The door slammed with a loud “Thud!”
The layout of Room 1301 had changed, now adorned with unfamiliar carpets and lighting, its once bright tones transformed into a dim, opulent sheen under the lamps. Only the view outside remained the same.
“Children should leave.”
As they brushed past each other, White Rabbit Yi Changkong’s shoulders trembled. “Brother Pei, your, your clothes…”
A full suit, soaked from head to toe.
Pei Zhen hadn’t meant for that. He had been too angry, and when he got out of the car, he’d actually forgotten his umbrella. Now, facing those amber-colored eyes, he had calmed down considerably. He just repeated flatly, “Get out!”
Yi Changqing also nodded. “Changkong, you go out first.”
Behind them, the door clicked shut softly.
Pei Zhen wiped his face. Water from his dripping clothes seeped into the carpet, creating a small dark patch.
The five-star hotel room was large, and the empty full-length mirror reflected a cold, hard, composed man—like him, yet not quite like him.
Pei Zhen’s self-perception had never been associated with the word “impulsive.”
Perhaps because life had once beaten him down so much that he had grown accustomed to either minimizing everything or bottling it up and digesting it on his own. For four years, his attitude toward Yi Changqing had been one of avoidance—unwilling to see him, unwilling to bring him up, ostrich-like in his evasion.
Yet today, he had floored the gas pedal and raced straight here.
Refreshingly free of hesitation, even he was surprised.
…It was probably the little wolfdog, who had given him armor.
After all, he had witnessed it with his own eyes—Han Fu had worked tirelessly for over a month, throwing himself into books and classes. With all that effort, suddenly being banned from competition, how aggrieved must he feel?
He didn’t want him to feel wronged.
He had promised to protect him all the way, and he intended to guard him carefully all along.
Just as he was about to speak— “Achoo—!”
His momentum was instantly deflated.
Dammit, forgetting his umbrella really was… Never mind, Pei Zhen realized that his temperament had indeed improved quite a bit compared to before. Even in such a situation, he could still privately find it a little amusing.
It’s always a good thing to mature.
Like this impulsive dash here, yet still being able to maintain essential calm and rationality—not just yelling and venting resentment.
No point. Young people vent their emotions; old hands excel at enticement and threats.
…
A dry towel was handed over, and Pei Zhen didn’t refuse.
At his withered, dying age, better dry his hair quickly—if he caught a cold, the little wolfdog would probably cry again.
“How did you manage this? You’re completely drenched,” he heard Yi Changqing’s reproachful tone as he dried off. “You came alone today? Your ‘secretary’ didn’t follow?”
Pei Zhen: “…Your memory is as good as ever.”
“An opponent even Lister conceded to—I’m naturally impressed.”
Yi Changqing gave a soft laugh and turned on the electric kettle. Pei Zhen also laughed softly. Hah, so he’s even planning to brew tea for him?
“But actually, you don’t need to worry too much about him.”
“…”
“Although Han Fu is highly talented, from now on I’ll keep him by my side, help him establish his own brand, and take the independent design route. In this lifetime, he will absolutely never take a job at a company like Belle.”
This was a sort of polite warning, and he waited for Yi Changqing’s reply.
Unexpectedly, despite such blunt words, Yi Changqing seemed to miss the point entirely and fell silent for a moment.
“You’re planning… to start an independent fragrance brand for him?”
Pei Zhen: “Yes.”
“Is he even worthy?”
Pei Zhen: “…”
This statement… It sounded a bit strange?
What did that mean? Of course he’s worthy of it.
Or rather, Pei Zhen just couldn’t understand—did I dig up your family’s ancestral graves in a past life or what? I’ve clearly said there’s no competitive relationship with you. If I’m happy to open a brand, do I need your assessment of whether it’s okay or not?
Forget it, forget it, this is exhausting. No more beating around the bush. Time to be direct.
“I can guarantee that our future brand will never follow a similar style to Belle, won’t take any resources from you or your younger brother, and certainly won’t pose any threat to either of your futures.”
He really did brew tea for him.
Pei Zhen, not standing on ceremony, took a big, casual sip.
“So, I also hope Belle can take a step back and not force me to use special measures.”
