boy Band - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 Pink-Haired Alpha

During the lunch break, a post quietly climbed to the top of the company’s internal forum homepage.

[Hot] [Title: He hasn’t been to the company in ages, so are the rumors true?]

— Kept.

— It’s confirmed, folks. A parachuted-in insider with connections: a low-level trainee who gets to live in the advanced trainee dorms with those few “royals” + ignores company rules and often skips clock-in + comes and goes from the manager’s office at will. All the elements are there. Who’d believe YSY doesn’t have someone backing him?

— What do you know upstairs? That’s called being a resource magnet~ Ever notice they don’t dare reveal his pheromone grade? For all we know he’s a C-grade bottom-tier Alpha.

— Alphas can be coerced on the casting couch too?

— What about it if he’s an Alpha? With a face like that, which Alpha wouldn’t be tempted? [photo]

— Strong suspicion he’s also got something going on with those little crown princes.

— Disclaimer: I’m not into A-on-A, but does anyone have a clear close-up shot?

— Am I the only one who thinks his gender’s suspect? Everyone knows Alphas are like dogs marking their turf—they love getting their pheromones everywhere. But I’ve never once smelled YSY’s pheromones, and yet he smells really good…

— I can vouch for it—he really does. I once grabbed his clothes by mistake. God, the scent—almost sent me into susceptibility right there. It’s deadly sweet.

— Strong suspicion YSY is a pretty little O faking it as an A.

“I’m so sick of this! Why does Yuan Shiyuan get special treatment? So what if he’s got connections?!”

“Do they really think people don’t know what deals are going on behind the scenes?”

In Ximi Entertainment’s practice room, the young trainees were all talking at once.

Until the door opened and, backlit, the very person they’d been discussing appeared. The room fell silent in an instant.

Yuan Shiyuan smiled and asked, “What deals?”

The Alphas’ expressions shifted; none of them were sure how much Yuan Shiyuan had heard, and no one spoke up.

After a long moment, someone ventured, “Shiyuan, how come you suddenly showed up at the company? Did you just get here?”

“Not long,” Yuan Shiyuan leaned against the doorframe, sounding as casual as if chatting about the weather. “It’s just, I thought I heard you bad-mouthing me. Did I mishear?”

The air froze.

“But I must have misheard. We’re all Alphas with higher education—who would stoop to gossiping behind someone’s back like that, with zero moral fiber.”

Yuan Shiyuan let out a soft laugh and glanced toward the little red light glowing in the ceiling corner. “Besides, if you’re going to wag your tongues, at least pick a spot without surveillance. Talking trash where there are cameras everywhere is just dumb, don’t you think?”

The Alphas flushed, green and red by turns, cold sweat beading at their temples.

More than shame or fury, something else complicated their feelings—after just a short time away, Yuan Shiyuan seemed even more beautiful.

Yuan Shiyuan had been gone for nearly a month.

No one knew where he’d gone, but the talk never stopped. On the company’s private forum, threads about him refreshed daily; the candid shots in those posts had been saved and forwarded so many times they were distorted and blurry.

Yet the Yuan Shiyuan standing here was far more stunning than any photo.

Coming in from outside, he carried that unique midsummer vitality. His snow-white skin was tinged a delicate pink from the sun, pink hair soft against his ears, and when he smiled, a scatter of light flickered in his eyes like bubbles spilling from the mouth of a soda bottle—crisp and clean.

“Yuan Shiyuan!”

In the dead silence, a silver-haired Alpha strode into the practice room and grabbed Yuan Shiyuan’s wrist. “Where have you been all this time? Why didn’t you answer my messages…”

Trainees at Ximi Entertainment came in three types: S-grade preselected trainees; Class A standouts; and, most numerous but with the fewest debut slots, the ordinary trainees like Yuan Shiyuan.

From the way he was dressed, the silver-haired Alpha in front of them was clearly the first type.

The Alphas in the practice room even wondered if they were seeing things. Wasn’t that Ximi Entertainment’s little crown prince, Nan Liujing? What was he doing here?

Yuan Shiyuan ignored Nan Liujing completely—right up until, under everyone’s stare, his arm was seized, his back shoved to the wall, and he was pinned in the corner.

