Pei Zhen had originally been holding back a raging fire of fury.
In a public competition, to dare pull such a blatant act of sabotage. Yi Changqing now was truly arrogant, completely laughable in his recklessness.
He wouldn’t admit it, didn’t want to admit it, but there was another, more embarrassing reason he was so agitated.
That day, when he went to the Ruijing Hotel to find Yi Changqing, Yi Changqing had said Grasse’s sabotage wasn’t his doing.
When he said it, his attitude seemed quite sincere. So much so that Pei Zhen, though verbally scoffing at him later, had actually believed him about seventy to eighty percent in his heart.
…Believed him, my ass.
He really was regressing. Whatever happened to “once bitten, twice shy”? All that wisdom gone out the window? To once again, after so many years, try to believe in the “innocence” of someone who had betrayed him when he was at his most difficult?
…Those old, messy accounts from back then, Pei Zhen had no intention of revisiting.
He only wanted to give that Yi guy a proper, face-to-face warning. We agreed you’d mind your own business. Don’t act like a brainless idiot and don’t force my hand.
Push me too far, I’m just a small, broke contract factory owner. A man with bare feet doesn’t fear the one wearing shoes.
It would absolutely do you, the great Gold-Medal Perfumer Yi, not a single bit of good.
…
He had clearly prepared himself for battle.
But before he could even see Yi Changqing, his own little wolfdog had chased him down from behind.
Tested and verified: Being comforted by a good-looking young boy with hugs and touches, listening to his soft, coaxing voice—heat-clearing, detoxifying, maximum therapeutic effect.
Pei Zhen had still put up a token struggle or two.
But then he looked up, meeting those beautiful, deep black eyes, and found he couldn’t even struggle anymore.
People truly lose their principles as they age—his heart softened, his body followed suit, and even his sternness melted away.
“Zhenzhen, don’t be mad. A 3 is just a 3. I accept it.”
Han Fu nuzzled against him. “Really, don’t be mad. Anyway, third place today definitely won’t be eliminated. Let him use his dirty tricks if he wants. As long as you don’t go see him, his schemes haven’t succeeded! Come on, let’s head back!”
Pei Zhen: “…”
He could understand the logic of the first half of Han Fu’s statement, but was struggling to digest the second half. While he was still dazed, his body suddenly felt weightless.
Pei Zhen: “Whoa, hey!”
Usually, Han Fu loved hoisting him over his shoulder, but today’s position was a bit different. It was a direct lift-and-carry hold, cradling him like a princess.
It made Pei Zhen’s entire back burn with heat. He smacked Han Fu’s shoulder twice and growled in a low voice, “What are you doing!”
Han Fu looked up, face dead serious. “‘Carrying you away,’ obviously.”
Pei Zhen: “???”
Han Fu: “My baby. I’m carrying him away. So that guy doesn’t get to look at him.”
“…” Pei Zhen suddenly almost forgot what he had come here to do.
All he felt was his heartbeat thundering, so loud he seriously suspected it might echo in the silent corridor. Dating a cute young guy was so damn interesting—getting picked up and carried around at the drop of a hat. Hitting middle age, life suddenly got so thrilling!
His remaining shred of rationality made him remind Han Fu from his perch on his shoulder, “Put me down! What if someone gets this on camera!”
“Don’t worry~” Han Xiaohua, such a delicate little flower, yet possessed an unreasonably immense strength. Carrying him this way, he still walked along swiftly and easily. “I asked. The corridor by the restrooms has no cameras.”
Pei Zhen: “Even if cameras don’t film it, people will still pass by! You should still put—”
His words cut off, stuck in his throat.
Standing at the end of the corridor was a person, half their figure shrouded in shadow, silhouette familiar.
Yi Changqing, who had been waiting for him over there.
…
It was only just a few days ago, when Pei Zhen was doing rounds at the contract factory, that he overheard the factory girls fervently discussing a Korean drama.