As he spoke, he lowered his eyes to watch the little tea leaves floating in the cup. After a moment of silence, Yi Changqing said, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying, back then, that ‘Bamboo Millet’ essential oil that made it into the Hall of Fame—only to bring my complete ruin and have me expelled from the industry—was actually made by you. Deep down, you vaguely know this too, don’t you?”
“…”
“So, even if there really was a problem, at that time I could have shifted half the responsibility, or even all of it, onto you, saying it was all your fault, that you deceived me.”
“But I didn’t.”
“…”
“I still have the remaining half bottle. It has the label, and even your handwritten note on it—conclusive evidence.”
“However,” he smiled, “I have no intention of hindering your brilliant career. So, let’s each take a step back. About what happened back then, I still won’t say a word. Similarly, you are not to do anything else to obstruct Han Fu’s future.”
With every sentence he spoke, Yi Changqing’s expression grew uglier. By the time he finished, the man renowned for his aloofness was, quite uncharacteristically, shaking slightly with anger.
“You… are threatening me?”
Pei Zhen nodded. “That’s right.”
“This past month, I’ve been running around all over the country. Up until now… I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
His expression was both angry and wronged. In fact, it looked very much like sincere innocence.
But who knew?
Pei Zhen had, after all, witnessed his brilliant acting skills.
Once, he had been very willing to believe him, willing to believe in many small happinesses of the world. Yi Changqing’s little excitements, his little shynesses—they were likely no worse than what the current little wolfdog could pull off.
He was also young back then.
Immersed in the illusion of mutual affection, shared interests, and common pursuits, feeling unbelievably lucky to think they could blend fragrances together for a lifetime. Until one day, he suddenly discovered that Yi Changqing had never truly liked him.
Since then, whatever this man called Yi Changqing said or did, he no longer dared to be certain of anything.
…
Pei Zhen was not the type to impulsively cast blame or wrong an innocent person.
He was also well aware of basic logic—he had never harmed Yi Changqing, and Yi Changqing had never loved him. Rationally speaking, even if Yi Changqing looked down on him for liking men, there was no need to go to such extremes.
But if it wasn’t Yi Changqing who did this, who else could it be?
“There aren’t even that many Asian employees in all of Belle. Who else would dig up the Bamboo Millet incident from back then?”
Pei had once been a flash in the pan and then vanished without a trace. People’s forgetfulness is vast. Most people at Belle today probably didn’t even know he—or that brand—had ever existed, let alone who would chase after a clueless newbie like Han Fu who had only been studying fragrance for two months.
Yi Changqing flared up too. “In your eyes, am I that kind of person? Do you really think I’d be jealous of him? Would hinder him?”
Pei Zhen shook his head. It was pure rational analysis.
Yi Changqing himself might not feel threatened by Han Fu, but he was famously doting on his younger brother, and it wasn’t impossible he’d clear obstacles for his brother’s sake.
“So, now you… you’re just like all of them, aren’t you?” Yi Changqing’s voice trembled. “Others can casually look down on me, but you can’t!”
I can’t? What is he talking about?
The breath was suddenly close, an intense sense of incongruity. Pei Zhen couldn’t understand—from start to finish, who exactly was looking down on whom?
Even more absurdly, in his fury, Yi Changqing actually grabbed his chin forcefully.
Pei Zhen genuinely felt that he must have wandered onto the wrong set today, or gotten the wrong script. What kind of scene was this? He secretly raised his hand, stopping it just a couple of inches from Yi Changqing’s nape.
His legs might be bad, but his hands were still steady, precise, and lethal.
One chop here, and even if he didn’t pass out, he’d have a stiff neck for days.
But just at that moment, behind him came a “beep—” and the lock clicked. Someone rushed in like the wind, kicking Yi Changqing straight to the ground.
The little wolfdog was all wolf and no dog today.
His eyes were red, completely bloodshot. Had he not lunged forward to hold him back, this room would have instantly turned into a murder scene.
“Han Xiaohua… Han Xiaohua!”
Struggling to pull him back, his waist was suddenly grabbed. The usually foolishly sweet little wolfdog, today brimming with tension and possessiveness, clamped his arms around him and bit down fiercely on his lips.
Right in front of a certain staunch straight man.
…
Originally, for the entire afternoon, Han Fu had been diligently competing.
The attitude of Class 5’s students… was indeed much more earnest than those opponents they’d encountered before.