Without a flicker of emotion, he drew his hand back. His fingertips pressed lightly against Nan Liujing’s wrist bone, nudging him away. “And what’s this got to do with you? We’re not that close.”

Compared to the silver-haired Alpha’s urgency, his tone could only be called cool. “And don’t stand so close to me. We’re both Alphas—it’s gross.”

The Alpha’s expression froze in place, and the surveillance footage paused.

The man in front of the computer screen glanced at the young Alpha slouched casually in his chair and gave an inscrutable laugh.

“You really do draw Alphas like moths to a flame.”

But Yuan Shiyuan asked, “When are you paying me last month’s part-time wages?”

Yes—Yuan Shiyuan wasn’t a formally signed trainee at Ximi Entertainment. He was a part-time hire. Almost no one knew that.

At Ximi Entertainment’s trainee debut event, one trainee couldn’t make it due to an accident. Chen Yan happened to run into Yuan Shiyuan and had him fill in at the last minute.

No one expected Yuan Shiyuan to be that good-looking; even with few camera shots, he attracted a wave of face fans. The higher-ups changed their minds and decided to work with him long-term.

Once they learned he was still a university student, they paid him at a part-time rate, with a bonus for perfect attendance. If the company needed him to film, that was extra.

But Yuan Shiyuan was still in school, so full attendance was out of the question.

“It’s not much money. No rush,” Chen Yan said, skimming through Yuan Shiyuan’s punch-in records. “Why were you absent so many days last month?”

“Final exams,” Yuan Shiyuan replied without looking up. “I submitted leave.”

“Still a good student, huh.”

Chen Yan leaned back and let his gaze roam over Yuan Shiyuan’s face. The office window wasn’t quite shut; the air was a touch stifling. Yuan Shiyuan was so fair that a flush spread from his cheeks down his neck, disappearing into his collar.

“I specially arranged for you to stay in the advanced trainees’ dorm. You’ve met plenty of people there, right? Some seniors, too…” He went on, “Don’t you want to become someone like that?”

“To live dazzlingly under the spotlight, lifted to the clouds by fans…”

Yuan Shiyuan looked over at Chen Yan.

Chen Yan’s breathing suddenly quickened.

Yuan Shiyuan was idly turning a Rubik’s Cube. The cuffs of his white hoodie were pushed to his elbows; the lines of his long fingers and wrist bones were clean and sharp. When he smiled he was vivid; when he was expressionless, there was a cool edge to him—a taut, youthful bite.

Chen Yan couldn’t help thinking that with an Alpha who looked like this, he couldn’t be blamed for letting his thoughts stray.

He moved to stand beside Yuan Shiyuan. “Shiyuan, I’ll be blunt. The main Alphas our company is pushing are Nan Liujing and his circle. But your popularity’s too high, so the company had no choice but to take a series of measures to keep you from blowing up…”

Whether it was unflattering makeup or malicious edits, the goal was to limit Yuan Shiyuan’s exposure and keep him from going viral. And the rumors online about him being one of the “royals” were meant to shield Ximi Entertainment’s real little crown prince.

“If you want to turn things around, fans’ love alone won’t cut it,” Chen Yan said, standing at his side. “An Alpha investor reached out to me a couple days ago. He’s very interested in you.”

The Rubik’s Cube clicked into place.

Yuan Shiyuan blinked, then his expression turned peculiar. “I’m an Alpha.”

“So what if you’re both Alphas? I can teach you—” As he spoke, Chen Yan reached to put a hand on Yuan Shiyuan’s shoulder, only for Yuan Shiyuan to slap it away, hard.

Chen Yan’s demeanor went cold in an instant. “He’s doing you a favor by even looking at you. Don’t mistake courtesy for an invitation.”

People who put on that holier-than-thou act, Chen Yan had seen plenty. No matter how pure they pretended to be, it always came down to money and resources not being in place.

“Spend one night with Director Zhou, and he’ll line up a role for you—plus two hundred thousand,” he said. “Just one night.”

The office suddenly went very quiet.

