Is It Really That Hard to Be the Big Brother of Two Top-Alpha Twins? - Chapter 4

Not feeling well?
There were plenty of reasons.
Chen Luan pinched his thin arm — his muscles had no strength. The feeling of rust all over his body, along with countless minor aches, made him deeply uncomfortable.
And the occasional twitch of the glands at the back of his neck was a constant reminder that he was now a drugged, unhealthy beta — not the seasoned base instructor with more than a decade of battlefield experience he once was.
On the other end of the phone, Zhou Pei was still trying to invite him to a bar in the Aurora District.
Chen Luan impatiently rubbed his ear. “What are you babbling about? First, transfer me five thousand yuan.”
“…?”
The person on the other end went silent, clearly stunned.
“I said, transfer me five thousand yuan.”
Chen Luan let out a soft chuckle, his hand instinctively reaching into his pocket for a cigarette — only to find it empty. Then he remembered: Jiang Luan didn’t smoke.
So, he casually grabbed an apple from the fruit platter held by a passing servant and crunched it loudly.
“What? Didn’t Young Master Zhou say you’d cover the medical expenses? It cost a total of 5,168.34 yuan, and I even rounded it down for you.”
He sounded all considerate.
“Okay.”
Young Master Zhou squeezed out the word through the deafening silence. “I’ll transfer the money to you later. See you at Su Ye Bar at eight o’clock tonight.”
“Oh.” Chen Luan finished the apple. “Is your brother coming?”
“Yes. I’ll have him apologize to you formally. Do you need me to pick you up?”
“No need.”
Chen Luan hung up the phone, went back to change his clothes, and then slowly strolled toward the manor gate.
[Account received: 20,000.00 yuan]
Chen Luan raised an eyebrow, accepted the money with satisfaction, and sent Zhou Pei a message:
[: Boss Zhou is generous 👍]
The other party didn’t reply.
This area was the wealthy district of Qiwei City, with private manors and villas of all sizes scattered along the gentle hillsides.
The Jiang residence sat halfway up the mountain, a tranquil lake stretching just beyond the manor grounds.
A few lights shimmered on the lakeside under the night sky.
Chen Luan paused for a moment, remarking to himself that there were fishermen everywhere, no matter the era.
Back at the S17 base, there had been a logistics man called Uncle Seven, though no one ever knew his real name.
The old man, well over seventy, had loved fishing more than anything. Whenever he could, he’d tag along with the gathering teams to collect supplies — mostly just to sneak in a bit of fishing time.
The morning before the beast tide, Uncle Seven had proudly shown off two enormous fish, each half as long as a man. He’d even invited Chen Luan over for fish soup the next day.
He must have lived to see victory, Chen Luan thought. The old man had been tough as nails.
Walking as he reminisced, Chen Luan reached the rail station at the foot of the mountain, only to realize that the last train had already gone.
But he wasn’t worried. He took out his phone and called Zhou Pei.
“Boss Zhou, the last train is gone. Can you pick me up?”
The other end was noisy, chaotic music spilling through the speaker.
Taken aback by Chen Luan’s casual tone, Zhou Pei finally moved to a quieter spot. “Send me your location.”
Chen Luan did so, then found a place to sit down.
He thought Zhou Pei seemed all right, actually.
About seven or eight minutes later, a car pulled up in the distance.
So fast?
Chen Luan looked up toward the headlights — and realized the car looked familiar.
Whoosh.
The car stopped.
The back window rolled down, and Chen Luan saw that the Jiang twins had returned from school.
“Chen Luan? What are you doing here?”
Chen Luan glanced at the boy’s crooked tie. Ah, this one was Jiang Ling.
“Waiting for the bus. Just going out for a bit,” Chen Luan said casually, leaning against the lamppost with a hard candy tucked in his mouth.
He’d had a smoking habit before, but Jiang Luan hadn’t smoked.
Now that it wasn’t wartime — no more life-or-death days — Chen Luan figured he might as well quit too. He’d grabbed a handful of fruit candies from the Jiang residence and kept them in his pocket, eating one whenever he felt like it.
Having been reborn into a peaceful era and already in poor health, Chen Luan didn’t intend to ruin himself any further.