The plot was currently reaching its climax. The general story was about a kind, divorced older woman meeting a tall, rich, handsome man. Then, under his makeover, she becomes sophisticated and dazzlingly charming. Currently, hand-in-hand with the man, she was triumphantly flaunting their blissful relationship right in front of her ex-husband.
“…” Although, it wasn’t exactly the same as his current situation.
But in this kind of setting, letting his “ex” see him being carried with such a doting, possessive display…
It was probably quite akin to being an obnoxiously showy, happily-in-love couple after all.
Yi Changqing’s gaze was icy.
The undisguised scorn and contempt flickering in his eyes actually made Pei Zhen feel relief. Go ahead, be as displeased as you want. No matter how much you look down on me, isn’t this old man still living well now—wealthy, comfortable, pampered, and cherished?
I stopped caring about you long ago. Surely you don’t still fear I might cling to you? Have you got eyes or not? Don’t you see my doggo here is younger than you, better-looking than you, more talented than you?
Still, every matter had its own place.
“Hey, stop right there.” As they brushed past, he called out to Yi Changqing.
No longer caring about you was one thing. But bullying my doggo? I still can’t let you off for that.
…
“Haven’t seen you in years. It seems Young Master Pei’s tolerance for people has also risen considerably.” Yi Changqing stopped, sneering coldly as he turned back.
His amber eyes swiveled, landing on Han Fu. “If this were a few years ago, daring to butcher Young Master Pei’s perfume like that, you’d have been fired ages ago.”
“And speaking of which, as his ‘secretary,’ just focus on your ‘core duties,’ wouldn’t that suffice? Why overestimate yourself and come to the PA?”
Han Fu had always felt some people were just born begging to be punched.
Too bad, though his hands itched unbearably, he was firmly held down by Pei Zhen. “Yi Changqing, you’d better toe the line. Don’t forget what I told you last time at the Ruijing.”
“If you dare try that same trick again in the next round, I won’t be polite anymore. I mean what I say.”
“Not polite to me…” Yi Changqing slightly lowered his gaze, letting out an amused scoff. “You’ve got the wrong person. That 3 wasn’t from me. Though, I think that score popping up was pretty normal too. Just means one of the judges wasn’t blinded by superficial tricks and saw your guy’s lack of true skill. Right?”
As he spoke, he lifted his eyes with a thin, cold smile. Then, his expression suddenly froze.
“Your eye… what’s wrong with…?”
Pei Zhen was stunned for a moment, slightly frowning.
“Your left eye, the color, how is it…”
Pei Zhen: “…”
He had to be joking, right? His eye had been like this for four whole years.
Although it had happened after Yi Changqing left, still, they’d met at the revolving restaurant once, and again at the Ruijing Hotel. They’d even sat two meters apart for over half an hour. He was only noticing now?
Granted, perfumers made their living with their noses, but their eyesight shouldn’t be this bad.
“Yeah, good-looking, right?” He smiled. “Lots of people say it looks like a Persian cat’s. A purebred, too.”
Because they were so close, he actually didn’t see Yi Changqing silently raise his left hand.
The near field of vision on his left side was precisely Pei Zhen’s visual blind spot. It wasn’t until Han Fu roughly shoved that person away that Pei Zhen realized—just now, Yi Changqing had almost touched his left eye. And not only had he not reacted or dodged, he hadn’t even blinked.
Yi Changqing’s face was filled with shock. “You… can’t see out of your left eye?”
Pei Zhen: “…”
“How did this happen?!”
Han Fu exploded instantly, slamming Yi Changqing against the wall. “Screw your grandpa, you still have the nerve to ask ‘how did this happen’? It was all because of you! If you hadn’t betrayed him and run off to Belle, would his company have collapsed? Would he have been beaten by debt collectors and landed in the hospital? You ran away so damn fast back then, and now you stand here playing the righteous hypocrite?!”
Yi Changqing ignored him, only asking Pei Zhen: “Why didn’t you tell me? How could you never tell me something like this happened!”
Han Fu was about to go berserk. “He should tell you?!”
