Fine him!
…
Early the next morning, Han Fu donned his white lab coat at the perfumer’s workstation, held his breath, gathered his focus, and brimmed with energy as he officially began his very first attempt at independently creating a fragrance.
And then he suddenly discovered—yes, he had the drive.
He just had completely… no ideas.
“…”
The feeling was remarkably like taking a language exam only to be faced with an open-ended essay prompt: “Please devise your own title, write freely, with no word limit and no topic restrictions.”
Sounded easy, but without even a basic framework to work within, his mind just went blank!
Should he try a combination of bergamot, grapefruit, vetiver, and tobacco?
Nah, wouldn’t that just feel like a cheap imitation of InK and another men’s fragrance called “Sexy [Censored]”?
What about… coffee, cocoa bean, vanilla, and bitter orange?
That felt a bit like a mishmash, an awkward chimera of various chocolate-themed sweet perfumes.
Maybe he should just use his favorite and most familiar citrus notes to anchor a theme!
But… “Orange Verte,” “Rich Orange Blossom,” “Lemon Basil & Mandarin,” “Citrus Green Tea,” “Orange Starlight”… so many brilliant citrus ideas had already been preemptively claimed by countless existing creations. Right now, he couldn’t think of anything newer or better.
And then he realized, dismally, that it wasn’t just citrus. Rose, jasmine, hyacinth, patchouli…
It seemed for every kind of flower or plant, a legion of excellent creations already stood before him. His ideas compared to theirs? Hah!
He was utterly at a loss, unable to even begin.
He stood there for a while, then shook his head. No, no. He only had one week, total. Even if he didn’t know how to proceed, he had to just jump in and start experimenting!
And soon—
Sedimentation.
He’d sedimented.
Sigh, the sedimentation had returned. Tried again, fell straight back into the curse of sedimentation.
Han Fu pinched the bridge of his nose. What he urgently needed right now was a miracle.
A miracle like that time he had perfectly replicated InK.
But without even a basic theme or creative concept, trying to create one’s own perfume? How could a miracle possibly strike that easily?!
…
By the time the clock struck half past ten, Han Fu’s back ached, his waist was sore, his legs were cramping, and he was thoroughly miserable. He missed Pei Zhen, who was at work, desperately.
Thinking back on those words Pei Zhen had spoken in the bathroom yesterday—indeed, he should have heeded his elder’s earnest advice.
He had vastly oversimplified things! Perfuming was just too difficult. He had been racking his brains endlessly, but the results were either sedimentary, or produced concoctions that screamed “cheap knock-off of a classic,” carrying the unmistakable inferiority of something poorly copied!
As for that thing called backbone…
Sometimes it was rock-solid; at other times, it vanished in a split second!
After sedimenting for the umpteenth time, the man, now utterly convinced he would likely never be able to properly concoct his own perfume in his lifetime, crouched pathetically in a corner by the desk, desperate to call Pei Zhen immediately and admit, “I was wrong.”
Ugh, I have no talent at all. If I were to agree to the private label idea now, to use your finished perfume instead… is it still too late?!
…
His phone had rung three full times before Han Fu heard it.
Three missed calls from “My Dearest, Most Beloved Zhenzhen.” He snapped his head around. To his horror, he realized it was already past half-past twelve. A chill ran straight through his heart.
“I’m sorry, Zhenzhen! I—I completely lost track of time!”
He had finally gotten a rare day off from school and had been especially attentive, especially eager this morning, asking Pei Zhen to wait for him to deliver a lovingly prepared bento lunch at noon. And the result? Lunchtime was nearly over, and the kitchen stove hadn’t even been turned on. He had completely forgotten to make the bento!
Now, if he’d had some achievement worth showing off from the morning, forgetting the bento might have been somewhat excusable.
But the cruel reality was: aside from successfully wasting a considerable amount of precious ingredients and essential oils, his entire morning had been entirely futile!
Life… is so hard.
…
Pei Zhen didn’t blame him. Instead, he called him out, and they went to a restaurant in the city for a steak dinner.
After they finished eating, Pei Zhen pulled him along. “Let me take you somewhere.”
The road was lined with beautiful, upright magnolia and poplar trees. This street had been newly developed as part of the municipal planning, adorned with newly installed, modern streetlights, creating a very clean and elegant atmosphere.
“Not far up ahead is my storage warehouse,” Pei Zhen said, smiling as they waited at a red light. His thumb smoothed over the Little Wolfdog’s brow, which had been furrowed in worry the whole way. “Let me take you there first to pick out a bottle.”
Han Fu: “A bottle?”
“Mm. Since this perfume is going to be released and sold in just a week, having beautiful packaging is crucial for the product too, isn’t it?”
“And besides, maybe seeing a bottle you truly adore could spark some inspiration.”
“…”
Han Fu had always felt that when his Zhenzhen was in a good mood, he was quite tender.
But today was the first time he’d been so thoroughly overwhelmed, swept off his feet by this mature, encompassing tolerance.