After all, they had all passed the bottleneck of advancing from Fourth Phase Class, so they no longer casually took the stage with a “participation is what counts” attitude like lower grades, losing and just sticking out their tongues and letting it go.
Instead, each one harbored the conviction of “entering the industry” in the future, having undergone two full years of serious and demanding study at the academy. To them, losing to a newbie from Class 1 was truly humiliating and something they were unwilling to accept.
But Han Fu also wanted to win, and he couldn’t afford to let that cloud his focus.
First match: the fragrance to replicate was Apollo’s “Terre.” Patchouli, geranium, a pale golden, elegant and warm men’s eau de toilette—legendary scent of the all-embracing earth. Identify, replicate, best of three.
Second match: the fragrance to replicate was Redberry’s “Weekend Reading.” Grapefruit, lemon, pineapple, citrus, blended with oakmoss and papery notes, perfectly suiting the refined aura of a literary young woman curled up in her study on a quiet weekend. Identify, replicate, best of three.
Third match: the fragrance to replicate was Cici’s “Graceful.” Freesia, green leaves, and citrus peel, an incredibly light and lively leaping young woman’s fragrance, with a surprisingly warm chocolate finish, rendering a girl’s sweetness to the fullest. Identify, replicate, best of three.
Fourth match: the fragrance to replicate was Cardamome’s “Brilliant.” Saffron, cyperus, spicy floral notes mixed with woody aromas, in a passionately red bottle, brimming with mature, sensual allure and infectious energy. Identify, replicate, best of three.
Fifth match: the fragrance to replicate was Les Étoiles’s “Ink,” Han Fu’s absolute favorite, the very scent clinging to Zhenzhen—naturally, he couldn’t lose this one either.
Thus, match after match, exchanging “Thank you for the guidance,” he secured his qualifying spot.
Actually, there was later a segment for prize distribution, but Han Fu couldn’t care less about prizes. His mind was solely fixed on rushing to find Zhenzhen to share this great news, maybe even sneak a kiss—what prize could compare to a kiss and a hug?!
Just as he was about to step out, he halted.
He spotted Yu Wenzhe’s retreating figure, wiping away tears and walking out the back door all alone.
“…”
Turning back, he saw the scoreboard from another group that had just finished.
Class 5’s matches consisted of ten groups—five in the morning, five in the afternoon—with the top scorer from each group facing off two-by-two to decide the five who would advance to the finals.
And Yu Wenzhe, having clearly fought his way to first in his group, had still lost by a narrow margin in the final ten-to-five matchup, missing his ticket to the finals.
…
The big tree was lush and green. Summer’s heat was approaching, branches luxuriant, everything thriving.
Yet it only made the figure beneath the tree seem all the more lost.
Han Fu reached out a hand but couldn’t find the words to console him.
Old Yu had… given up a job to chase his dream. Having been unable to advance to Sixth Phase Class, and now losing the qualifier by just a step—these were enormous blows.
He stood awkwardly behind him for a while. Finally, Yu Wenzhe turned around, his nose red, looking slightly embarrassed.
“I, I’m fine. It’s just my rhinitis acting up.”
But how could a perfumer have rhinitis? People with rhinitis can’t become perfumers, dude!
“I just saw you successfully advanced,” Yu Wenzhe said, wiping his eyes. “That’s great, really happy for you guys. I tell you, I’m like a lucky koi—whoever hangs out with me ends up blending great fragrances. You keep working hard, I’ll come watch your finals the day after tomorrow.”
“Really, don’t worry about me. It’s not like I’m completely out of chances. There’s still the open auditions later, right?”
As he spoke, they both noticed several administrative teachers striding over aggressively behind Han Fu. It looked like even the department head and homeroom teacher were there?
What were they doing here?
…
Principal’s Office.
“This is totally unfair! When that Bamboo Millet incident happened, how old was Han Fu? He was still in high school, right? What does any of this have to do with him?!”
“Just because he’s friends with that perfumer, you’re banning him from competition? I’m also his friend! Gu Jingxing is also my friend! Everyone in Grasse’s Sixth Phase Class could be considered Gu Jingxing’s friend! Why not just disqualify all of us while you’re at it?!”
To be honest, Han Fu was still in a daze, having just been informed of his disqualification.
