011. A Scent That Makes Your Face Flush and Your Heart Race

“I’m not angry,” Qin Lan said, forcing a smile. “I haven’t even congratulated you yet—having such a beautiful and fair-skinned ex-girlfriend.”

The emphasis on “fair-skinned” and “ex-girlfriend” didn’t go unnoticed by Yan Li, who simply glanced at the table full of dishes and sighed.

“If you don’t want to pay, let me go back and get some cash. I didn’t bring any with me.”

Qin Lan, who had been holding back her annoyance, couldn’t help but laugh and shot him a glance. “Don’t worry, I’m not that petty.”

“Hmph, your credibility with me isn’t very high right now.”

A few casual remarks dissolved the earlier awkwardness, mainly because Qin Lan realized she had been unreasonable. She had been clinging to him for a critique, then got upset afterward—what kind of behavior was that? Playful pettiness was fine between couples, but she and Yan Li were just newly acquainted friends.

Qin Lan was straightforward; she poured herself a large glass of beer and gulped it down. “It was my fault. Let me make it up to you.”

Hearing this, Yan Li looked at Qin Lan with newfound respect. Women often played coy with men, but it was rare for one to admit fault and apologize willingly. This girl was genuinely sincere.

Yan Li had a scene in the afternoon and couldn’t drink, so he accompanied her with tea instead. Neither of them was overly particular, so the minor hiccup didn’t affect their relationship—the atmosphere at dinner remained warm and harmonious.

After the meal, as they settled the bill, Yan Li noticed the faint flush on Qin Lan’s cheeks from the alcohol and felt a bit concerned. “Let me see you off.”

Qin Lan waved him off. “No need. I just get flushed when I drink; I’m not drunk.”

“It’s no trouble. It’s on the way back to the set.”

Yan Li and Qin Lan walked back together to the hotel where she was staying. The production of “Princess Pearl 3” was indeed a grand set, much more upscale than the hotel Yan Li was staying in.

“All right, you head up. I’m leaving now.”

At the hotel entrance, just as Yan Li was about to wave goodbye, Qin Lan suddenly grabbed him and leaned into his embrace, leaving Yan Li bewildered. They had been outside, the breeze and alcohol mingling—why the sudden closeness?

“Our crew’s here. Shield me a bit,” Qin Lan whispered.

Only then did Yan Li understand—they had bumped into some of her colleagues. But there was no need to hide; they had no secret relationship. Running into a classmate or friend on set was normal. Could they be rivals?

Yan Li quickly scanned the group: three women and two men, a couple of whom looked familiar. Without overthinking it, since Qin Lan asked for help, he couldn’t refuse.

Yan Li was tall and muscular, dressed in a slightly loose period costume. He shifted slightly, wrapping Qin Lan firmly in his arms, the long sleeves covering her face and clothes completely. Even if others noticed, they would think it was just two actors flirting—a common sight around Hengdian.

Yan Li lowered his head, feigning affection, while his eyes kept watch on the group to prevent Qin Lan from being spotted.

But Qin Lan, nestled in his arms, no longer cared about the others. It was June; Hengdian wasn’t unbearably hot nor cool. Yan Li had removed his outer armor, leaving only a thin inner lining beneath the robe. Qin Lan pressed tightly against him, feeling the firm yet supple muscles of his chest, abdomen, and arms, which radiated warmth.

Moreover, the long sleeves were not very breathable, and after their walk, Yan Li was slightly sweaty. The scent of sweat mixed faintly with tobacco—not exactly pleasant, yet Qin Lan found herself strangely drawn to it, even somewhat fond of it.

Was her nose broken? Or her mind?

She scolded herself silently. Suddenly, she felt Yan Li’s arms loosen as he stepped back, freeing her.

“They’re gone. They probably didn’t notice us.”

Qin Lan glanced at the empty embrace, feeling a hint of wistfulness. She tidied her hair and explained, “Someone was trying to chase after me just now. I was worried if he saw you, there might be trouble.”

“Your boyfriend?” Yan Li asked, realizing why she’d been so cautious—such situations could easily be misunderstood.

“No, no,” Qin Lan shook her head vigorously, fearing Yan Li might think the wrong thing. “He’s pursuing me, but I haven’t agreed. If he saw us together, I’m afraid he’d make a scene. There are always people from the crew coming and going, and I’m a newcomer. It’s better to avoid unnecessary trouble.”

Though her explanation was a bit jumbled, Yan Li understood and grew indignant. “What a scoundrel! If a girl says no, you shouldn’t keep pestering her.”

Yan Li despised such men. Pursuing a girl was fine, but it had to be mutual. Persisting against her will was pointless.

“Want me to help? If you want, I can step in and warn him.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Yan Li was not one to meddle in others’ affairs, but Qin Lan was his friend—he couldn’t stand to see her bullied.

“No, no need,” Qin Lan hurriedly stopped him. The guy was annoying but not that bad, and he had some standing on set. She preferred to avoid conflict rather than drag Yan Li into it.

After a few questions confirmed the situation wasn’t serious, Yan Li reluctantly let it go but still emphasized, “Call me if anything happens. I have my ways to deal with him without causing a scene or dragging you into trouble.”

Qin Lan felt a warm glow inside but kindly persuaded Yan Li to leave, waving goodbye.

Watching Yan Li’s retreating figure, Qin Lan found herself inexplicably bringing the arm that had been pressed against him to her nose, inhaling deeply. When her mind caught up, her face flushed scarlet, and her heart pounded.

“Pathetic, you’re such a lovesick fool,” she muttered, slapping her cheeks to sober up. Feeling the heat subside, Qin Lan stepped into the hotel.

But just as she neared her room upstairs, her faint smile vanished.

By her door stood a handsome man with a shaved head—her suitor, Huang Xiaoming, who played Xiao Jian in “Princess Pearl 3.”

Seeing Qin Lan, Huang Xiaoming smiled broadly, holding up a takeout box. “Earlier, Huang Yi and the others were planning a get-together and wanted to invite you. You weren’t in your room, so I brought you some food.”

Usually, when faced with such gestures, Qin Lan, who disliked causing friction among colleagues, would try to politely decline or find a way to make a gentle excuse. But her hesitance and ambiguity only seemed to encourage Huang Xiaoming’s persistent attentions.

Thinking this over, Qin Lan steeled herself, her expression cold and voice firm. “No, thank you. I’m not hungry. Please don’t bring me food anymore—it might cause misunderstandings.”

Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and slipped inside, shutting him out.

Huang Xiaoming looked puzzled, touched his forehead, then suddenly had an idea. Maybe someone had said something to Qin Lan about him, and she was upset or jealous, throwing a tantrum.

So, he called through the door, explaining rapidly, but Qin Lan was no longer interested.

It wasn’t entirely her fault for not being firm enough; Huang Xiaoming liked to imagine things and talk to himself, interpreting everything his own way with a baffling confidence.

Putting on her headphones to block out the noise, Qin Lan’s thoughts shifted as she grabbed a mirror to look at herself. Her slender fingers traced her cheek, her beautiful eyes flickering before she murmured softly, “Not quite fair…”