Chapter 6: The Fourth Day
Three days passed, and the taboo of "no communication" was finally lifted.
Early in the morning, Su Shengxin woke up. He quietly turned the doorknob and stepped into the living room to check if there was any sign of movement in the other room. From the producer’s perspective, he desperately wanted to see the other person but was reluctant to disturb him.
Meanwhile, Shang Yin had also woken up early in the other room. He was reading and replying to emails, occasionally glancing at the time.
At last, the clock struck seven—the time they usually got up. Shang Yin tidied himself slightly in front of the large mirror, then walked to Su Shengxin’s door and knocked gently.
Softly, he called out, “Shengxin?”
“Mr. Shang?” Su Shengxin immediately appeared at the door and turned the handle.
The door opened, and their eyes met.
Su Shengxin lifted his gaze, filled with tenderness and a hint of shyness from the long silence. “Good morning.”
Shang Yin replied softly, “Good morning.”
No one could tell that this “couple” was merely acting.
Shang Yin asked, “What do you want to eat? There are some fried dumplings in the fridge.”
Su Shengxin smiled, “Fried dumplings it is. I’ll warm up two glasses of milk and prepare some tea eggs and side dishes.”
Shang Yin nodded, “Sounds good.”
Once seated, Su Shengxin did not reach for his chopsticks. He sat back slightly, fingers interlaced, eyes looking up at Shang Yin from below, calling out pointlessly, “Mr. Shang.”
Shang Yin looked back with a fond smile and answered, “Teacher Su.”
“Mr. Shang,” Su Shengxin repeated.
“Teacher Su,” Shang Yin replied again.
“Mr. Shang—” Su Shengxin began a third time.
“Alright,” Shang Yin smiled, feigning gentleness as he handed over the chopsticks. “Let’s eat breakfast.”
Su Shengxin’s sweetness lingered, “Mm.”
“Those past two weeks...” Shang Yin asked, “How was it?”
“So many things I want to say,” Su Shengxin put down his chopsticks and opened a note on his phone filled with dense text. “I wrote down every single thing I wanted to talk about. Whenever I had something to say, I recorded it immediately, afraid I might forget it. That way, there wouldn’t be even a single thing happening in my life that you, Mr. Shang, would miss.”
Shang Yin’s gaze remained tender. “No rush, let’s take it one thing at a time.”
“Mm.” Su Shengxin stretched his neck forward. “On Monday of the first week, Meng Hao called to say he’d found a job. You remember Meng Hao, right?”
Shang Yin knew nothing, but gently said, “Of course.”
“Well, he—oh, that day I also watched a Spanish crime movie. It was quite interesting, deeply analyzing father-son relationships. The story goes like this—”
Sure enough, one matter after another, Su Shengxin told Shang Yin in detail, and Shang Yin listened attentively, occasionally replying with a few words.
By the time Su Shengxin finished, Shang Yin had just finished his breakfast. He wasn’t in a hurry to leave but spoke calmly, “A lot has happened on my side these past two weeks. Let me tell you slowly.”
Su Shengxin gave a soft “Mm.”
After exchanging two weeks’ worth of stories, Su Shengxin stared blankly at Shang Yin, his clear eyes reflecting the other’s image. As if unconsciously, he said, “Mr. Shang... I miss you so much.”
“...” Knowing it was just acting, yet seeing such sincerity in those eyes made Shang Yin soften his expression. “I miss you too.”
Su Shengxin then, seemingly without thinking, reached out his right hand. Suddenly remembering the rule—though they could communicate, they still couldn’t touch—he didn’t place his hand on Shang Yin’s but slowly let it fall back onto the table, fingertips just a centimeter or two away from Shang Yin’s.
Shang Yin’s fingertips twitched slightly but restrained himself.
Their gazes shifted from each other’s eyes to their hands, so near yet so far apart. They stared silently for a long moment before withdrawing their fingers.
For some reason, despite it being an act, Shang Yin genuinely felt a pang of discomfort.
He even pondered for a moment: What would the sensation of the other’s fingertips be like?
...
Upon arriving at the game venue, once communication was allowed, the other three couples visibly relaxed.
Though, due to the “no kissing, no touching” rule, their gazes remained thick and sticky.
The lead dancer, usually very clingy, was always seen leaning on her husband—hugged at the shoulder or waist, sitting on his lap. But now, they could only face each other; the woman’s hands were clasped behind her back, fingers intertwined, restraining herself.
This afternoon’s game clearly aimed to fan the flames in this tense situation.
Before announcing the game, a staff member handed each “husband” a single white glove.
“???” The international director, NBA player, and pianist all looked puzzled.
Shang Yin took the glove, checked the size, expression unreadable.
Only one glove was given.
The producer then revealed the game’s theme: “Sniff the Perfume.”
