Pretending to Be an Alpha in an All-Alpha Boy Band - Chapter 35
chapter 35 Surge
First place!
Yuan Shiyuan had never expected his first appearance to achieve such astonishing results.
He was ecstatic and, without thinking, grabbed the nearest Pei Yanbing and hugged him tightly.
“Our sales broke the record!”
Moonlight scattered into glittering ripples across the sea, reflecting Yuan Shiyuan’s face. Pei Yanbing froze, the hand holding his bow tightening and then relaxing.
Just as he was about to return the hug with one arm, Yuan Shiyuan slipped from his embrace.
Pei Yanbing: “……”
The other Alphas silently closed in. Ying Mingche was the first to protest: “Why are you only hugging the captain? Since we’re a team, you can’t play favorites.”
Jiang Heng and Bo Jin stared straight at Yuan Shiyuan, while Ying Mingxi’s expression was gentle. They didn’t speak, but their looks seemed to back up Ying Mingche’s words.
“You’re right— we’re a team. The magazine sales exceeded expectations; we should celebrate properly.”
“Come on, hug everyone!”
Yuan Shiyuan smiled and opened his arms, spreading the affection evenly as he let each Alpha take a turn holding him.
After the last hug, Bo Jin suddenly grabbed his wrist, pressed a hand to his shoulder, and pushed him into a nearby seat.
“Have you studied piano before?” he asked. “I don’t recall you saying so.”
The other Alphas sat down as well. Ying Mingxi handed Yuan Shiyuan a tissue to wipe his sweat; Ying Mingche passed him a cup of water…
Pei Yanbing set the violin aside and sat directly opposite, his gaze never leaving Yuan Shiyuan’s face.
“I have,” Yuan Shiyuan said.
He roughly wiped the sweat from his neck and casually pushed his pink fringe back. Tilting his head, he teased Bo Jin with a slight smile, “There are lots of things I can do.”
“You’ll see sooner or later.”
He sounded a little proud.
“That level must come from starting very young, right?” Ying Mingche clicked his tongue. “I took lessons as a kid too, but I couldn’t compare to you.”
“Yeah, I took various interest classes off and on when I was little,” Yuan Shiyuan said, “but it was just a hobby—no formal graded exams or competitions.”
“Even as a hobby…” Ying Mingche struggled for a moment, then gave a thumbs-up, “Alright, geniuses are impressive. You and the captain must have a lot in common.”
Pei Yanbing came from a musical family and had been steeped in music since childhood—hailed as a child prodigy. Comparing them would almost be praising him to death.
Yuan Shiyuan waved his hand, “It’s not that extreme.”
“No need to be modest.” Pei Yanbing looked at him. “Your fundamentals are solid, and your playing has a distinct personal style. That piece you just played, ‘Night Falls,’ was wonderful…”
He paused, “You also like Master Yu’s works?”
Master Yu is a piano grandmaster, a renowned pianist.
Pei Yanbing had been fortunate enough to receive instruction from him.
Everyone called Pei Yanbing a genius, but under the exacting standards of Master Yu, the critique had been only “technique is abundant but emotion is lacking.”
“True music moves your soul and makes you resonate with it.” That remark from Master Yu had stayed with Pei Yanbing for many years.
The first time Pei Yanbing heard Yuan Shiyuan play, his usually composed heart felt like a disrupted musical rhythm, thrown off balance and uncontrollable.
That long-dormant heartstring seemed to surge awake.
“Of course I know him— he’s very famous,” Yuan Shiyuan thought for a moment and said, “but he hasn’t released anything new in a long time.”
“Yes.” Pei Yanbing said, “Not just him—his proudest daughter hasn’t released new work for years either. Ever since his little grandson was kidnapped, their family has been searching tirelessly all these years and has never given up.”
“Their family’s musical career has also been quiet for a long time.”
That was another regret many people felt.
“Th-that…”
Yuan Shiyuan bit his juice straw, keeping his head down, and slowly turned his face.
The slight, slender Omega approached timidly, clutching a Polaroid and a marker.
His voice was very soft: “Shiyuan-ge, could I get your autograph?”
“Of course.”
Yuan Shiyuan stood up to take the Polaroid, his long fingers closing around the marker as he left a neat, elegant signature.
