Her Pheromones Smell Like Sparkling Water (GL) - Chapter 28

A single dark cloud drifted in from who knows where, casting a thin shadow over the once-clear sky. It slipped in front of the sun, dimming the light outside. Though it was only three in the afternoon, the whole room already felt like it was cloaked in gray.

Shang Ranzhu’s management team arrived earlier than Shen Tingjun’s. Chen Ming led her group of assistants and staff in front of Shen Tingjun, but Shen’s instincts told her that if this situation was left entirely in their hands, it would end in disaster.

“Have you figured out who leaked it?” Shen Tingjun asked.

A young girl with a bob cut pulled out her phone and read from it: “It was Yaohua Film Company, a local company with a lot of influence around here.”

Shen Tingjun nodded slightly. “And then?”

“Well…” The team exchanged awkward glances—no one had anything to say.

Chen Ming braced herself and replied, “It’s only been half an hour. Could we please have a little more time to investigate further?

“Only been? It’s already been half an hour,” Shen Tingjun’s tone sharpened—a rare sign of her frustration. Negative news like this could be fatal to any celebrity’s career. A management team that sat by helplessly was no different from watching their artist wither in slow motion.

“Start digging right now. Use every connection you have to figure out what they want and what they’re holding back. I’ll give you another thirty minutes,” Shen Tingjun said firmly.

Shang Ranzhu didn’t fully grasp how critical the situation was. Seeing Chen Ming’s tightly knit brows, she tugged gently on Shen Tingjun’s sleeve. “Isn’t thirty minutes a little too rushed?”

Just as Shen Tingjun opened her mouth to scold her, Shen Nianlan walked over holding her phone. “Excuse me, miss, is this your first day in showbiz? Are you aware that in this industry, time is closely linked to reputation? Look here—even though the trending post is being suppressed, the tag is still slowly climbing.”

“Isn’t it fine as long as it’s pushed down?” Shang Ranzhu asked, her usually sharp eyes filled with naive confusion.

Shen Nianlan rubbed her forehead helplessly. “Now I finally understand why that interview you gave last year ended up blowing up so badly. Your agency really is useless.”

Shen Tingjun sighed. Shen Nianlan wasn’t wrong—Shang Ranzhu’s current agency was just plain unreliable. They’d never managed an artist who shot to fame like her, and they had no idea how to deal with an all-out smear campaign. They were letting the rumors spread unchecked and expecting the artist to fend for herself.

*****

In winter, daylight faded quickly. No one in the room had paid attention to how dark it had gotten until Andy arrived with his team and pushed open the door. By then, the room was barely lit.

“Sorry I’m late,” Andy said, flipping on the light switch as he walked in. The soft lighting wasn’t harsh—Shen Tingjun only blinked once before her eyes adjusted. But the sudden brightness caught Shang Ranzhu, who had been staring at her phone the entire time, causing her to rub her eyes several times.

“Have a seat,” Shen Tingjun said, gesturing.

“Thanks.” Andy nodded politely and, with his usual clean and sharp presence, sat down beside Shen Tingjun. She pulled his phone from his bag and reported, “After Tingjun told me, I looked into it. You probably know by now—it was Yaohua Film. They’re not that powerful overall, but they’re clearly retaliating over what happened with Miss Shang the other day. That company has a lot of dirt, and I’ve already arranged for someone to apply pressure on it.”

“But they’re not just targeting Miss Shang. They also bought a bunch of press to go after our company. Most likely, this is due to Xingchen taking over as Moonlight’s investor. We’ve already suppressed those articles. One more thing—I found out Yaohua is just a subsidiary. There are several shell companies above them. We still need more time to figure out who’s really backing them.”

When Andy finished, Shen Tingjun gave an approving nod. Chen Ming, meanwhile, looked completely stunned and full of admiration. She had no idea who Andy really was, but in just an hour, he’d not only tracked down the rival party but also almost fully mapped out their position. Compared to her own team—running around like headless chickens—she felt utterly useless.

At that moment, Chen Ming’s phone alarm sounded, accompanied by a loud, chaotic jazz tune. In the tense atmosphere, the sudden sound startled everyone. Flustered, Chen Ming scrambled to pull her vibrating phone out of her pocket like it was on fire and quickly shut it off.

She’d set the alarm to remind Shang Ranzhu of her night shoot.

“Sorry… um… It’s time for Zhuzi to head to set,” Chen Ming said, her head drooping as she mumbled the reminder.

“Tonight’s her first scene with Tingjun, right?” Andy asked.

“Mhm,” Chen Ming murmured, nodding.

“Alright then. Tingjun and Miss Shang, head to the set first,” Andy instructed. “Chen Ming, you’ll stay and help me handle this. You’re going to face things like this again in the future—don’t let it get you down. Learn from it.”

Andy gently placed a hand on Chen Ming’s back in a comforting gesture. That simple touch brought warmth to Chen Ming’s heart. She felt like a little truck that had just refueled—recharged and full of confidence. Looking at Andy with newfound energy, she said, “Thank you, Andy.”

“Shall we go?” Shen Tingjun turned to Shang Ranzhu.