“Why the hell would he tell you, just so you could gloat? Hey, what exactly are you to him anyway?! You’re nothing, a complete nobody passing by! In four years, did you ever come back, ever care whether he lived or died? Now you’re here pretending to be kind, pretending to be innocent? Is there anyone in the world as shameless as you? Believe me, I’ll strangle you right now!”
…
…
The second round live broadcast scene. The cameras barely showed Yi Changqing.
Many fans in the livestream complained, flooding the chat demanding, “We want to see our Baby Yi!” But they couldn’t show him. The corner of his mouth was cut, his cheek bruised, and his overall state was terrible. The director could only reluctantly give up. How could they explain this to the audience if it aired?
A freaking perfume competition, no wonder… its ratings overseas were so explosive.
They really did have a mentor and contestant group that knew how to stir up drama!
Not only could they do it on camera, but even more so off camera!
And who knew someone could be so ferocious, recklessly getting into a physical fight with a judge right in the corridor!
Luckily, Yi Changqing didn’t press charges.
Otherwise, if this blew up, the black-haired teardrop mole guy would likely be disqualified. That would be tough, because Teardrop Mole was handsome, and the previous round had been so dramatic—exploding high scores followed by that sudden “3”—his online buzz had already gone viral now.
If he were disqualified, there’d be no way to explain it to the masses of fans.
Thank goodness, it was settled peacefully!
…
The second round started, and Zhu Su continued stirring up chaos.
He beckoned Fu Yao over to the nearby essential oil room. Facing the livestream camera, he smilingly announced her “privilege” as the winner of the previous round.
As the only contestant who knew the exact original ingredient formula for the fragrance to be replicated this round, Fu Yao could choose to disclose the formula to half the contestants.
The other half would have to rely solely on their own noses and analysis to attempt replication.
Because the final determination of who went home in each elimination round was based on total points, this choice was actually quite simple—naturally, disclose the ingredients to opponents who posed no threat, and let the real competitors rely on their own skill to guess the ingredients and potentially make mistakes.
“Sorry, can’t give it to you~”
Fu Yao walked past Fatty, shaking her head despite his hundred-fold starry-eyed, prayer-hands act of cuteness.
Walking past Han Fu, she similarly gave only an apologetic smile.
Han Fu’s reaction was different from Fatty’s. His whole being was in a dazed state; his expression didn’t even change.
Later, this segment was endlessly spammed in bullet comments as [So Cool] and [Gaze of a King], but truthfully, Han Fu was just spaced out.
Grabbing the ingredients absentmindedly, his hands trembled so much lighting the alcohol lamp that they shook.
…
Fu Yao’s fragrance, an exquisite magically-modified women’s version of “Vodka Carnival.”
A woody oriental. A fresh sweetness of grapefruit and ginger, middle notes of citrus leaves, base notes of sandalwood, white musk, and guaiac wood.
But all Han Fu could think was—guaiac wood made into a massage balm could effectively relieve arthritis. The smell of one of Pei Zhen’s leg injury ointments was exactly this scent.
Actually, his leg shouldn’t have been left with such severe aftereffects. If only someone had been there to care for him properly back then.
His eye too… if only someone could have protected him.
Yi Changqing was a complete and utter bastard. Fine, he wasn’t there. But what about him back then? He should have had the means, should have…
His fingertip accidentally bumped a test tube. Scalding liquid spilled across the table.
“Han Xiaohua!”
“Han Fu!” Faintly, someone seemed to be calling him softly.
“Get a grip and focus!”
“Han Fu, look at me!”
A jolt, a slight ringing in his ears, and the world returned to its usual clarity.
This round was evidently very difficult. Even Zhu Su didn’t dare to keep roaming the floor looking for contestants to tease. The air in the broadcast hall was stagnant. Everyone around him was working diligently, head-down and fully immersed. Even Fatty couldn’t clown around and show off, but was completely focused, sweat beading on his forehead.
Han Fu looked up. From the audience seats, Pei Zhen wasn’t looking at him sternly, only watching with slight concern.
