Her Pheromones Smell Like Sparkling Water (GL) - Chapter 3

Just as Shen Tingjun leaned in. They became so close that her lips were almost touching Shang Ranzhu’s—on the side. Director Xu Yiren clenched his fists in excitement, craning his neck for a better look. Beside him was the screenwriter Chen Qiangwei, who looked grim, and her hand was gripping the armrest tightly.

But the kiss never happened.

Right at the moment there was barely a centimeter between them, Shen Tingjun stopped.

Her deep eyes narrowed slightly, locking onto Shang Ranzhu’s.

Shen Tingjun’s eyes were the color of amber. In the pitch-black room, they normally wouldn’t be visible—but a cool gust of wind stirred the kerosene lamp’s flame, casting light that shimmered across her pupils like golden flecks. That faint glow carried a quiet elegance and a chilling sharpness underneath.

Shang Ranzhu stared into those eyes without blinking, like she might get pulled in completely.

Then she heard it—a soft chuckle by her ear.

Shen Tingjun tilted her lips into a faint smile and whispered gently, “What are you thinking about?”

Her breath brushed against Shang Ranzhu’s ear, laced with the clean scent of pine and bamboo—as if she had purposefully released a trace of her pheromones.

Shang Ranzhu smelled it clearly. She took it as a challenge between Alphas and refused to back down. Her own scent slowly filled the air—sweet, like whipped cream—and her slender arm naturally draped around Shen Tingjun’s neck. She narrowed her eyes flirtatiously. “I was wondering what the color of the slip you’re wearing under your cheongsam is, Miss.”

Shen Tingjun inhaled the sugary scent drifting from Shang Ranzhu and found the situation increasingly interesting. Her hand playfully lifted Shang Ranzhu’s chin. “Take a guess.”

Shang Ranzhu met her amber eyes, still caught in that moment of heat.

But what would Chun Ming do in the face of Gong Li’s provocations?

They were both Alphas. Chun Ming was also a highly trained agent. There was no way she’d just lie down and take it.

So while Shen Tingjun was off guard, Shang Ranzhu placed her hands on her waist and flipped them over, switching positions in one smooth motion.

Caught completely by surprise, Shen Tingjun found herself beneath Shang Ranzhu.

She hadn’t seen that coming. Up until now, she thought she had complete control over the scene—but in just one second, the power had shifted.

Director Xu Yiren was filled with immense joy and excitement. The sparks flying between them—this push and pull was cinematic gold. He cursed not setting up proper cameras in the audition room, regretting that this cheap recording device might not capture the magnetic tension on display.

“If I say I don’t want to guess?” Shang Ranzhu leaned over her, lips curling into a slow, poisonous smile, like a poppy blooming all at once, enticing its prey into madness.

And Shen Tingjun was no exception.

Shang Ranzhu’s scent grew stronger, saturating Shen Tingjun’s senses, sticky sweet and dangerously addictive. Her nape tingled, and her scent glands were aching, begging to be marked by the woman now straddling her.

She could feel it clearly—the hunger surging from deep within.

A wave rising from the bottom of the sea, unstoppable, threatening to crash through her carefully built walls of control.

For a brief second, Shen Tingjun felt herself wavering. She was on the verge of abandoning the secret she had guarded for eleven years…

Shang Ranzhu’s pale fingers slowly reached for her collar, unfastening the first ornate clasp on her qipao (cheongsam).

As her hand moved toward the second clasp—

“Enough,” Shen Tingjun ordered coldly.

This wasn’t Gong Li speaking.

It was Shen Tingjun.

The command ended the audition immediately.

Xu Yiren clutched his head in frustration. “No!” he shouted, utterly disappointed by her decision. Chen Qiangwei, on the other hand, finally relaxed her stiff posture, and her face softened slightly.

Outside, the rain had lightened, now a soft drizzle tapping against the ground. Through the window’s faint light, one could clearly see Shang Ranzhu’s chest rising and falling with each deep breath. She remained still, staring intensely at Shen Tingjun, as if she wanted to make her hers.

They had been that close.

If Shen Tingjun hadn’t stopped her, she really might have undressed her piece by piece… bitten her shoulder, her collarbone—left her own mark on that delicate body and claimed her completely…

Just one more second and—

“Would you mind getting off me, little one?” Shen Tingjun’s voice brought Shang Ranzhu crashing back to reality.

Her tone was very different from before—neither the sultry voice of Gong Li nor the cold command that had ended the scene. It sounded like the same gentle tone she had used earlier, when she told Shang Ranzhu she could open her eyes.

Obediently, Shang Ranzhu climbed off.

Shen Tingjun gave her a slight nod of thanks, calmly adjusted her clothes, and walked straight out the door.

Her back was slender and straight, waist narrow, and hips taut. Shang Ranzhu had touched it just now—it was soft and supple, even more so than her Beta friend Chen Ming’s.

If only this stunning beauty were an Omega.

What a pity—she was an Alpha.

But even as an Alpha… During that scene, Shen Tingjun had embodied seduction, down to her very bones.

Just that one glance—and Shang Ranzhu felt like her soul had been snatched away.

Not many Omegas could compete with that.

A sudden flash of lightning lit up the window, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Shang Ranzhu flinched, startled, and realized with a jolt—

She had genuinely been admiring Shen Tingjun.

God, what was she thinking?

How could she feel admiration—or even praise—for her rival?

Shang Ranzhu, you cannot let beauty cloud your eyes.

You’re supposed to be the Alpha who surpasses Shen Tingjun.