“Are you here on vacation?” he lowered his voice, trying to ease the other’s nervousness.
“Yeah! With my mom and dad.” The Omega gripped his phone, his fingers curling anxiously. “We knew we’d be filming a variety show before boarding. But we didn’t expect to run into you…”
“Then I’m even luckier to meet you.” Yuan Shiyuan finished signing and handed the Polaroid back with both hands, his eyes forming a soft curve. “Want to take a photo together?”
“Ca-can we?”
“Of course.”
Yuan Shiyuan was half a head taller, so he consideratey half-squatted—an action that made his waist tense. He kept adjusting the composition, “Is this angle okay?”
“Yes!”
The Omega immediately looked up; he was so nervous he didn’t know what pose to strike and awkwardly held up two fingers.
Seeing that, Yuan Shiyuan flashed the same peace sign, tilted his head, and smiled at the camera.
He kept taking shots, slightly changing angles in between. If you took enough photos, at least one would turn out right.
“Thanks, Shiyuan-ge! I won’t bother you anymore.” The Omega’s face glowed with excited color as he walked away, then mustered the courage to call out, “Baby, you’re really beautiful!”
Yuan Shiyuan’s smile froze.
“Brother, I love you!”
Before Yuan Shiyuan could react, the Omega had already run off, leaving him standing there dazed.
Yuan Shiyuan mechanically sat back down, a thin blush rising from his ear tips to his neck as if visible to the naked eye. His fingers curled and uncurled without thought; his knees were tightly together.
Who calls him “baby” like that…
He laughed off fans’ teasing online, but being addressed so affectionately by a stranger of the opposite sex in real life was a first.
His fingertips were burning; this slightly embarrassed, inexperienced look had been laid bare for the surrounding Alphas to see.
The Alphas’ gazes suddenly deepened.
They had forgotten that Yuan Shiyuan was an inexperienced young Omega who’d never been in a relationship.
“Heh.” Ying Mingche’s tone was hollow, “Happy, are you? Yuan-yuan baby.”
“…”
Yuan Shiyuan snapped back to attention at once. “Thank you, that calms me down.”
Ying Mingche said coldly, “You know we can’t date, right? O is not okay, B isn’t either.”
Yuan Shiyuan’s ear tips were still flushed as he explained, “I know, I have no intention of dating. It’s just—being called ‘baby’ suddenly… feels a little strange.”
Just being called “baby” warrants such a reaction?
“Is that so, Shiyuan.”
Ying Mingxi gave a light laugh. “Then you should get used to it sooner. There will be a lot of people calling you that in the future…”
“I’ll get used to it slowly.”
Yuan Shiyuan’s obedient nod made Jiang Heng’s pen pause. Ink bled across the paper, catching Yuan Shiyuan’s attention.
“Are you writing music?”
“Mm.” Jiang Heng said, “Songs for the new album.”
Ying Mingche: “Right, we have nothing to do now, so we can write the new album’s songs. We were waiting for you to join before finalizing anything.”
“Now that you’re here, we can get back to work.”
Pei Yanbing went to talk with the staff, and by the time he returned with the equipment, they’d already adjusted the surrounding setup. A cameraman stood off at a distance with his camera on his shoulder; the nearby microphones had been removed.
Yuan Shiyuan peered around curious: “Did they take down the hidden cameras around us? So they can’t film us here?”
“The distant ones are still there.” Pei Yanbing scanned the area. “If they shoot from far away, the camera won’t capture our score; they also removed the mics to prevent the music from leaking early.”
The production team was willing to make such a big sacrifice to accommodate them.
Yuan Shiyuan couldn’t find any obvious cameras at all. He suddenly leaned closer and asked, curious, “Captain, how can you spot a camera at a glance?”
Pei Yanbing’s breath caught. He lowered his eyes to the small patch of collarbone visible at the other’s neck, then shifted his gaze and said, “You get used to it.”
“Hm?” What did he mean?
“I used to be afraid of cameras.” Pei Yanbing let his eyelids fall. “Later I wasn’t anymore.”