Zhenzhen was so good. After they met and he saw how deflated Han Fu looked, he didn’t even ask him about his fragrance blending that morning.
He only focused on solving his problems, on helping him pick out a beautiful bottle. Actually, when he thought about it, given the frantic one-week deadline, the only thing Han Fu could possibly do was immerse himself in blending the scent. As for all the related operations—packaging, promotion, distribution—wouldn’t they all still fall on Pei Zhen?
He was so lucky to have a boyfriend like this supporting him from behind. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have been utterly and completely set up by Lister?
…
The warehouse was routinely guarded and cleaned by dedicated staff. Row after row of various essential oils and glass bottles were stored with impeccable tidiness and cleanliness.
Han Fu was dazzled by the sheer volume of exquisitely designed perfume bottles.
There were elegant matte black bottles with metallic typography, adorable glass macaron collections, designs shaped like black-and-white Holstein cows, minimalist concepts, and others shaped like amphorae with the gracefully curving waistlines of a maiden…
And indeed, every single one sparked some inspiration! Like, a sweet milk scent could be great! A floral-fruity girlish fragrance was always a classic, foolproof path. Or maybe a minimalist, androgynous style could make a surprise breakout? Or how about creating a men’s fragrance that high school and university girls could buy as a gift for their boyfriends?
“…”
Han Fu spent over half an hour browsing before finally concluding: “Zhenzhen, I’ve gone completely cross-eyed.”
Pei Zhen: I knew it.
“Actually,” he suddenly gave a light cough, as if trying to cover something up, “back when I was running Pei, there was a fragrance I had planned to release… but I never got the chance.”
“For that fragrance, I had specially ordered a batch of very beautiful bottles. They’ve been sitting in the warehouse gathering dust for years now.”
“It might not be to your taste, but what I can guarantee is that they cost more than any of the bottles here. Why don’t you come take a look at them too? If you happen to like them…”
Han Fu stood up.
He could clearly sense that these bottles had a story behind them.
The more Pei Zhen tried to sound casual, the more intensely Han Fu could feel the deep-seated regret hidden within that phrase—”never got the chance.”
That particular storage room was at the very back. As Pei Zhen walked towards it, the dappled interplay of light and shadow from the roof fell upon him, carving the contours of his profile into sharp relief. Where his eyes were lowered, there lay a faint shadow.
Suddenly, Han Fu had an overwhelming urge to hold him.
To tell him, “It’s okay,” and to gently knead that comfort into his very bones.
Then again, maybe he was being presumptuous, maybe his feelings were running a bit too intense.
The bottles Pei Zhen spoke of were each kept inside perfectly minimalist, small silver-grey square boxes. As Han Fu opened one, Pei Zhen warned: “Be careful, don’t shake it.”
No wonder he’d warned him not to shake. Inside each box was a frosted, prismatic heart-shaped bottle made with an Austrian Crystal interlayer. Scattered around it were layers of gold foil. As the bottle was lifted out, a few tiny flecks drifted to the floor, glittering brilliantly under the lights.
Seeing Han Fu’s puzzled look, Pei Zhen explained: “This gold foil is meant to be placed into the perfume later. It’ll float in the liquid, making it shimmer and shine. Don’t worry, gold is very stable, chemically—it won’t affect the fragrance.”
Han Fu nodded, holding the bottle up to the light. Its design was truly incredibly intricate, every detail and every angle remarkably exquisite.
Pei Zhen coughed again. “If you don’t like it, don’t force yourself. The factory has plenty of other designs.”
How could he possibly not like it!
“I absolutely love it. But… can I really use this? This is my first attempt. What if I don’t do it justice—wouldn’t I ruin such a perfect design?”
He felt like he probably would mess it up.
Pei Zhen had held onto these stunning bottles and this beautiful gold foil for two full years while running his contract factory, yet he had never once used them. It was clear he wanted to reserve this exceptionally classic design for some special fragrance, some special occasion.
It needed to be a perfume so perfect, so magnificent, that it would truly harmonize with such a bottle.
But Pei Zhen shook his head. “You won’t. Letting you bottle your very first creation in this… it was always the most suitable choice.”
“This way, someday, when people ask perfumer Han Fu about his debut work, you can bring this out with special pride. Just the sight of the bottle design alone will probably make them feel they’ve already lost.”
Han Fu: “Haha.”
Truly, every single day, this man made him fall even more hopelessly, head-over-heels in love.
At the same time, it inevitably piled on the pressure. “You’ve helped me with everything else. The only thing left for me to do is to blend a good perfume.”
Pei Zhen had already executed everything else flawlessly. So…
“If it doesn’t sell one thousand bottles, I’ll have no one to blame but myself.”
“Don’t worry,” Pei Zhen smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Then, quite naturally, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss just behind Han Fu’s ear. “That won’t happen.”
Han Fu: “…”
Pei Zhen: “…” Wait, what did I just do?