Shang Ranzhu figured she must’ve been affected by the pheromones Shen Tingjun had left lingering in the room—that had to be the reason for her strange reaction earlier. So she quickly slipped out while no one was paying attention, planning to go find some fresh air to clear her head.

She made her way up to the fourth floor, thinking the higher level would be more deserted. But the moment she stepped out of the stairwell, she saw Shen Tingjun again.

Seriously—speak of the devil.

Shang Ranzhu quickly ducked behind the door, planning to wait until Shen Tingjun left before coming out.

That’s when she heard a soft, sharp click echo down the quiet hallway.

Click.

A lighter?

Was… was she smoking?

Shang Ranzhu curiously peeked her head out slightly.

She saw that Shen Tingjun was still wearing the same qipao she’d worn during the screen test. The top button, which had been undone earlier, was now fastened again. She leaned casually against the wall, the form-fitting dress tracing every clean line of her body. Her abdomen was flat—exceptionally so, not an ounce of softness in sight.

She raised one hand, long fingers holding a slender woman’s cigarette. Her elegant chignon was a bit loose now, with a few strands of hair brushing her ear as she tilted her head back against the wall.

Under the dim, yellow light, Shen Tingjun’s face glowed faintly. From the lips that had almost touched hers earlier, a slow stream of pale smoke drifted upward. The whole scene carried a sort of decadent beauty.

“There you are, Tingjun.” A woman with long, wavy hair approached her, dressed in a vintage-style skirt suit. She was about Shen Tingjun’s height, and their overall aesthetics matched—one Eastern and one Western—like a pair of childhood sweethearts from the Republican era.

“Smoking again? Didn’t I tell you to cut back?” the woman asked.

Shen Tingjun flicked the ash from her cigarette and gave her a faint smile. “Then maybe you should get Gong Li to smoke less. That way I’ll be able to quit too.”

Only then did Shang Ranzhu recognize the woman—it was Chen Qiangwei, the screenwriter of Moonlight, and the same person who had been sitting next to Xu Yiren during the screen test.

As someone who kept close on showbiz gossip, Shang Ranzhu had heard plenty of rumors about the two of them.

Three years ago, Shen Tingjun had won the prestigious Golden Lily Award—one of the Big Three—for her performance in The Vanished Piano, a script written by Chen Qiangwei. Rumors had been circulating ever since that the two were secretly dating. Many speculated that Shen Tingjun and Chen Qiangwei had secretly tied the knot when news broke that she would star in a script specifically written for her.

An Alpha-Beta couple wasn’t unheard of.

However, Shang Ranzhu found something unsettling about the two of them together.

It always felt like Chen Qiangwei was the one chasing.

Just as she had that thought, Chen Qiangwei casually reached for a cigarette from Shen Tingjun’s pack, held it between her lips, and leaned in toward the one Shen Tingjun was smoking, clearly going for a smoke kiss.

It was an ambiguous, intimate gesture.

Shang Ranzhu’s fists clenched instinctively. She didn’t know why, but she really didn’t want to see them kiss.

And just when she thought they were going to—

Shen Tingjun turned her head slightly toward Shang Ranzhu’s direction with a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She pulled the cigarette from her mouth, held it between her fingers, and instead handed Chen Qiangwei a lighter.

Shang Ranzhu let out a quiet breath of relief.

“You should cut back too,” Shen Tingjun said gently, not the least bit upset by Chen Qiangwei’s presumptuousness. She was well aware of how Chen Qiangwei felt about her. But she, an Alpha, felt nothing romantic in return. She had always maintained a polite distance—neither encouraging nor rejecting her.

“It’s getting colder lately. You should wear more layers,” Chen Qiangwei said, sounding a little disappointed. She took the lighter, lit her cigarette, and took a flavorless puff.

Shen Tingjun nodded and returned her warmth with equal gentleness. “You too.”

“Old Xu’s really impressed with Shang Ranzhu. He asked me to get your thoughts.” Chen Qiangwei paused. “Do you want her?”

“What about you?” Shen Tingjun didn’t answer directly and instead threw the question back at her.

“I don’t like her,” Chen Qiangwei said bluntly.

“Is it because I don’t like her, or is it because you don’t think she can play Chun Ming?” Shen Tingjun asked plainly, as if she could see straight through Chen Qiangwei’s thoughts.

Chen Qiangwei didn’t reply. Her silence confirmed it was the former.

Shen Tingjun tapped the ash from her cigarette and spoke with certainty, “She can play Chun Ming. I can feel it.”

“She’s always hostile toward you—everyone knows that. And during the screen test just now, didn’t you notice? She has no boundaries.” Chen Qiangwei’s words dripped with disapproval.

“I’ll keep my distance from her. I’ll minimize unnecessary contact,” Shen Tingjun said, her words seemingly meant for Chen Qiangwei but also clearly meant for herself.

She had to keep her distance.

She couldn’t let Shang Ranzhu’s pheromones scramble her head.

She had kept this secret for eleven years. She couldn’t let a single moment of recklessness destroy everything.

The wind in the stairwell howled through the cracks. Shang Ranzhu could only catch bits and pieces of their conversation—fragmented and impossible to stitch together. She had no idea how long they talked for, but eventually the hallway fell silent.

Were they done?

Shang Ranzhu lit up with glee. Finally, the fourth floor was hers!

She happily stepped out, only to look up and find Shen Tingjun standing silently right in front of her.

How did she get there without making a sound in those heels?

Shang Ranzhu stared at her, stunned—they were about the same height. She couldn’t decide whether to greet her or just run away.

Luckily, Shen Tingjun made the first move, blocking her path. She flicked the ash from her cigarette and smiled warmly. “Little one, eavesdropping is not a very good habit, you know.”