“You can do it,” their eyes met, his gaze was very gentle. He mouthed the words softly to him.
You can do it.
Han Fu also looked at him. In that instant, all sorts of past events, thoughts, affections, and regrets surged into his heart.
But this was a competition arena, one that permitted no distractions.
Han Fu lowered his head, closed his eyes, and gave himself one minute.
He did nothing else. Just stood there.
Zhenzhen… was the type who strove to look forward. If he wanted to stay by his side forever, he had to be the same. Rather than drowning in regret, it was better to just win the match at hand.
The second round was a total of one hour.
Forty minutes left. Still plenty of time.
…
Once Han Fu concentrated and started working seriously, he quickly got back into the groove—He actually didn’t quite understand why everyone said the second round was so difficult. Where exactly was the difficulty?
Wasn’t it just replicating Fu Yao’s modified fragrance, then improving it?
He pondered briefly, then reduced the guaiac wood content in the original fragrance by almost half. After all, such a highly “Mother Earth”-vibe, slow-evaporating medicinal woody note wasn’t actually highly accepted by average people. He filled the gap with his preferred citrus family.
Everyone loves an orange scent, right? Should be no exceptions?
…
Pei Zhen secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Han Fu had regained his composure. He had to admit, the gap in talent among perfumers was real—Han Fu was a Level Six. Even without Fu Yao giving him the ingredient list, he could easily deconstruct it.
And not only deconstruct the types, but also clearly know the proportions.
He wouldn’t end up like some other contestants, who even with the ingredient list still couldn’t formulate the correct scent and were trapped in a bitter struggle.
The only thing Han Fu had to worry about now was the “balance” of the fragrance during the improvement phase.
Having a preference for citrus wasn’t a bad thing.
Compared to widely beloved scents like rose or jasmine, which could easily cause dizziness after prolonged smelling, citrus was relatively the mildest and safest option.
The second round ended. The entire workstation area was, frankly, a scene of utter devastation.
Many contestants were clearly so dissatisfied with their finished products, they looked ready to weep. Fu Yao, having successfully “tricked” everyone, was perfectly composed.
Once the scores came out, sure enough, many people had stumbled badly, and not just by a little.
The second round results: a sea of 60s, 70s. The gap was instantly huge compared to the first round where the majority scored above 80.
Fu Yao, being the one refining her own perfume, easily scored an 85. Originally only leading Fatty by 0.1 points after the first round, her plan now succeeded, leaving Fatty in the dust by over ten points.
Han Fu was again evaluated very late, and he wasn’t very nervous.
Because even Yi Changqing shouldn’t be so stupid—in a competition judged on skill, if you play dirty tricks too often, besides inciting public outrage and doubt, it has no other effect.
On the screen, his scores for this round slowly popped up.
8.3, 8.5, 8.7…
The final few scores came out exceptionally slowly. The audience began to stir, becoming restless, starting to shout urgingly.
But Han Fu wasn’t impatient. He knew, under such pressure, that “3” would most likely not appear this time.
Who asked him to deliver a stable, high-level performance in both rounds? Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, if you’re going to cheat, you’d better tread carefully.
As expected, the final result was 85.5. Although he placed second overall, Fu Yao hadn’t managed to open an insurmountable gap. Moreover, his single-round score was first in the second round, even 0.5 points higher than Fu Yao’s.
The first day of the elimination rounds officially concluded.
Han Fu could clearly feel that he and Fu Yao were now surrounded by hostile eyes. Maybe they had performed too prominently today; they were being stared down by all sorts of fierce, competitive gazes.
Forget it. Han Fu decided to ignore it for now. He chose to focus purely on enjoying the proud look in Pei Zhen’s eyes for him, plus the big heart made of peppermint essence that Yu Wenzhe was holding up from the side.
…Not only was he not eliminated, he even got second place.
Ah, if only he’d known, he’d have asked for a “reward” or something in advance.
Not too late to ask for it after they got back!