Chen Yan could tell Yuan Shiyuan was wavering. No one could resist a shortcut like that.

He knew Yuan Shiyuan’s family situation wasn’t good, and that he’d been juggling all kinds of part-time jobs. College kids who haven’t really been out in society yet and are strapped for cash are the easiest to handle.

“And last month’s wages—do you want them or not?”

Chen Yan set his hand on Yuan Shiyuan’s shoulder again. When he saw Yuan Shiyuan didn’t dodge, he finally smiled, satisfied. “See? Wouldn’t it have been easier to do this from the start? You’re an Alpha—you won’t lose anything. Just grit your teeth and get through it…”

Before he could finish, Yuan Shiyuan took the initiative to wrap a hand around his wrist, then lifted the corners of his mouth in a smile. In an instant, Chen Yan felt dizzy and short of breath; he couldn’t help lowering his head, leaning in—only to meet a fist coming straight at his face!

The punch was precise and unhesitating, completely out of the blue. Chen Yan was flipped to the floor on the spot; his back slammed hard into a cabinet. The crack of bone and the clatter of trophies shattering scattered across the room.

“Yuan Shiyuan?!”

The sudden turn of events left Chen Yan utterly stunned. Maybe even he hadn’t expected the youth who looked as delicate as an Omega to have that much strength. He tried to push off the floor to get up, and a bolt of agony shot through his shoulder; his knee buckled and he dropped to the ground.

The hand on his shoulder was slender and pale, yet it carried unimaginable force, leaving an A-rank Alpha like him unable to move!

Fear slowly crept into Chen Yan’s eyes. He looked up—and a powerful grip seized the back of his collar, hauling him up from the floor!

“Say that again?” Yuan Shiyuan’s voice was lazy, and he even gave a polite smile. “I didn’t catch it.”

“Still want to sleep with me, huh?”

A high-level Alpha’s pheromones rolled over him like a wave. The color drained from Chen Yan’s face. The terrifying, overwhelming pheromone suppression made his limbs tremble; he nearly dropped to his knees.

He shook his head in panic.

“Looks like you’re fully awake now.” Yuan Shiyuan tossed a phone in front of him. “Kindly settle my wages.”

“They’ll be in—immediately, immediately!”

Chen Yan’s hands shook as he unlocked his phone. Only when the chime of a successful transfer sounded did Yuan Shiyuan let go and walk away.

Chen Yan scrambled up at once. Watching Yuan Shiyuan’s back recede, he snapped peevishly, “Are you crazy, Yuan Shiyuan? Do you still want a career or not…”

“Old man, I’ve tolerated you long enough.”

Yuan Shiyuan stopped. The Alpha’s aggression hadn’t fully ebbed. He tilted his head toward the middle-aged Alpha curled warily in the corner. When Chen Yan saw him coming, he reflexively shrank back.

The blazing midsummer sun hummed with cicadas, turning Yuan Shiyuan’s skin almost translucent; a thin wash of gilt pooled in his eyes and threaded through his pale pink hair.

He laughed very softly, though there was little emotion in his gaze.

“I’m done being your daddy.”

…

“Done or not, you’ll do it!”

Starry Night Entertainment, Agents’ Office.

“Scepter is about to welcome a new member. This is the teammate you’ll be fighting alongside in the future, so the choice must be meticulous.”

“Picking a teammate is like picking a spouse—you can’t be careless!”

Under Starry Night Entertainment, the Scepter boy group’s five members are all S-rank Alphas, including celebrity offspring and rich second generation. The main members are—

The aloof, ascetic iceberg captain, Pei Yanbing, the group’s all-around ACE;

The rebellious artist and mixed-race main dancer, Bo Jin, the stage-impact ace with top overseas popularity;

The sharp-tongued, brooding cool-guy main vocal, Jiang Heng, known for composing OSTs;

And then there was a pair of twins with polar opposite personalities: the gentle gentleman Ying Mingxi, and the lively, enthusiastic puppy-dog Ying Mingche.

“Quit zoning out! Look at the files!”

A pair of long legs stretched out from the sofa. The mixed-race Alpha with sharply cut features had a few strands of red dyed at his temples. He picked up a dossier perfunctorily, then tossed it aside in disgust.

