Her Pheromones Smell Like Sparkling Water (GL) - Chapter 24

When Shang Ranzhu heard Xu Yiren’s words, she froze on the spot. Slowly, she turned her head to look at his phone screen—and saw a flood of pink hearts and endless “*kdl” comments filling the entire chat.

(kdl (ke dao le) is ‘net slang for “I just saw / heard / read something cryptic that proves how sweet-in-love my ship is, omfg!”)

“What do you mean, ‘shipping’? Don’t say stuff like that; Ms. Shen will get mad!” Shang Ranzhu stared at the comment section, flustered and scrambling to explain. Her panicked reaction only made her look more suspicious.

“Ms. Shen and I are just really good friends! A firm bond of pure socialist sisterhood!”

Although Chen Ming loved seeing actual interaction between the people being shipped, she knew this situation wasn’t great for Shang Ranzhu. Worried she might dig herself into a deeper hole, Chen Ming quickly tugged at Xu Yiren’s sleeve and nudged him to switch interviewees.

Xu Yiren immediately grasped the hint and quickly steered his camera towards Chen Qiangwei, who was not far away.
“Alright, let’s go check out what our screenwriter Ms. Chen is up to.”

“I think you’re about to hit the trending list,” Chen Ming muttered, pressing her palm to her forehead as she leaned toward Shang Ranzhu.

“Was I that obvious?” Shang Ranzhu sighed and leaned her head on Chen Ming’s shoulder, her mind swimming with phrases like “kdl,” “This is the ultimate double-Alpha forbidden romance!”, and “If anyone says ShenShang isn’t real, I’ll eat my keyboard.”

“You know what they say,” Chen Ming glanced sideways at her and said,
“When you love someone, even if you don’t say it out loud, it shows in your eyes.”

It made way too much sense. Shang Ranzhu glared at her, speechless, unable to come up with a single rebuttal.

She could only hope that Shen Tingjun, who was still recovering in the hospital, hadn’t seen that livestream.

However, life often contradicts our expectations.

Under a cloudless blue sky, sunlight poured into Shen Tingjun’s hospital room, warming her bare face. After resting for the night, her condition had improved significantly. Her pale complexion had regained its glow, and her skin looked as flawless as when she wore makeup. Only the faint dark circles under her eyes hinted that she still hadn’t fully recovered.

Relaxed and comfortable, Shen Tingjun leaned back against a soft pillow, holding a tablet in her hands. From the moment the opening ceremony started, she had been watching the livestream Xu Yiren insisted she tune in to.

Xu Yiren’s filming skills were… honestly terrible. He just stood there stiffly with a selfie stick, no stabilizer at all. The comment section was filled with complaints, and even Shen Tingjun couldn’t help but type, “Your camera is shaking so much—I’m tempted to start a crowdfund for a stabilizer for the director.”

The mockery only began to die down once Xu Yiren started interviewing the cast. Despite his shaky hands, his actual camera work was excellent—he made every actor look great and distinct on screen.

As the camera panned through the crowd, it finally locked onto Shang Ranzhu, who was standing in front of the incense burner. Somehow, Xu Yiren managed to blur out the background, making Shang Ranzhu the only sharply focused figure in the frame. She stood tall; her posture was straight and proud. With one hand in her coat pocket, the pale skin of her wrist peeked out. Then she turned slightly toward the camera—cool, radiant, her bold brows and red lips so striking that for a moment, she looked like a spring beauty from another era, having crossed time to appear in this scene.

When Shang Ranzhu said, “I want to pray for my Ms. Shen’s safety too,” Shen Tingjun clicked her tongue and chuckled aloud.

The comment section instantly lit up again with another wave of *“kdl”*s and even some floating pink chocolate gifts.

Her assistant, who had just returned with a fruit platter, saw her smiling and asked curiously,
“Ms. Shen, what are you laughing at?”

Shen Tingjun pointed to the screen, where Shang Ranzhu was still visible.
“This little dummy… how can she be so silly?”

