President's Unwanted Omega

chapter one

The soft, insistent chime of the alarm pierced the heavy silence of the master bedroom in the Shen family mansion, nestled deep within the misty hills of Jianghu. Dawn had barely broken, the first pale rays of sunlight filtering through the heavy silk curtains like reluctant intruders. Gao Tu's eyes snapped open on the wide, velvet-upholstered sofa that had become his nightly refuge for the past month. His heart jolted as his body teetered dangerously close to the edge; one more inch and he would have tumbled onto the cold marble floor. He steadied himself with a silent breath, palms pressing into the fabric, sage-scented pheromones faintly blooming in his nervousness before he quickly suppressed them.

His gaze instinctively drifted toward the massive four-poster bed across the room. Shen Wenlang lay there, still deep in sleep, one muscular arm flung over his eyes, chest rising and falling in steady, untroubled rhythm. The alpha's powerful frame dominated the sheets, dark hair tousled against the pillow, his sharp jaw relaxed in rare vulnerability. Even in repose, Shen Wenlang radiated that cold, untouchable arrogance—the same aura that had turned their high-school friendship into distant memory and their arranged marriage into this suffocating formality. Gao Tu's throat tightened. They shared this room, this life, yet they were strangers bound by paper and parental will. Every night Gao Tu folded himself onto the sofa, careful not to make a sound, careful not to exist too loudly in the space Shen Wenlang claimed as his own.

Gao Tu moved like a shadow. Bare feet touched the floor without a whisper. He gathered his simple cotton sleep clothes and slipped into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door with the softest click. The warm water of the shower cascaded over his lithe, handsome frame, washing away the stiffness from another night on the sofa. Steam rose, carrying the clean, herbal note of his sage scent, but he kept it muted, controlled. He dressed quickly in a neat white shirt and dark trousers—modest, practical, nothing that screamed "Shen family omega." A quick glance in the mirror: pale skin, delicate features, quiet eyes that hid too much. He looked every bit the shy, silent boy who had once harbored a secret crush on the untouchable Shen Wenlang in high school. That boy felt like a stranger now.

He emerged from the bathroom on silent feet, paused at the bedroom door to listen. Shen Wenlang's breathing remained even. Good. Gao Tu eased the door open, slipped through, and closed it behind him with practiced care. The long corridor of the mansion stretched before him, lined with antique lanterns that cast a golden glow. He descended the grand staircase, the faint clatter of utensils already drifting up from the kitchen like a familiar morning song.

In the expansive, warmly lit kitchen—far too grand for its current solitary occupant—stood Ying Yi. The retired omega officer moved with graceful efficiency, sleeves rolled up, blue lily scent soft and comforting in the air as he stirred a pot of fragrant congee. His warm, kind features softened further when he noticed Gao Tu hovering at the threshold.

"Honey," Ying Yi greeted gently, a smile curving his lips. "You're up early again. Go back and rest; I've got this."

Gao Tu stepped forward without hesitation, rolling up his own sleeves. "Mr. Ying Yi, let me help. It's the least I can do." His voice was quiet, almost timid, but steady. He took a knife and began slicing green onions with precise, practiced motions, the way he had done every morning since the wedding.

Ying Yi sighed fondly but didn't refuse this time, handing him another task. They worked side by side in companionable near-silence, the only sounds the rhythmic chop of blades and the gentle simmer of pots. Gao Tu's movements were efficient, born from years of part-time restaurant work to support his sister's dreams abroad. He never complained, never asked for anything. Even now, married into unimaginable wealth, he still slipped out to his modest restaurant job later, refusing to touch the credit cards Ying Yi had pressed into his hands.