He wanted to see this new world properly.
In the dark, most of him was wrapped in deep blue shadows, with only the sharp line of his jaw and the curve of his lips catching the light.
His beautiful eyes were half-lidded, lazy, and calm, and his cheeks were rounded by the candy in his mouth.
Before, Chen Luan had always lowered his head around the twins. They had rarely seen him look at them directly — at eye level, or even slightly downwards — like this.
Jiang Xun frowned.
Chen Luan’s uncharacteristic posture made him uncomfortable… yet also strangely intrigued.
“The last bus already passed. What are you waiting for?” Jiang Ling said mockingly. “Did you take drugs and get stupid?”
“Why didn’t you ask the driver to take you?” Jiang Xun asked.
He’d wanted to ask that question for a long time.
In the six years since Chen Luan came to live with the Jiang family, he had never once asked the driver to pick him up.
He’d always behaved like a guest under someone else’s roof — timid, quiet, overly polite.
The Jiangs wouldn’t have eaten him alive, but he treated the house as if it were a wolf’s den, treading carefully, not even daring to give the servants orders.
Who knew Chen Luan would just lift his eyes and spread his hands? “Oh? But I don’t have the driver’s contact number.”
He really didn’t know if Jiang Luan had one; there was no “Driver X” in his contacts.
And if he said he didn’t have it, that meant he didn’t.
The driver tactfully handed over his phone for Chen Luan to scan.
Then he saw the message pop up:
[The other party is already your friend. Please do not add again.]
There was no name, just the single character Zheng — presumably the driver’s ID.
The air turned awkward.
Chen Luan slapped his forehead and lied smoothly, “Ah, right, I forgot I added you before. Sorry, Uncle Zheng.”
“…Young Master, my surname is Liu. Liu Zheng.”
“Sorry, Uncle Liu.”
“But I’m only thirty,” Driver Liu said, touching his balding forehead with faint resentment.
Chen Luan: “…”
Chen Luan: “Right! Brother Liu, then.”
Too lazy to keep watching them clown around, Jiang Ling kicked the back of the seat. “Let’s go, I’m starving! The school food’s terrible — I need a snack!”
Buzz—
A sudden car horn drew their attention.
Chen Luan turned and saw a silver-gray car slowly approach.
He had no concept of car brands in this era, but it looked expensive — easily on par with the Jiangs’ cars, maybe even flashier.
“Jiang Luan.”
A handsome face appeared behind the misty gray car window — sharp features, sword-like brows, and bright eyes behind refined silver-rimmed glasses.
“Zhou Pei?!” Jiang Ling snapped, glaring at the man in the tailored suit behind the glass.
The man didn’t even glance his way.
At twenty-seven, gradually taking over the Zhou Group’s businesses, Zhou Pei had no reason to pay attention to a fifteen-year-old brat.
But for Jiang Xun and Jiang Ling, that face brought back unpleasant memories — back before the Jiang family’s rise.
Back then, the spirited twenty-two-year-old Zhou Pei had forced his younger brother Zhou Jing to bow and apologize for bullying them. But the cold arrogance in his eyes had made the twins feel even worse.
At the time, the Zhou Group was a giant the Jiangs couldn’t afford to offend — not when Jiang Yongting was just a city councilor. Even that half-hearted apology had felt like charity.
Now, at twenty-seven, Zhou Pei seemed more polished, but the twins still believed people didn’t really change.
Neither the original Jiang Luan nor the current Chen Luan knew any of this.
So, when Chen Luan got into Zhou Pei’s car, Jiang Xun frowned slightly, and Jiang Ling threw his backpack down. “Damn it. You never learn. Drive! Go home!”
The window rolled up with a thud.
Inside the other car, Chen Luan sat in the passenger seat, crunching the candy in his mouth.
“What did those two kids do to you?”
Zhou Pei glanced sideways at him, lounging comfortably in the soft seat, eyes half-closed. “Some old stories. Jiang Luan, you’ve really changed.”
The Jiang Luan of the past had always sat properly in the car, respectfully calling him Young Master Zhou.
But today, he’d teasingly called him Boss Zhou, asked him for a ride, and even demanded money.
It was strange — yet not unpleasant.