“That’s impressive—you were able to overcome your weakness. I’m the opposite.” Yuan Shiyuan’s eyes showed admiration and envy. “I used not to be afraid of the dark, and then I became scared.”
“You’re still afraid now?”
Yuan Shiyuan afraid of the dark?
Pei Yanbing suddenly remembered that there was always a lamp on by Yuan Shiyuan’s bedside, and under the lampshade a stuffed toy sat with a blanket over it.
He’d assumed Yuan Shiyuan was clingy and afraid to be in new places, but he hadn’t expected that Yuan Shiyuan was afraid of the dark.
As Pei Yanbing was about to say something, Ying Mingche’s voice came from the side: “What are you two talking about?”
Ying Mingche turned and stuffed a headphone into Yuan Shiyuan’s ear. He chewed on a pencil. “Listen to this—it’s the demo we half-finished earlier.”
“Won’t the intro be not catchy enough?” Yuan Shiyuan thought for a moment and said.
Bo Jin: “True, it doesn’t have a memorable hook. Jiang Heng changed it a bit, but this version is really high and hard to sing.”
Jiang Heng: “We all tried it—it’s indeed hard. We’re worried the live performance would be unstable.”
“This version is much better; it has stronger rhythm and is more gripping,” Yuan Shiyuan added. “Actually, you could simplify it. If you’re worried about an unstable live performance, downgrading it a bit as a compromise might not be so bad.”
Ying Mingche: “You’re right, but it’s really high. I practiced a long time before I could hit it. After singing it several times, my vocal cords were hoarse the next day.”
He suddenly poked Yuan Shiyuan’s face with the headphone. “Why don’t you try? I haven’t heard you sing live yet.”
More accurately, he meant hearing Yuan Shiyuan sing in person.
Yuan Shiyuan swatted Ying Mingche’s hand away. “Wait a minute. I’ll listen a few more times to get used to it.”
Yuan Shiyuan listened three times, then, with the other Alphas watching, he effortlessly sang the stretch of high notes that had been tormenting them.
Ying Mingche took the headphones off.
“This part is hard to sing? I made my voice hoarse before I could reach it,” Ying Mingche said.
He persistently asked, “You really don’t think it’s difficult?”
Yuan Shiyuan answered honestly, “Actually, it’s okay.”
He’d sung even higher notes before.
“And your voice is just so nice…” Ying Mingche murmured. “It sounds familiar.”
He surfed the internet often and fast. He kept feeling he’d heard that timbre somewhere because it was so distinctive.
Yuan Shiyuan’s speaking voice was pleasant, but his singing voice was different: clear, bright, and memorable.
“Then we don’t need to change this part,” Jiang Heng said. “If you can sing it, I can too. We’ll balance it out when we arrange it.”
Yuan Shiyuan joined the composition discussion, but before long his mouth felt dry. Dizzy, he grabbed a coffee and took a big gulp, immediately grimacing as the bitterness made his tongue stick out and his face scrunch up.
“Shiyuan, you took the wrong one.”
Ying Mingxi couldn’t help but smile. “This cup is mine.”
“I’m sorry, Mingxi-ge…”
Yuan Shiyuan’s words were slurred; it was like he’d swallowed a mouthful of iced herbal medicine, the bitterness numbing the back of his tongue.
He meekly pushed the coffee aside, and after his tongue recovered he said, “I’ll buy you another one…”
“No need.”
Ying Mingxi took the cup back. His fingertip paused for a long moment when it touched the damp rim. He gave a gentle smile. “It’s a waste otherwise.”
But this was the coffee he’d drunk…
Then again, Ying Mingxi had also sipped this iced Americano, so it was as if they’d both drunk each other’s coffee. That way, they canceled each other out?
And as Ying Mingxi said, wasting it would be shameful.
Bo Jin watched the two of them, then poured Yuan Shiyuan a glass of juice. “Dilute the taste—it’s not as bitter.”
While Yuan Shiyuan buried his head in the juice, he didn’t notice that Ying Mingxi, who had been intently listening to the demo, suddenly picked up that iced Americano.
There was a damp patch on the rim, the trace Yuan Shiyuan had left.
Ying Mingxi could even sense the pheromone on the cup’s edge, giving off a faint fragrance.
