In the early morning of September 17th, a middle-aged man was anxiously waiting for his new golden ticket to arrive. Dean Zhao couldn't even remember how he scrambled to his feet when he got that phone call, rushing out of his office with a vigor that wasn't appropriate for either his age or his chubby body. Now, he was walking in circles in front of the School of Drama and Film, begging all the Gods he knew (in alphabetical order, nevertheless) to bless him with a honey tongue and a sharp mind, thinking that maybe... Just maybe, his qualifications weren't sufficient for the task ahead.

For the shrewd Dean Zhao, that was a thought his brain never gave birth to, not once in all his fifty-plus years of life. And yet, here he was, violently sweating and almost trembling from anxiety under the mellow sun, obsessively fixing his thin bangs repeatedly to make a good impression.

But what could light such a fire inside a heart made of stone, transforming a calm and collected man into a jittery mass that managed to trip his right foot with his left, panicking more than an innocent Omega on the eve of their wedding night?!

A royal visit, of course.

That morning, Dean Zhao arrived at work fashionably late as usual, unperturbed by either rain or thunder. After all, as the Dean of the School of Drama and Film, he was used to all kinds of ancient tragedies happening simultaneously, from students trying to poison each other for roles to teachers trying to poison each other for resources. In a sense, the entire department was a big melting pot of venomous insects, competing like Gu worms to see who could succeed and end up in jail first. And he, he was the master of them all... The holder of industry contacts, the supreme existence who always had the media on speed dial, and the golden hand that distributed budgets. In his more than a decade as the head of the department, there hasn't been a storm that managed to bring him down, or a scandal that he couldn't swiftly control from behind the scenes.

And yet, there was nothing in the air that signaled what was about to come, nor did his horoscope warn him about a real possibility of impending doom.

Dean Zhao sat down on his expensive leather chair and opened his laptop, clicking on the latest news. He enjoyed staying connected to the world around him, particularly the entertainment industry. Therefore, in the last couple of years or so, reading the news became his little before-work ritual. 

"Tsk, would you look at that..." he commented while biting the straw of his cup, taking a sip of his extra-sweet, two-pump vanilla latte. On the screen of his laptop, the latest scoop showed a not-so-censored picture of a famous Omega actor, caught in a scandal with a married investor. "This child..." Dean Zhao continued, "he never knew how to guard his privacy. Too bad he did not get to learn under Teacher Xu, maybe a thing or two would have stuck with him." That young man was an alumnus of the National University of the Arts, graduating straight to the big screen, in part thanks to his talent, but also thanks to his universal appeal to older, powerful men. While in school, he was already proficient in the three celestial arts of gambling, prostitution, and arson, doing everything from intimidating weaker Omegas with his pheromones, stealing roles by inventing scandals that ruined his classmates' reputations while he used his private charms to win the auditions, and even setting fire to his boyfriend's scooter when he tried to break up with him. His black history was long and extensive, but, for reasons unknown, he managed to thrive in the entertainment industry under the image of a delicate and romantic Omega, untouched by the filth of the mortal world.

That is, until that very morning. 

Dean Zhao read with gusto as dozens of articles sprouted like mushrooms after rain, all of them condemning the little black flower. To his trained eye, it was obvious the young actor danced and danced until he pirouetted his way into the wolf's mouth, finally messing with someone he shouldn't have touched. Suddenly, the mobile phone on his desk started ringing, in a way that seemed more urgent than usual, if something like that was even possible.

"Hello," Dean Zhao answered the call, his eyes still glued to his laptop's screen and his finger still scrolling. "Zhao Feng here, with whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" 

"Hello, Mr. Zhao, this is Tian Wei from Master Li's studio." The voice on the other side belonged to a young man, easily traveling through the air to Dean Zhao's old and calloused ears. It was a voice that was both gentle and airy; however, it came with a cold gust of wind that instantly sent shivers down Zhao Feng's back... Like the sharp tongue of a poisonous snake, coming out of the receiver just to lick your ear and speak in riddles about forbidden desires, urging you to fall into sin. "I'm calling on behalf of our Young Master. Father heard that your department is preparing an installation for the annual gala... Since our Young Master returned home, we were wondering if you'd be interested in a collaboration." 

As soon as the words "Master Li" came out of his mobile phone, Dean Zhao jumped to his feet, both scared and excited. Who in the art world didn't know that name?! 

