PMWAIAAPM Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The set is designed like last century’s scenes, the entire street rebuilt to recreate the peak of the financial real estate era, the bottom streets where common people lived.

In a gigantic studio, the bloody and dark atmosphere of the underground boxing octagonal cage is restored to a one-to-one scale.

Outside the studio, the clouds have not yet cleared, and the octagonal cage’s set has just been completed. After the lunch break, only a few staff members are coming and going.

As soon as one enters the studio, the first sight is the audience seating around—though not expansive, the seats are crowded. When the crowd grows, it’s only the sweat and passion that flow in the heat of the moment; the octagonal cage is placed right in the center, spotlighted, with only transparent dust floating in the air inside the empty cage.

“Ding—” The bell rings, Director Zheng sitting down below is cracking seeds in his hand.

Before shooting begins, the prop crew, who should be busy preparing, are instead seated in the front two rows of the audience, their faces filled with excitement as they watch the scene of the two men fighting in the octagonal cage. With the sweat dripping down, some clench their fists, veins bulging, ready to cheer for their bets at any moment.

Inside the octagonal cage, two men are sparring.

The door closes, and Tan Zhiyu, shrouded in shadows, is drawn to the two men on stage.

Xing Yang, who should have been enjoying a small cake in Jiang Cheng’s car, is instead on the stage. He threw off his formal white shirt, which was not convenient for boxing during work, revealing a tight-fitting white tank top that clings to his well-defined muscles. Sweat beads trickled down from his collarbone, soaking into the shirt, forming damp patches, each pore bursting with fine droplets, his honey-toned skin shimmering under the harsh lights, full of the aggressive essence of male hormones.

Xing Yang’s face is quite ordinary, but his physique is exceptionally beautiful.

The opponent moves quickly, and he swiftly tilts his head to dodge, his eyes narrowing like the night sky, raising his hand to throw a punch!

Jiang Ye hasn’t encountered an opponent capable of fighting him for ten rounds in a long time. Gazing at Xing Yang, the wind from the punch whooshes past. Xing Yang’s movements are crisp and clean, his eyes firm and cold, as if radiating an invisible sharpness that trembles the hearts of those present. Jiang Ye catches his left hook, raises his leg high, and strikes his lower abdomen. Although he could have dodged, Xing Yang stands firm, retreating a few steps to the spring belt.

The dull sound of strikes and footsteps is extremely professional, with each attack and response moving at lightning speed, drawing Director Zheng’s wide-eyed attention.

Xing Yang slips behind Jiang Ye, just lifting his elbow but pauses for half a second. Jiang Ye, catching it in his peripheral vision, reacts instinctively, throwing a right hook.

Bang—

Xing Yang is hit on the side of the face, retreating to the spring belt, leaving the audience momentarily stunned, followed by exclamations, “Xing, how did you zone out at the crucial moment?”

That punch could have hit Jiang Ye right in the abdomen if he had thrown it; he would definitely have fallen behind in a short time.

“Enough!” A man sitting in the audience stands up dissatisfied, holding a jacket and water cup, with a face that screams someone owes him eight hundred thousand. Dressed in all gray sportswear, he has an eye-catching appearance and an icy aura.

The group in the audience is silent upon seeing this, quietly picking up their belongings in preparation for the filming, reluctant to disrupt the ongoing sparring.

The man speaking is none other than Tan Zhiyu’s annoying neurotic—Chi Yanchuan.

The man fighting Xing Yang in the octagonal cage is his lover, Jiang Ye, hired as a martial arts instructor for this film.

Chi Yanchuan is tall, frowning as he hands over a water bottle, while busy draping a jacket over Jiang Ye’s shoulders, muttering in dissatisfaction, “We agreed it would just be a friendly match; can you mess around like this? What if he really hurts you?”

Jiang Ye smiles, “No worries, Xing Yang held back. If that punch had landed, I definitely wouldn’t have been able to get up.”

Chi Yanchuan’s expression changes at this, glaring angrily towards Xing Yang’s position, turning his back to wipe Jiang Ye’s sweat dutifully, “I had Xiao Qin heat up food in the car; can we eat before working, Jiang?”

Just as Jiang Ye agrees, Xing Yang, dressed in a shirt and smiling warmly, walks over, “Chi, long time no see.”

Chi Yanchuan doesn’t give him any face, petulantly turning away, but Xing Yang smiles even broader, glancing at Jiang Ye, “It seems the rumors are true; Jiang, your charisma is boundless, captivating Chi so much he can’t even care about his company. And your skills haven’t diminished over the years.”