The scent seemed to have a powerful pull on him, forcing him to move closer and closer. The moment his thin lips touched the rim, the sweet aroma poured down his throat and into his chest.
Ying Mingxi’s pupils suddenly dilated; the fingers holding the glass tightened.
On the other side, Ying Mingche snapped the pencil in his hand. He breathed hard and looked at Ying Mingxi in disbelief.
“Bro?!”
Yuan Shiyuan looked over at their commotion and asked in surprise, “What’s wrong?”
Ying Mingche said nothing. He stared at Ying Mingxi, puzzled and almost savoring something. Ying Mingxi himself looked dazed; his Adam’s apple rolled and after a moment he said, “I’m going to the restroom.”
Ying Mingche immediately followed.
Inside the restroom.
Ying Mingche wore an incredulous expression. “What exactly were you thinking just now? How could you—”
“I just touched the coffee Shiyuan drank.” Ying Mingxi closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his voice tight. “It was… delicious.”
“Huh?” Ying Mingche couldn’t believe it. “You had such a reaction just from drinking a cup he drank from? That can’t be.”
As soon as he said it, Ying Mingche fell silent.
That momentary shiver, the lingering taste between lip and teeth—indeed, as his brother said… it was very delicious.
Ying Mingxi washed his face, hands braced on the sink, cold water droplets running down his jawline. In the mirror his hair and clothes were disheveled—where was his usual composed look?
“Maybe I’m really crazy,” he muttered absurdly.
Ying Mingxi actually believed that the faint wet mark on the rim carried a magic that could make him addicted, fascinated, willing to drown in it. And all of it came from Yuan Shiyuan.
How could that be?
He splashed water on his face a few more times.
The faucet’s rushing water couldn’t wash away the S-rank pheromones buzzing and drifting in the air.
When Ying Mingxi returned to the deck, he was back to that flawless demeanor, as if his earlier lapse had never happened.
The S-rank Alphas sitting around were each absorbed in their own tasks. Some wrote scores, some plucked guitars nearby, others exchanged ideas…
The cruise ship headed into the pitch-black distance, but under the moonlight the deck was bright as day. Their harmonious picture—each performing their role—actually made them seem somewhat cohesive.
……
It was ten o’clock at night. Yuan Shiyuan was so sleepy his eyelids kept fighting each other, while the other members were still bright-eyed, diligently writing scores.
He couldn’t stay up any longer and yawned as he stood, “I’m going back to sleep first.”
Bo Jin got up with him. “Together.”
They chatted idly along the way.
“I thought you guys never needed to sleep.”
Yuan yawned again. “Mingxi really is something—he can drink that bitter iced Americano… how is that different from taking Chinese medicine?”
When Yuan had worked part-time at a café, he had tried almost every coffee except iced Americano. He’d tasted one sip before he dared not take a second. At the time his coworker had laughed, taken the cup, and finished the rest for him.
“Why do you always bring him up?” Bo Jin cut in coldly.
“What, I always bring up Mingxi?”
“Not only bring him up, you call him so affectionately.”
“…??”
Yuan looked puzzled. “Isn’t he the oldest in the group? Calling him ‘ge’ (brother) is polite, right?”
Bo Jin: “Oh? You never called me that.”
Yuan suddenly stopped, leaned against the railing, tilted his head back, smiling with curved eyes: “Bo Jin-ge.”
“Bo Jin-geee.” He dragged out the last syllable.
“Happy now?”
“……”
Bo Jin’s expression shifted, becoming somewhat awkward. He yanked Yuan away from the railing, “Don’t stand so close to the edge—you’ll fall.”
Yuan clung to the hem of his jacket, refusing to let go. “You still haven’t answered. Is it okay if I call you that?”
Brother.
That intimate, singular form of address sent a secret, guilty pleasure bubbling up in Bo Jin’s chest. Having a little brother like Yuan Shiyuan didn’t seem so bad.
Bo Jin felt a small, private thrill. He kept his face stern and grunted, “Call me that from now on.”
He hadn’t expected Bo Jin to go along with the industry’s senior–junior culture. But it didn’t matter—Yuan was the youngest, so calling them “brother” was reasonable; Bo Jin’s request wasn’t excessive.