The one and only Li Minghua, the revered Alpha sculptor turned national treasure, who was known for his monumental public works and uncompromising vision! To put it simply, he was a man who had it all: he was the current head of the powerful Li family and a symbol of traditional Alpha supremacy, married to the gorgeous and delicate Lady Wen and father to a pair of Alpha/Omega children, each more famous than the other. As for Tian Wei, the boy on the other side of the phone, he was Master Li's adopted son and the Young Master's little companion, a talented but unlucky bastard who was cursed to forever live in the shadows.

"Y...Yes! We would be honoured!" Dean Zhao stuttered while answering. "When can we meet and discuss the details? Should I come over to the studio when it's convenient for Master Li?"

"Actually, let me first apologise for the short notice, but..." Tian Wei said, his voice sounding not at all apologetic. "Our Young Master is, in fact, on his way over as we speak. Father was very happy to see him back, so he asked us not to delay the matter. He should arrive any moment now."

For a moment, Dean Zhao felt his head turn to lead and roll down the pristine floors of his office, like a wooden doll dismembered by a spoiled child. Master Li... The Young Master... Was coming?! Now?! Already on his way?!

To here?! 

In the end, he did not know how he ended that phone call, if he was able to convey his gratitude or not, or whether he managed to sound completely sane while doing so. When he came back to his senses, Dean Zhao was already in front of the University's gates, plowing the grass with the heels of his expensive, designer shoes. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was a clear shade of blue, the birds were singing opera arias, and the flowers were blooming, but inside Zhao Feng's head... All hell broke loose!

Since returning to the country, the Young Master of the Li family had zero presence in the media, and virtually no one knew he was back. However, on that glorious day of September 17th, he was coming to his alma mater at his father's command, eager to make a name for himself on the domestic art scene. What did that mean for their university? It was a pot of gold falling from heaven, of course! Associating with the Li family could only raise the university’s artistic profile, and having such a big name perform for them spelled two shiny words: press and donors~ 

Dean Zhao would have loved nothing more than to frolic in his upcoming success, imagining carts full of gold lining up in front of the School of Drama and Film in a procession that would rival the legendary royal dowry, while he would give interviews left and right, with the biggest grin on his face...

However, there was one big problem.

Young Master Li, ah! 

The child was reclusive and kinda weird if one dared to be rude, and Dean Zhao knew almost nothing about him. Back when he was a student, he spent his days cooped up inside the concrete walls of the Sculpture Department, playing with mud and doing who knows what, away from anyone's eyes. He was never the center of attention, never failed an exam, and was never involved in a scandal, a feat in itself for an art student. In addition to the weak mark he left in the collective memory of the National University of the Arts, Young Master Li also packed his bags as soon as he graduated, leaving for Europe and not visiting once for the next five years!

Now, Dean Zhao struggled to piece together any available information he had about the young man, probably using his entire repertoire of willpower and determination. And yet, everything he managed to come up with was just cliche bits of information gathered from random people's mouths: Young Master Li was an Alpha, probably conventionally attractive, and filthy rich.

And that was all. The man was airtight; no one knew his weaknesses, and Dean Zhao had no idea how to attract him, or more importantly, how to keep him. How could he tie Young Master Li to their School of Drama and Film, forever entangle him, and guarantee a collaboration that would go on for at least a hundred years?!

There was nothing but silence and cold bursts of wind inside Zhao Feng's mind, and, for the first time in probably ever, he regretted banning the infamous gossip column on the university's forum, thinking there might have been some information in there. In the end, he even swore to the Gods above that if he made it past today, he would go back and release it from the little black room, promising to never interfere with his student's hobbies. But just as his eyes started to glaze over and his train of thought went past the boundaries of Earth and into the interstellar frontier, a smudge of black caught Dean Zhao's attention.

On the tree-lined road, an unassuming black car slowly made its way over, with a kind of patience that stabbed straight at Dean Zhao's nerves. When it arrived in front of the university's gates, it stopped, and a young man got out of the driver's seat, casually walking towards him. However, he was completely alone. No driver, no personal assistant, and not even a little companion to carry his sketchbook... Just a young man walking unhurried, with his hands in his pockets. 

For a second, Dean Zhao even doubted it was him, since that man's appearance was relaxed to the point of sloppiness, not at all carrying the aura that came with his surname. However, when he raised his head, a pair of piercing green eyes shot straight at Dean Zhao's head, like the glare of a frosty sword. It was those eyes that showed his status, the trademark of an Alpha born to the Li family.

So it was him. Young Master Li, Li Zhen.