“Me?”
Chen Luan looked out at the glowing city lights, slipped another candy into his mouth, and said lazily, “Guess I’ve just come to terms with things.”
He didn’t know what Jiang Luan had been like before. From the one photo he’d seen, maybe a little introverted?
Didn’t matter. If anything, he could just claim the illness had scrambled his brain and changed his personality.
They drove in silence until they reached the bar.
Following Zhou Pei through the deafening music and crowded dance floor, the two quickly entered a private room.
Inside, the air was thick with noise and smoke. Bottles and glasses crowded the low table, and on the stage, a group of handsome young men were dancing while several brightly-haired teenagers whistled below.
But the moment Zhou Pei stepped in, it was as if someone hit pause.
Everyone froze, straightened up, and greeted in unison, “Young Master Zhou.”
Everyone except one man — Zhou Jing, whose photo had been posted in the group chat.
He sat sprawled on the sofa, legs crossed, a half-dressed boy in his arms. With a lazy nod toward his brother, he said, “Big brother.”
Leaning against the doorframe, Chen Luan watched Zhou Pei’s brows draw together, amusement glinting in his eyes.
“Is this how you apologize?” Zhou Pei said coldly.
“Zhou Jing. Stand up.”
Seeing his brother’s expression, Zhou Jing released the boy and raised his glass toward Chen Luan behind Zhou Pei. “Brother, it really wasn’t on purpose. See? Nothing happened. Jiang Luan, have a drink, and we’ll call it even, all right?”
He lifted the glass toward Chen Luan’s lips.
Zhou Pei’s face darkened further. He smacked the glass out of Zhou Jing’s hand.
“Zhou Jing. Is this your way of apologizing?”
Wine splashed across the floor.
The atmosphere froze solid.
Zhou Pei’s shoulders were taut; Zhou Jing, humiliated in front of his own friends, looked equally uneasy.
“Hey, hey, don’t get angry yet.”
Chen Luan walked out with a calm smile and flicked on the main light in the private room with a sharp snap.
The sudden brightness left everyone, long accustomed to dim lighting, momentarily blinded.
When their eyes adjusted, they saw Chen Luan rolling up his shirt sleeves, revealing the pale curve of his forearm, and striding toward Zhou Jing.
“You drugged him?”
Zhou Jing, squinting and raising a hand to block the glare, frowned. “What are you doing? Turn off the light—you’ll go blind.”
“I asked you a question.”
Chen Luan stepped closer, planting one foot on the sofa beside Zhou Jing, his shadow falling over the younger man’s face. “You drugged him?”
The sudden sense of pressure made Zhou Jing shift uncomfortably. He was about to snap back, but when he caught his brother’s cold stare, he swallowed his temper and pushed Chen Luan away. “It wasn’t me. It was Yang Qi.”
“Who’s Yang Qi?” Chen Luan asked evenly.
“Yang Qi—don’t you recognize him?” Zhou Jing, still oblivious to Chen Luan’s tone, pointed toward a green-haired man standing near the stage. “Yang Qi, come here and apologize to Young Master Jiang.”
He gave the man a rough kick. “Damn it, you’re always causing trouble.”
The green-haired man didn’t seem to mind the kick. Grinning lazily, he sauntered forward and gave a half-hearted bow. “Sorry, Young Master Jiang. Just a joke, no harm done.”
Jiang Luan had a reputation for being mild-tempered; inappropriate remarks in the past usually ended with a casual apology.
This time, though, Yang Qi had been curious—wondering whether an omega’s suppressant would affect a beta.
If it worked, he’d planned to send Jiang Luan to Young Master Zhou’s bed. Maybe Zhou Pei would be pleased enough to toss him a few small contracts in return.
Everyone there knew that Young Master Zhou had taken a liking to Jiang Luan’s face — a face even more beautiful than most omegas.
“Oh? Just joking?”
Chen Luan’s smile deepened as he eyed the green-haired man. Without warning, he grabbed a beer bottle from the table and—before anyone could react—
Bang!
He smashed it squarely against the man’s forehead.
Glass shards and foamy beer burst into the air. For one stunned heartbeat, the room went dead silent—then erupted into a chorus of gasps and shouts.