Chapter Fifty-Seven: I Told You I'd Let You Have Your Fill!

Chapter Fifty-Seven: After This, You Can Inhale to Your Heart’s Content!

Bai Su nodded and said, “Yes. This has been giving me quite a headache. I spent the whole night thinking about it yesterday, and only managed to catch a short nap just now—that’s also why I asked you to come a day early to discuss this.”

She waved at Zhang Hepburn and called, “Benben, bring your laptop over and let Tang Zhong watch Miao Miao’s summer commercial for this year.”

“Hmph. He only has himself to blame for not bringing his own computer,” Zhang Hepburn grumbled, but she still paused her game, picked up her ultra-thin Apple laptop, and walked over.

Bai Su took the computer, typed “Miao Miao” into Google, and a slew of news articles immediately appeared.

She clicked on one. The video buffered briefly, then began to play.

Under the scorching sun, the three members of the Butterfly Group were singing and dancing energetically on an outdoor stage, while fans cheered wildly below. The scene was electric.

When the performance ended, the cute Zhang Hepburn licked her rosy lips, clearly thirsty.

A handsome boy appeared, shyly asking Zhang Hepburn, “Can I buy you an ice cream?”

“Sure,” Zhang Hepburn replied with a smile.

The boy was overjoyed and handed an ice cream to each member of the Butterfly Group—

“Miao Miao Ice Cream: All I Need is You.”

After their treat, the three girls resumed their cheerful singing and dancing, while fans waved their hands and cheered, ice cream in hand—

Despite Bai Su’s repeated requests for Tang Zhong to watch Tang Xin’s previous performance videos, he always found reasons to refuse. He didn’t want to imitate Tang Xin—even if she was his younger sister.

Tang Xin had a face remarkably similar to his own. She looked cool when she danced, and when she smiled, the resemblance was uncanny—

“Tang Xin,” Tang Zhong thought silently. “Please come back soon. No one can take your place.”

“Tang Zhong, what do you think after watching?” Bai Su asked.

“In such hot weather, isn’t it unwise to eat something cold after intense exercise?” Tang Zhong commented.

“That’s just a commercial,” Bai Su explained, exasperated. “You don’t have to worry about whether it’s logical. That’s their company’s business. What matters is this: how are you going to fill Tang Xin’s role?”

He was worried about that himself.

In the ad, Tang Xin wore a red skirt and a white blouse—typical trendy girl attire. Lin Huiyin wore a white skirt and a denim shirt, while Zhang Hepburn was in a spotted, striped skirt with a yellow blouse—their feminine curves and legs were on full display.

They could show off their legs—could Tang Zhong? They could flaunt their chests—what did he have to show? Even if Bai Su joked that Tang Xin was flat-chested, she wasn’t entirely so—

“Is the autumn/winter ad script the same as the summer one?” Tang Zhong asked.

“No,” Bai Su replied, shaking her head. “I found Miao Ren Company’s previous ad campaigns, and their styles have changed quite a bit over the years. Plus, since the autumn/winter campaign is set in colder months, the focus is on a romantic atmosphere—like an ad where the male and female leads, bundled up in thick clothes and scarves, share an ice cream on a bench.”

“I could play the guy,” Tang Zhong joked. “No need to hire an extra male lead.”

“Tang Zhong, be serious. Let’s focus on finding a real solution,” Bai Su said. “If nothing works, we’ll have to say your throat is injured and you’re receiving treatment abroad.”

“No need,” Tang Zhong replied. “Everyone works hard for their money; there’s no reason for my absence to cause the company to pay a huge penalty.”

“Then do you have any ideas?” Bai Su asked hopefully. This guy was always causing her trouble, but he could also surprise her.

Take the last MIFU endorsement, for example: when he kicked that perverted fan offstage, the backlash and criticism were overwhelming—until MIFU released the video, after which all those who had condemned him issued apologies and turned their anger on the shameless fan instead.

The incident became a marketing coup; that month, MIFU’s sales increased by seven percent. Otherwise, why would Liu Mingwei treat them with such respect and even host a banquet to apologize?

Of course, unless MIFU’s sales rose by seventy percent, Liu Mingwei would never truly let go of his grudges and toast with them as friends. That knot was not easily untied.

Last time, when she visited Liu Weidong on the company’s behalf, Liu Mingwei was surprisingly warm—making Bai Su secretly wary. Barking dogs don’t bite, and a fox that smiles is the most dangerous.

“We have to change the ad script,” Tang Zhong said seriously. “If we don’t want to pay damages and can’t reveal my identity, then the only way is to ask them to change the script—preferably to one that doesn’t require me to alter my appearance. That way, I can participate.”