“Why are you going back so early? Is your susceptible period coming again?” Yuan asked curiously. He had assumed Bo Jin would stay late like the others to work on drafts.
“You seem like you haven’t had a susceptible period in a long time, right?”
Bo Jin said lightly, “I’ve been taking suppressants and sexual inhibitors.”
His suppressant was specialized, containing unique ingredients. If a sudden engagement or other arrangement came up, to avoid losing control he would increase the dose in advance to stabilize himself.
That did work, but the unknown side effects could intensify. One day, when his body could no longer handle the high concentration, unexpected aftereffects might erupt.
“But recently I haven’t been…losing control like before.”
At least Bo Jin could hold his pheromones in check and wouldn’t recklessly lash out at others.
Yuan bumped Bo Jin’s shoulder with his fist, delighted: “That’s great—it means you’re improving. Maybe one day you’ll be cured and won’t have to endure this anymore.”
Bo Jin stared at the hand that had pulled away, his fingers long and knuckled. He said, “I’ll take your blessing.”
The production team had lifted restrictions on restroom use, so Yuan could use it freely. After spending the whole night on deck he’d worked up a sweat and took a quick hot shower.
Then he picked up his little plush doll, set it on the bedside table, crawled under the covers, and carefully tucked the doll in with a towel.
Bo Jin stayed on the sofa, watching him.
“Aren’t you going to sleep?”
“I’ll sleep in a bit,” Bo Jin said. “I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”
Just as Yuan Shiyuan was about to speak, Bo Jin interrupted, “You rest at home.”
Big-A chauvinism again.
The lampshade’s halo of light fell across Yuan Shiyuan’s face. He was wrapped in the blanket, his pale fingers pinching the edge, curiously looking toward the single sofa where the Alpha sat.
“Why don’t you want me to work?”
He really was curious. Other Alphas might keep him from working, but none had been as forceful as Bo Jin. He said, “Haven’t you forgotten—I’m an Alpha too?”
“I’ve met a lot of Alphas before,” Bo Jin said. “They thought I didn’t seem like an A, much less S-rank, because I’m different from other S-ranks. But I always make them face reality in the end.” Yuan asked, “Do you think the same? That I’m not an Alpha?”
“It has nothing to do with gender.”
Bo Jin suddenly rose; his tall shadow fell over him. He sat on the edge of the bed and said, “I feel… I should protect you.”
Bo Jin couldn’t easily put his feelings into words, but he simply didn’t want Yuan Shiyuan to work. More precisely, he didn’t want Yuan to be struggling so hard while Bo Jin was around.
If Bo Jin was here and Yuan still handled everything on his own like before, then what was Bo Jin for?
Yuan blinked in disbelief. “Protect me?”
They were close enough that Bo Jin could clearly see Yuan’s curious, tranquil face.
In cotton pajamas, Yuan lay on the bed, wrapped in the blanket, looking up at him. The warm light fell across his brows and eyes, and his pink hair looked especially soft.
How strange—he used to hate pink the most.
“Aren’t friends supposed to do that?” Bo Jin reached out and brushed the pink hair off Yuan’s forehead, revealing his full brow and eyes. “Since we’re friends, I want to protect my friend. Is there a problem with that?”
Yuan suddenly understood. “No problem.”
That made it clearer.
He and Bo Jin were similar—both the kind to be very good to their friends. Sometimes he would feel reluctant to buy something for himself, yet giving it to a friend never seemed lavish enough.
Because he believed his friends deserved the best things in the world.
“All right, then please protect me from now on.” Yuan smiled as he burrowed back under the covers; his voice was muffled from sleepiness. “I’ll be counting on you… Brother Bo Jin.”
The words were soft, but Bo Jin’s fingers suddenly trembled.
Yuan felt the warmth of the big palm on his forehead. Unlike Pei Yanbing, Bo Jin’s body heat was always hot; it felt comforting and made him drowsy.
Bo Jin suddenly asked, “Is your susceptible period coming soon?”
“Uh…huh?” Yuan mumbled sleepily. “I don’t think so—there was one not long ago…”
Even if his susceptible period did come, it was always mild; it wouldn’t spiral out of control like Bo Jin’s.