The assistant paused. She’d been with Shen Tingjun for a considerable amount of time, and she was aware that typically, when anyone attempted to approach her or even suggested a CP (couple pairing), Shen Tingjun’s expression would quickly turn cold. But today, not only was she smiling—she was actually laughing?

“Hey, Xiao Yu,” Shen Tingjun asked, her eyes still on the screen. “I saw some people saying ‘ShenShang’ and others saying ‘ShangShen.’ Is there a difference?”

The assistant quickly leaned in beside her. At this point, Xu Yiren’s camera had moved on, but the comment section was still blowing up with people demanding to see Shang Ranzhu again. The assistant scrolled up and down—her brain nearly melted from seeing “Shen” and “Shang” repeated so many times. People were even arguing over who’s on top.

Pushing up her black-rimmed glasses, she struggled to think of how to explain this mess to her usually aloof and elegant Ms. Shen.

After a long moment, and under Shen Tingjun’s expectant gaze, she finally spoke.

“Well, generally speaking… the one whose name comes first is the…” She paused, considering that both of them were Alphas, then subtly held up one finger and said delicately,
“…the top.”

“Oh.” Shen Tingjun pretended to think it over, but her calm face was visibly shadowed by a dark expression. She flipped the tablet over onto the bed and flopped back with a small, sulky pout.

The assistant scrambled to catch the tablet before it fell, letting out a shaky breath—both nervous and oddly relieved.

“…Xiao Yu,” Shen Tingjun called again.

The assistant, still placing the tablet back down, responded, “Yes, Ms. Shen?”

“What do you think? ShenShang or ShangShen?”

Her hands froze mid-motion.

Xiao Yu slowly turned to face Shen Tingjun, who was giving her a very gentle smile.

She had always preferred ShangShen. Just thinking about the image of cold and restrained Ms. Shen being relentlessly pursued by a younger Alpha brought tears to the corners of her eyes—it made her feel so excited.

She adored watching beautiful people cry. Did Shen Tingjun’s debut film have a crying scene? She could still replay it in her head up to this day.

She wondered if anyone had made an edit of their CP moments…

But Shen Tingjun was still looking at her, clearly expecting an answer. When she didn’t reply, her voice grew colder.
“Xiao Yu?”

“Sorry, Ms. Shen!” The assistant snapped back to attention at once. Seeing Shen Tingjun’s icy gaze, she panicked.

Shang Ranzhu is an Alpha. Ms. Shen is an Alpha, too.
If she said “ShangShen,” she would likely lose her job immediately.

“Of course it’s ShenShang!” She lied with a straight face. “You’re clearly the strong, cool Alpha type!”

Shen Tingjun looked pleased. She nodded and waved her over.
“Give me the fruit plate.”

The assistant let out a huge sigh of relief, like a burden had finally been lifted. She carefully stuck toothpicks into the freshly cut fruit, pulled over the small table beside the hospital bed, and set everything in place for Shen Tingjun.

The room quickly returned to its usual calm. The assistant worked quietly on the couch while Shen Tingjun, now with her earphones in, picked at her fruit and watched a few old Republican-era films, trying to get a feel for Gong Li’s vibe.

The clock hands slowly crept from 10 to 4. A soft gloom settled into the room with the late afternoon light. Outside, the sound of high heels clicking against the hallway floor echoed closer and closer.

Soon, a slender shadow cast itself across the door to Shen Tingjun’s room.

The person only knocked twice before pushing the door open without waiting for a response.

Chen Qiangwei stepped in, wearing a deep purple dress. Even with nude tights on, her legs looked slender and straight. Draped over one wrist was the same ivory coat she’d worn during Xu Yiren’s livestream. Under a thick cascade of black waves, her dark eyes sparkled as she looked straight at Shen Tingjun.

A warm smile curved her red-painted lips. “Tingjun, I’m here.”

Stunned, the assistant momentarily forgot to stand up.

She had completely forgotten that Shen Tingjun also had an original character pairing, which was with Chen Qiangwei.