Bai Su shook her head. “That’s difficult. Professional directors handle ad shoots. We can offer some suggestions, but it’s hard to change their minds—”

Tang Zhong pointed to the commercial they’d just watched. “What did you think of that script?”

“Not much,” Bai Su replied with a smile. “It’s a bit rude to criticize a client’s taste, but I have to be honest: every food and beverage company does the same thing—hire a celebrity to sing and dance, then have a fan bring them ice cream or a drink. It’s too generic. Nothing refreshing or original about it.”

“Exactly,” Tang Zhong agreed. “Let’s give them something refreshing. Even the director wouldn’t be able to refuse, right?”

“Can you write an ad script?” Bai Su asked excitedly.

“No,” Tang Zhong admitted. He had just started college—how could he know such a specialized skill? “We only need to provide a rough idea. They’ll have professional writers to handle the details. If we’re worried about communication, we can find someone ourselves to flesh out the concept first.”

Bai Su jumped up, ran over, and sat close to Tang Zhong, beaming. “Tell me! Quickly! What’s your brilliant idea? You have no idea—I’ve been so anxious I haven’t slept for two days. If I’d known you were this good, I’d have roped you in as a workhorse long ago—”

She smelled of fresh bathwater and the natural, subtle fragrance of a mature woman. When she sat still, the scent was mild, but when she moved, it became more intense.

Tang Zhong couldn’t help but take a deep breath, letting the fragrance soothe his heart and lungs.

Bai Su noticed his little gesture and urged, “Quick, tell me! After you’re done, you can inhale all you want.”

It was only after she spoke that she realized how suggestive her words sounded. Her cheeks flushed, and she felt a tinge of embarrassment.

——

In the Mercedes van, all three members of the Butterfly Group—Tang Xin, Lin Huiyin, and Zhang Hepburn—were present. Bai Su, as their manager and assistant, naturally accompanied them, and Ken was there, too. During the shoot, they might need touch-ups or new hairstyles; Lin Huiyin and Zhang Hepburn could rely on other stylists, but Ken had to take care of Tang Zhong personally.

Dressed in a white business suit, Bai Su looked both stylish and professional, holding a folder where she carefully recorded and relayed every important task and point of attention.

“Huiyin, if the media interviews you, try to say more than a few words—oh, never mind. I know it’s pointless to ask.”

“Benben, you’re the opposite—too talkative. As a public figure, you must know that too many words can get you in trouble. A careless comment, twisted by the media, can ruin your image. You’re the one I worry about most.”

“Got it. I’ll be like Sister Huiyin and only speak in two-word sentences from now on,” Zhang Hepburn grumbled. How was she too talkative? Everything she said was necessary, wasn’t it? She was already trying her best to hold back—

“Ken, Tang Zhong is your responsibility.”

“No problem! Trust my professionalism—I’m a pro,” Ken replied, winking at Tang Zhong.

“Tang Zhong—” Bai Su paused a moment, “Just like before: no matter what happens, don’t speak.”

“Understood,” Tang Zhong nodded.

Bai Su sighed. “If only you could change your voice. That’s our only flaw—”

“If I could change gender, wouldn’t that be even better?” Tang Zhong muttered, disgruntled.

Bai Su laughed in delight. “Then we’d really be sisters—and poor Ken would be the saddest of all.”

“Why would I be sad? Why would I be sad? Su Su, you’ve gotten worse and worse. That’s not good!” Ken protested indignantly.

“All right, Ken, don’t be mad. Just joking,” Bai Su said with a smile. “I’m a bit nervous.”

Tang Zhong looked up at her in surprise, just as she glanced his way.

“Let’s stick to our plan. Everything will be fine,” Tang Zhong said, patting her thigh reassuringly.

He knew that most of the pressure was weighing on this woman’s shoulders. The stand-in plan was her and Tang Xin’s idea; if Tang Xin fell ill, the company wouldn’t blame her. But if anything was exposed, all the responsibility and criticism would fall on her alone. Sometimes, he wanted to ask why, with her intelligence and ability, she’d take on such a thankless task.

“You brat, are you trying to comfort me or take advantage?” Bai Su laughed, slapping his hand away.

The van turned left and entered the designated filming site for Miao Ren Company.

As soon as the Mercedes arrived, a group of people came out to meet them.

Bai Su glanced back at Tang Zhong before opening the door and stepping out first.

Tang Zhong took a deep breath.

He knew—the real challenge was about to begin.

(P.S.: Someone said I write fairy tales. I think they’re wrong. I write jokes. “The Genius Doctor” is about great love and saving traditional medicine; this book has no such lofty ambitions—I just want to write little stories that make people laugh and cry. In these early days of the new novel, I hope everyone will come support me on Zongheng Chinese Network. “The Flaming King”—it can only be ‘flaming’ with you!)