Ranzhu seemed distracted. For some reason, it suddenly felt like there was a distance—an invisible gap—between her and Shen Tingjun, making her feel strangely unfamiliar.

“Hm?” Shen Tingjun gave a soft hum, glancing at her.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Ranzhu quickly stood up and nodded, “Okay.”

“You’re heading to set already? I’m coming too!” Shen Nianlan piped up cheerfully, squeezing herself between the two and linking arms—one on each side.

Shen Tingjun gently reminded her, “Did you finish your handover with the company?”

“Uh… no. I came straight here to find you,” Nianlan admitted, her voice trailing off guiltily.

“Then go handle that first. You can come later,” Shen Tingjun said as she unlinked her arm.

“Jiejie~” Nianlan whined, reaching to wrap her arms around Shen Tingjun’s neck in a hug.

However, Shang Ranzhu refused to give up. She quickly pulled Nianlan’s arm back to her own side and effortlessly tugged the younger girl to her. Then, without hesitation, she boldly stepped in beside Shen Tingjun. “Go take care of your work now. Jiejie’s mine for the moment.”

“Jiejie!” Nianlan stomped her foot in frustration. Shen Tingjun only lowered her head and laughed softly before naturally linking arms with Shang Ranzhu. “Let’s go.”

Huh?

Shang Ranzhu stared at the arm Shen Tingjun had slipped around hers. Even though their sleeves separated their skin, she could still feel her warmth… and smell her faint scent.

Ranzhu had experienced casual physical contact before, even with Chen Ming—it was nothing new. It was just a normal closeness between friends.

But this time, maybe because her own feelings were anything but normal, it all felt different. Her heart trembled wildly, like that of a deer caught in the unexpected.

From the suite to the elevator, then to the lobby, it took less than ten minutes. But to Shang Ranzhu, it felt like she’d walked ten years. She’d never acted like such a sneak before—stealing glances at someone like a thief. Even a simple turn of the head from Shen Tingjun made her panic and shift her gaze, trying to act like she hadn’t been looking.

“Still holding on?” Shen Tingjun’s voice rang softly beside her ear. 

Only then did Shang Ranzhu realize that she had been so focused on Shen Tingjun that she had forgotten to let go of her sleeve.

Her carefully masked glances had been completely betrayed by her subconscious.

“Sorry,” Ranzhu said quickly. She let go and subtly moved a bit farther away as they approached the door, walking closer to her assistant instead.

Shen Tingjun clearly noticed the blush on Ranzhu’s cheeks, as well as the corner of her lips curving up ever so slightly in a hidden smile.

The two of them arrived at the set in separate vans. After a brief chat with Director Xu Yiren, they each went to change into their costume.

Ranzhu’s outfit was a simple Republican-era servant uniform: a loose long-sleeved top with wide cuffs, paired with cropped coarse-fabric pants. The entire look was a muted mix of grey and black, with the only touch of color being the red ribbon she used to tie her hair. Her thick braid swung neatly behind her head. Though her face was dusted with makeup to appear grimy, it couldn’t hide her natural fairness.

Under Xu Yiren’s eyes, she perfectly captured the hidden depths of the character Chun Ming’s disguise.

When the shoot began, Shang Ranzhu, embodying the humility of a servant, gently pushed open the door to the room where Shen Tingjun’s character, Gong Li, resided. The room was dark—no lights were on. Only a faint moonlight spilled in from the small balcony, barely illuminating the space.

Carefully making her way across the dim room, Ranzhu still accidentally knocked over something on the dressing table. Xu Yiren didn’t call “cut,” so she rolled with it, improvising. Her frostbitten-makeup-covered hands caught the small perfume bottle just before it hit the floor, trembling as she placed it back.

Perhaps it was curiosity that made her reach again. Her cracked fingers hovered just inches away from the delicate crystal bottle. The way it caught the moonlight gave it a cold glow, almost as if warning the unworthy servant to stay away. Ranzhu’s hand paused in the air, hesitant to touch it, her eyes filled not just with longing but something deeper—nostalgia.

Maybe Chun Ming had once owned such a thing. Maybe she was remembering her past.

Whatever it was, that single look left the viewers behind the monitor with lingering questions.

Xu Yiren kept nodding, clearly impressed.

Still, Chun Ming never touched the perfume. She was a servant—she had a role to play. She had to restrain herself.

The balcony doors were open. Wind rustled the yellowed curtains, and a shadowy figure was cast across them.

Shen Tingjun stood in a simple white cheongsam, her figure perfectly accentuated by its design. Leaning gently against the stone railing, she let the moonlight pour down over her. Her skin was whiter and more flawless than even the carved stone beneath her fingertips—pure and luminous.

No one knew what thoughts were running through her head. Her eyes were downcast, and her gaze was drifting somewhere across the vast estate. Perhaps sensing Shang Ranzhu’s presence, she flicked the cigarette in her fingers and lazily cast her eyes toward her, as if it were just a casual glance.

Ranzhu’s throat tightened. She had to hide her momentary daze at the breathtaking sight. Suppressing the stirring in her chest, she called softly, “Miss.”

Shen Tingjun leaned lightly against the railing; a faint smile was playing at her lips. She gestured with her finger, “Come. Dance with me.”