“Weren’t you just on Xu Yiren’s stream a few hours ago?” Shen Tingjun asked as she removed her earphones and set them aside. She looked a little surprised by the sudden visit and instinctively buttoned up the collar of her hospital gown.

Meanwhile, the assistant hurried to bring over a chair and set it next to the bed for Chen Qiangwei. But Chen simply waved it off and, without hesitation, sat directly beside Shen Tingjun on the bed.
“You’re in the hospital. How could I feel okay staying at the opening ceremony any longer?”

Shen Tingjun glanced at the chair the assistant had quietly pushed back to the wall and smiled faintly. “It’s nothing serious. Just exhaustion.”

“Are you sure it’s not because of that Shang Ranzhu? She seems like a handful. You were never like this before,” Chen Qiangwei asked quickly.

“It’s not her,” Shen Tingjun replied firmly.

“But she stirred up trouble again during the livestream, did you know? Did Andy tell you?” Chen Qiangwei’s expression twisted slightly in disdain as she spoke.

“I saw it,” Shen Tingjun said flatly.

Chen Qiangwei frowned at her calm response, clearly frustrated. “Don’t worry too much. I heard the investors are planning to replace Shang Ranzhu.”

That made Shen Tingjun’s already tired expression darken. Her brows knit tightly. “What? Who told you that?”

“Old Xu. He’s been worrying about it too and didn’t know whether to bring it up with you.”

“Why do they want to replace her?” Shen Tingjun asked, confused.

Chen Qiangwei didn’t bother sugarcoating it. “She beat up one of the investor’s relatives in the prop room yesterday morning and knocked out his teeth.”

Shen Tingjun’s expression stiffened. She had completely forgotten about that. So that guy kicking the door down that day was the investor’s younger brother? And Shang Ranzhu actually beat him? No wonder she had bandages on her forehead and hand.

She hadn’t even noticed it.

Noticing that Shen Tingjun looked somewhat sad, Chen Qiangwei gently took her hand and added with a little dramatic flair, “There’s really no reason for us to keep someone like her around.”

Shen Tingjun didn’t like the sound of that. Shang Ranzhu had only fought back to protect her. No matter what the consequences were, they shouldn’t fall on her shoulders.

“Qiangwei,” Shen Tingjun said seriously, “Let’s be honest—isn’t Shang Ranzhu the best choice to play Chun Ming?”

“…She is,” Chen Qiangwei muttered reluctantly. She really didn’t like Shang Ranzhu, but she couldn’t deny it—only she could truly bring the character of Chen Chun Ming to life.

Shen Tingjun gently squeezed her hand. “Then let’s keep her.”

“But the investors are serious. They said if we don’t replace her, they’ll pull out,” Chen Qiangwei said, clearly worried.

“As long as I’m here, no one’s replacing Shang Ranzhu,” Shen Tingjun said, her voice firmer than even the investors’.

For some reason, jealousy flared in Chen Qiangwei’s heart. She looked at Shen Tingjun, sensing something had changed—but couldn’t quite pinpoint what.

Following a brief pause, Shen Tingjun appeared to reach a decision.
“If it really comes to that, we’ll just change investors. You and Old Xu focus on holding your ground. Moonlight is our collective effort—we can’t let it fall apart.”

Hearing that, Chen Qiangwei finally relaxed a little. She knew she couldn’t let Shang Ranzhu get between her and Shen Tingjun, not when she valued their current relationship so much. In fact, she was hoping that through this project, they might even grow closer.

“…Alright, I understand.”

Seeing that she was convinced, Shen Tingjun subtly withdrew her hand and pulled the blanket up slightly, using the motion to gently increase the distance between them.

Chen Qiangwei’s hand hung awkwardly in the air. She glanced bitterly at Shen Tingjun’s pale, elegant fingers. All she wanted was to hold onto that hand and never let go.

The setting sun cast its last golden light into the room.

Chen Qiangwei pursed her lips and asked softly, 

“Tingjun… Can I stay the night and take care of you?”