Bo Jin frowned, his hand moving down from Yuan’s forehead, stroking over the reddening corners of his eyes, finally resting against the slightly flushed cheek.
By then, Yuan had already fallen into a deep, unguarded sleep. His lips parted slightly as his face was cupped, revealing a hint of white tooth.
Bo Jin’s fingers suddenly felt hot.
He withdrew his hand abruptly, his brow tightening.
Yuan’s body temperature was clearly off.
It looked very much like the feverish signs that appear before a susceptible period.
But Bo Jin didn’t have an ordinary suppressant on hand.
He asked the staff for one and gently set it beside the little plush doll. If something happened in the middle of the night, Yuan could reach for it.
In the soft halo of the night lamp, Bo Jin stared at Yuan’s peaceful sleeping face. He suddenly remembered the day Yuan first arrived at the dorm: his luggage had been packed with a jumble of things—little plush dolls, a pillow, a small lamp… like a child running away from home.
Yuan Shiyuan was indeed still very young.
But even at such a young age, he already had a wealth of work experience; compared to the other S-ranks, he really was too fragile.
Bo Jin always felt it shouldn’t be like this.
He unconsciously stroked that stray lock of pink hair.
Why?
Have you endured a lot of hardship?
But you’re only this young—you should still be going to school.
Thinking this, Bo Jin smoothed the ends of Yuan Shiyuan’s hair, tucking the pink strands behind his ear.
Maybe the light was a bit harsh; Yuan Shiyuan’s brow pinched slightly, and he lifted a hand as if to cover his eyes.
Bo Jin immediately caught his wrist, his broad palm replacing that delicate white hand and gently covering his brows and eyes. He first turned off the main lamp, then adjusted the small lamp’s brightness little by little until the light was soft and no longer glaring, and only then did he slowly remove his hand.
He didn’t turn off all the lights.
Perhaps that was the advantage of being a roommate—he could guess from Yuan Shiyuan’s behavior in the dorm that Yuan was afraid of the dark.
Even though Yuan had never brought it up himself.
About an hour later, the other members returned to the suite one after another.
Pei Yanbing froze as he pushed open the door; a strong wave of pheromones rushed at him. He stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on the large bed in the center of the room.
The other Alphas were already at Yuan Shiyuan’s side.
“He…” Jiang Heng began, then stopped.
Bo Jin lowered his voice. “Maybe his susceptible period is coming. When I touched him just now he was very hot.”
Ying Mingche frowned. “Why were you touching him in the first place?”
“Quiet.” Pei Yanbing cut in. “He’s sleeping.”
“So, please don’t fight.” Ying Mingxi took the cue, his gentle voice edged with firmness. “And don’t do anything that might wake Shiyuan.”
The Alphas exchanged a look full of combustible tension.
In the end, when they looked at the sleeping figure on the bed, they all backed off in unison.
Late at night.
A very soft whimper broke the silence.
Yuan Shiyuan wasn’t sleeping peacefully; he tossed and turned in his sleep. The S-rank pheromones lingering in the air, which should have comforted him, instead stirred waves of an indescribable heat.
An unnameable burning…
Half-awake and half-asleep, he wondered in a haze: a pheromone rejection reaction? a fever?
It didn’t feel like a susceptible period…
Yuan Shiyuan’s toes curled slightly; the pale arches of his feet rubbed helplessly against the sheets. He bit the corner of the blanket unconsciously, and the outer corners of his eyes welled with tears, very wet.
“Shiyuan?” Ying Mingxi ventured to ask.
The air in the room almost froze.
The Alphas waited for Yuan Shiyuan’s response.
There was no answer.
Multiple S-rank pheromones spread uncontrollably through the suite, filling it. The Alphas couldn’t sleep; each in a different corner, they all sensed the scent coming from the bed.
As if feeling Yuan Shiyuan’s unease, they instinctively released pheromones.
While trying to soothe him, they themselves grew inexplicably restless and overheated.
Yuan Shiyuan’s breathing in his sleep, his murmured words, acted like a potent catalyst, forcing the Alphas into agitation.
This wasn’t right.
This wasn’t how Alphas should react to one another.
Unless…
What they were smelling was the pheromone of an Omega in heat.