Pei was the name of the affordable luxury perfume brand Pei Zhen had founded a few years ago.
Many foreign perfumers were used to the convention of “brand name = designer name,” so they called him simply “Pei.” Coincidentally, his surname really was Pei. No difference there.
In the still air, the mixed-blood youth and Pei Zhen locked eyes, sparks flying in the empty space between them.
Most people wouldn’t immediately recognize those sparks as hostile flames; they’d just feel a powerful electric current. Han Fu bristled in an instant, his possessiveness flaring as he transformed into an oversized octopus, hugging the man even tighter.
The mixed-blood youth ignored his existence entirely, merely observing Pei Zhen with a faint, mocking smile. “It’s been four years, Pei. I didn’t expect… you’re still alive, huh?”
Wait a minute—what did he just say?
A breeze swirled peach blossoms past. Han Fu thought he must have misheard.
A closer look told him he hadn’t misheard at all! The youth’s eyes were blatantly full of provocation, and he was looking at Pei Zhen’s legs with deep meaning!
If he hadn’t been yanked back, Han Fu would already have been beating the crap out of this guy a dozen centimeters shorter than him.
This fake foreigner! He obviously knew that Pei Zhen’s left leg had been broken before, that it had suffered a serious injury!
…
Pei Zhen’s leg was fine on mild, sunny days. If you didn’t look carefully, you wouldn’t even notice the slight delay in his gait.
But once the weather turned rainy, it would hurt terribly.
In the month they’d been together, it had only rained once.
Yet that single time was enough to leave Han Fu utterly drained, wrecked, questioning his whole life. He still dared not think about having to go through a second or third time. Every day he secretly hung that grinning little hanging-ghost weather doll outside the glasshouse.
And now this person standing here actually had a schadenfreude face?!
If this wasn’t asking for a beating, then what was it! What!
…
In Pei Zhen’s eyes, that bellyful of anger and those tightening arms were undoubtedly just overflowing affection and heartache.
…Whether they truly were or not, as long as they looked like it, that was enough.
Humans are such contradictory creatures. They often doubt themselves, doubt their lives, yet when nourished by little sweet moments, they can always generate the devastating energy of a nuclear fusion.
Pei Zhen had once been famous for his sharp tongue.
Though age had smoothed his temperament and blunted his edge considerably, handling this little mixed-blood should still be more than enough.
Coolly, he smoothed his wolf-dog’s fur, then turned to Lister with a perfectly amiable smile. “Yes, it really has been a long time. I remember that time I saw you in France, you were only fifteen, still a little runt.”
He paused briefly there. “Speaking of which, have you not grown a centimeter since?”
Lister: “…”
“You even seem fatter. Has the catering at Cranberry been that good these past few years?”
Lister: “…”
“You should be careful. I’ve heard that many mixed-blood people are prone to baldness and easy weight gain in adulthood. Doesn’t your family’s old grandfather have Russian blood on his side? Don’t end up blowing up like a balloon, out of control. I’m saying all this for your own good. Don’t refuse to listen.”
Lister: You’re talking nonsense!
Several days later, early morning.
The mixed-blood youth in a baseball cap and jeans leaned against the academy’s cyan stone gate.
With his flawless, 360-degree-no-blind-spot looks, Lister’s popularity was almost on par with second-tier male celebrities. Whenever the internet compiled posts of handsome men, his photos always contributed to the hit rate. Many people knew who he was.
Just standing there, many passing students would unconsciously slow down and secretly raise their phones to snap pictures.
Lister didn’t care.
Only during a lull, he saw a black Land Rover slowly enter the distant parking lot, and a cold light flashed in his deep blue eyes.
Since childhood, he’d grown accustomed to surpassing everyone in both looks and talent. That day, being dissed as short by an old enemy? Absolutely intolerable.
In the end, before he could organize his words to retaliate with “you’re unsociable, crippled, and have a mountain of dark history,” the other party had started their car and fled with a puff of exhaust smoke first?!
No way! He had to reclaim the field!
…
Pei Zhen ignored the large living person at the gate, took hold of his Doggo’s sleeve, and strode straight inside.
Lister blocked him with a cold laugh.
“Someone like you wouldn’t think that just by taking on an apprentice, you could change your image and step onto the road to whitewashing, right?”
Pei Zhen: “…”
Lister: “Using every means possible for profit, using ‘Gas Opium’ and getting banned and expelled by the Library. A traitor to the industry like you—do you still have the qualifications to set foot in a clean and pure academy of perfumery?”