The staff would apply perfume to the wives’ necks, and the husbands had to identify each ingredient of the scent. The game would have winners and losers; the closer the guess to the real ingredients, the higher the ranking. The top scorer would unlock the privilege to “hold hands” a day earlier.
However, since touching was still prohibited, husbands were not allowed to press their noses directly against their wives’ necks; they had to keep a slight distance. The show’s high-definition cameras would strictly monitor this—any contact with the nose would immediately disqualify the couple.
In order to manage distance and not touch, husbands were required to wear gloves when holding their wives’ necks or adjusting positions.
Upon hearing this new rule, the singer and lead dancer blushed, while the actress was more composed. Su Shengxin remained the most nonchalant.
The NBA player asked, “Sniff perfume?”
Others responded, “Yes.”
“I don’t know anything about this,” he admitted.
The others sympathized, “Just guess. Orange, tangerine, lotus, iris, cedarwood, patchouli, benzoin—these are common ingredients.”
NBA player asked again, “What? Besides orange and tangerine, what are the others?”
The first couple to go on stage was the NBA player and the male singer.
The NBA player sniffed, then, as if overwhelmed by the scent, frowned and looked up, holding his breath at the camera. “Orange.”
Everyone laughed kindly.
Surprisingly, “orange” was correct.
He got excited and shouted, “Tangerine!!!”
No.
“Lotus!!!”
Yes.
“Iris!!!”
No.
“Cedarwood!!!”
Yes.
“Then what other scents! I can’t remember! Just those two!!!”
Naturally, that didn’t count.
In the end, he guessed three ingredients correctly, a 25% accuracy.
He felt quite proud, considering it an extraordinary performance or even a successful cheat, happily walking off.
Next up were the international director and actress.
The actress smiled generously and tilted her neck. The director leaned in but didn’t touch her neck; instead, he draped an arm over her shoulder and sniffed.
The actress said, “I already smelled three ingredients myself.”
The director hesitated, “Sandalwood?”
“Ugh!” his wife scolded, “No way! That’s not sandalwood at all!”
The director sniffed again, “Incense?”
“You and your nose...” The actress rolled her eyes in exasperation.
Eventually, the director gave up and started guessing randomly, repeating the player’s list: “Orange! Tangerine! Lotus! Iris...!”
In the end, he recalled patchouli and benzoin and guessed “lemon” correctly by chance, achieving 30% accuracy—better than the NBA player.
The pianist was third. The lead dancer looked sweet and extremely happy.
When the pianist sniffed her neck, she couldn’t help but laugh, her voice clear and utterly adorable.
Compared to the player and director, the pianist knew much more about scents and achieved an impressive 60% accuracy, guessing 9 out of 15 ingredients correctly.
This was remarkable—almost reaching the entry-level standard of a perfumer.
Yesterday, the guest couple of two women were absent today. Su Shengxin wondered how the genius chess player would react to this.
Probably would have trouble breathing again.
The last couple was Su Shengxin and Shang Yin.
Shang Yin lowered his gaze, slowly putting on the white glove and locking eyes with Su Shengxin. “Darling, you know I hate losing—even in a game like this.”
His eyes were sharp and serious, causing Su Shengxin’s heart to skip a beat.
Without saying more, Shang Yin’s gloved left hand gently touched Su Shengxin’s neck, prompting him to tilt his neck slightly.
Su Shengxin didn’t resist; he leaned his neck to one side, elongating it.
The white glove was made of cotton, formal in style. The rough fabric palm held his neck, touching his skin; the thumb lightly pressed against his Adam’s apple. Su Shengxin suddenly felt a brief difficulty in breathing.
He realized just how sensitive he was and despised this sensitivity.
Then Shang Yin brought his nose closer.
Maintaining a slight distance.
He carefully sniffed, discerning each scent.
He had good taste and some knowledge of fragrances.
The scent lingered subtly between them, sweet and unparalleled.
After a moment, Shang Yin said, “Jasmine.”
Correct.
He sniffed again, then said, “Rose.”
Without looking up, he spoke directly. Warm breath brushed against Su Shengxin’s neck in waves, causing a tingling sensation and a slight tremor. Su Shengxin barely restrained himself.
Shang Yin continued correctly.
“Top notes...” he said, “Lemon, rum, rosemary,” pausing, “and... incense.”
The ingredients were difficult to confirm, so Shang Yin brought his nose even closer, his breath warming Su Shengxin’s neck.
To distinguish the fragrance, Shang Yin’s breathing was slow and lingering. He inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled, his breath falling softly on Su Shengxin’s nape.
The tingling on Su Shengxin’s neck felt like countless tiny ants crawling endlessly, without end. His pupils involuntarily blurred, and his gaze toward the camera became dazed. But he quickly regained clarity, closing and reopening his eyes, deliberately glancing elsewhere to divert attention.