Chi Yanchuan hates seeing anyone getting close to Jiang Ye in front of him, blocking Xing Yang’s outstretched hand, “Xing, the real estate industry hasn’t been doing well lately, has it? You’re free enough to come to the set to box.”

“Yanchuan, don’t be unruly.” Jiang Ye squeezes his hand in admonition, prompting Chi Yanchuan to shut up.

Xing Yang laughs gently, putting on his watch, saying softly, “It’s been tough; I’m sneaking a break in a busy period. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Xiao Chu. How has he been doing lately?”

“He’s doing much better,” Jiang Ye responds.

Xiao Chu is Jiang Ye and Chi Yanchuan’s son, a premature baby with health issues. He had once been transferred to a Swiss hospital under Xing Yang’s name for treatment, so Xing Yang naturally inquires about his condition.

Having started in real estate, Xing Yang loved boxing before he became successful, and later collaborated with the Chi family. Since Jiang Ye retired and became a coach, Xing Yang frequently attended matches, gradually getting to know him. Jiang Ye is simply surprised by this version of Xing Yang, who appears gentle and amiable. When he watched matches, he only smiled and applauded, but he didn’t expect him to be so professional when sparring, making it difficult even for his opponent.

Xing Yang has reached a competitive level; his movements are sharp and quick. If this were not a friendly match, he could have landed lethal blows multiple times.

After adjusting his watch, Xing Yang shakes Jiang Ye’s hand before preparing to leave.

Director Zheng, initially just making a fuss for fun, did not expect Xing Yang to be so capable, leaving the audience excited, grabbing Xing Yang’s hand in enthusiasm, “No way! Old Xing, when you go back, you have to teach me. You’re too damn cool!”

Xing Yang pushes him away, glancing towards a particular door with a slight smile at the corner of his mouth, “Sure, let’s train together some time.”

“Do you need some medication for that corner of your mouth?” Director Zheng asks.

Xing Yang was struck on the side of his face by that punch, causing some blood to seep inside his mouth, but it’s not serious.

Xing Yang shakes his head, taking his suit and heading towards the rear exit down the unoccupied safety corridor. Many crew members are eager to try for themselves, and as he opens the iron door, it creaks loudly as he steps away from the bustling set into the quiet stairwell.

He has a meeting at the company later in the afternoon. He touches his lips, feeling a bit dejected.

Just moments ago on stage, he thought he spotted Mr. Tan; he had intended to apologize for today’s absence but ended up not saying a word and failing again.

It seems he really doesn’t know how to flatter an Alpha, because he’s just not a good omega.

In this marriage, he feels he’s failing.

Lost in thought, he prepares to descend the stairs when the iron door of the stairwell slams shut behind him.

“Hey, why didn’t you hit back just now?” A clear voice rings out from behind him.

Xing Yang turns around, surprised to meet those peach blossom eyes that hold a teasing glint mixed with disdain.

His skin is so pale in the dim corridor it looks like a fairy stepping out of a painting, holding a bottle of iodine. He pulls a stunned Xing Yang closer, repeating, “I asked you a question; are you mute? You could have easily hit back—why take a punch?”

Xing Yang immediately responds with a smile, “If I had hit back, Jiang would have been hurt.”

“You like him?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why couldn’t you hit?” Tan Zhiyu seems puzzled.

“Jiang Ye had his reproductive cavity removed after having a child. If I hit his abdomen, he would definitely get hurt. Compared to that, it’s not a big deal for me to take a punch; it’s just a friendly match—we don’t need to take it seriously.” He explains calmly.

Tan Zhiyu mutters, “You understand him so well.”

“Doing business with the Chi family, the only weakness Chi Yanchuan has is Jiang Ye. Knowing oneself and the enemy ensures victory in every battle.” He replies indifferently.

Xing Yang, as a businessman, is very successful; he’s detail-oriented, but… something seems off.

Tan Zhiyu suddenly thinks about how Xing Yang married him from their first meeting to registration to bed within just two hours. He initially thought Xing Yang was very casual, just a run-of-the-mill omega.

Given Xing Yang’s personality, he wouldn’t do something like that.

As for why he married upon just one glance.

Perhaps it was his beauty that stunned him, and thinking of this causes Tan Zhiyu to feel inexplicably proud, silently forgiving Xing Yang for not bringing him cake today.

This nouveau riche isn’t an easy lot, so he might as well be more forgiving.

“A scheming businessman.” He dabs iodine onto the corner of Xing Yang’s mouth. Xing Yang inhales sharply in surprise from the sudden pain, and yet Tan Zhiyu lazily laughs at him, calling him, “You’re such a fool.”