The moment those words fell, the surroundings erupted in uproar.
“Gas Opium?”
“Is that the huge scandal from before…”
“It’s Pei? The perfumer for that brand I used to especially love? The perfumer himself?”
…
The “Gas Opium” in Lister’s mouth referred to a plant called “Bamboo Millet” that only grew in a few regions of Yunnan.
Years ago, the last time Pei Zhen traveled with Yi Changqing, their destination had been Yunnan.
While lodging at a herdsman’s house, they had stumbled upon this small plant that looked like unripe berries. Because he liked its unique fragrance, he brought it home to plant and cultivate, then attempted to extract its essential oil and make perfume.
Never did he imagine that such a tiny plant would bring him such immense calamity.
That year, Pei Zhen’s perfume had been selected as third place in the Library’s “Annual Top Ten” and was on the verge of being inducted into the “Library Hall of Fame,” achieving both fame and success. Yet overnight, the main ingredient, Bamboo Millet, was analyzed by the laboratory and suspected of containing addictive components harmful to human health.
“A new type of narcotic,” “Gas Opium”… rumors flew everywhere.
Truthfully, to this day, the lab still hasn’t issued a final conclusion.
But that no longer mattered.
Bamboo Millet essential oil was swiftly banned internationally. He was publicly condemned as profit-driven and unscrupulous. Through a flurry of frenzied sensationalist reports and verbal and written denunciations, both he and the brand under his name were utterly disgraced.
And that year, the fourth place of the “Annual Top Ten” had been Lister. (The top three were inducted into the Hall of Fame.)
After the “Library Hall of Fame” revoked Pei Zhen’s award, the Library had wanted to elevate Lister’s work to fill the vacancy, but the youth flatly refused.
[To fill the gap left by a shameless scoundrel like that—who’d deign to do it?]
…
To this day, Pei Zhen could no longer be bothered to explain the matter that back then had left him with a hundred mouths and no defense.
After suffering betrayal when everyone kicked a man who was down, he had long since stopped caring about other people’s gazes, gossip, face, or inner substance.
But he would never, ever allow anyone to try to block Han Fu’s path.
That was his treasure, his star of tomorrow that he would achieve no matter what, and no one was allowed to touch.
“You,” he turned, looking coldly at the mixed-blood youth, “if you want to target me, I’ll accompany you anytime, but there’s no need to drag in unrelated people, is there? He’s merely a fragrance enthusiast with a clean record, paid his tuition to attend class. Has he committed a crime against you?”
Lister laughed. “Clean? Following an industry cancer like you, becoming his apprentice, is walking down crooked evil paths! How can he possibly be clean?”
Pei Zhen: “Sorry to disappoint you, but he is not my apprentice.”
Lister: “Ha, too scared to admit it, huh? If he’s not your apprentice, why does he follow you around every single day?!”
“…”
Han Fu stepped forward and casually slung himself onto someone’s shoulder. “Because Zhenzhen is my most, most important boyfriend.”
Lister: “…”
The crowd: “…”
“Caw,” “Caw.” Two black crows flew over the academy sky.
The silence made Han Fu a bit depressed. “What, is this not something that’s really easy to see? We two are obviously well-matched, right? Aren’t we?”
As he spoke, he even grabbed an innocent bun-faced youth nearby.
“Hey, I’m asking you—he and I, we look like a couple no matter how you look at it, right?”
Youth: “…Yes, yes?”
“See! Any clear-eyed person can tell!”
“…”
“As for me, right now I’m Zhenzhen’s boyfriend, and in the future I’ll be the chief perfumer of his company. And you, you shrimpy little short-legged brat…”
He poked him with just enough force to make Lister stumble back a step. “Can’t even speak Chinese properly, yet here you are blabbering nonsense. If you keep picking a fight, I’ll really ignore international friendship and beat you up, got it?”
“Speaking of which, Zhenzhen, this brat was your defeated underling before, right?”
“Is he worried that our future company is going to destroy his family’s Cranberry, so he’s laying in ambush at dawn desperately trying to stop me from going to class?”
Lister: “?!?!”
“Ah, Cranberry these past few years, their perfume and cosmetics have really been declining. They’ve been left tens of blocks behind by Belle and Les étoiles, surviving entirely off selling ridiculously expensive clothes and bags…”
Lister: You—you—you! Duel!
Pei Zhen: “Pfft… cough, cough.”
He kind of felt that recently, maintaining the embittered, ice-cold CEO persona… seemed to be getting harder and harder.