“Wow, wow,” the mixed-race Alpha said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Why do these Alphas rub me the wrong way so much?”

On a single armchair by the window, the cold-faced cool guy sat with arms folded, eyes closed, resting. “If you can’t stand it, get out,” he said. (Spoken by Jiang Heng)

Seeing a fight about to break out, Zhuang He hurried to cut in: “Stop. I called you back this time to talk about the new member. Let’s pick seriously, okay?”

“Jiang Heng, no fighting. Bo Jin, simmer down.”

Bo Jin lounged on the sofa with his long legs propped up, still wearing that fake smile. “Sure thing.”

Having successfully averted a blow-up, Zhuang He exhaled in relief. He looked toward Pei Yanbing—Scepter’s captain—who had been silently skimming the list like an outsider.

The three S-rank Alphas occupied separate corners of the office in a rough triangle, and even after a year working together, they still didn’t seem familiar with one another.

Zhuang He was used to their way of getting along.

Scepter differentiated itself with a lineup of S-rank Alphas, but Alphas have a fierce sense of territory. Putting five top Alphas in a boy group is no different from locking a few tigers in one pen.

As the saying goes, “One mountain can’t hold two tigers.” They couldn’t stand each other, and rumors of internal discord were constant.

The team truly had zero cohesion.

Zhuang He sighed. “How’s it looking? A few trainees have decent conditions, and a few are from other companies… If you all think they fit, we should strike first.”

Jiang Heng: “What type do we want for the new member?”

“You’re all aggressively dominant top-tier Alphas. The new member needs some differentiation. Ideally, he’d be as pretty as an Omega.”

Half the list was eliminated.

“Best if he already comes with heat, traffic, and a fan base.”

“And of course, a better temper.”

“…”

Bo Jin lamented, “No such Alpha exists in this world.”

“This one has scandals.” “Not this one either…”

In under a minute, Bo Jin had axed every candidate. He rose lazily to his feet. “None of them do it for me. I’m heading out. I’ll leave the arranged marriage to you, Brother Zhuang.”

Jiang Heng pulled his black cap down and left as well. “Do whatever you want.”

Their couldn’t-care-less attitude made it feel like they wouldn’t bat an eye if Scepter disbanded the next second.

Zhuang He looked to his only hope. “Captain, what do you think?”

Pei Yanbing finished the last file. “None of them are any good.” 95二一陸灵㈡8叁

Zhuang He pressed a helpless hand to his forehead.

But Pei Yanbing wasn’t wrong.

The list the company compiled did meet S-rank standards—but only just. Even if they forced one in, it would likely do nothing to change Scepter’s current predicament.

Scepter is a boy group made entirely of S-rank Alphas. The company set out to form an aggressively dominant group, but it turned out fans aren’t into that now. S-rank Alphas are S-rank, after all—they can’t tone down their aggression and edge. Put them on stage and it’s like five swaggering dads lording it over the place. As get jealous; Os are turned off.

Posturing Alphas are out of fashion.

After multiple discussions, the company decided to recruit a new member. One, to bring audiences something fresh. Two, to generate new buzz and talking points. Three—ideally, the newcomer would be a good-tempered Alpha who could pair up with the existing members for fanservice CPs and, in the process, act as the team’s glue to build some actual cohesion.

But how could it be that simple?

Picking a new member was harder than building a boy group from scratch. Beyond role and image, they also had to weigh fan acceptance and the market. And getting S-rank Alphas to do fanservice?

Alphas are born with intense territorial and competitive instincts. They’re domineering and proud; their own kind repels them, their energies naturally clash.

Let alone S-rank Alphas at the top of the food chain.

Getting S-rank Alphas to willingly play up homoerotic fanservice? Only if the person in question were their wife.

And S-rank Alphas are rare to begin with—where were they supposed to find so many for the picking…

Just as Zhuang He was at his wit’s end, the door thumped with a knock, and a delighted voice sounded outside: “Brother Zhuang! Good news!”

Two betas burst into the office, barely able to contain themselves.

“The company has urgently put together a new list—freshly sourced S-rank Alphas!”