Su Wan pinched the note with the detailed shooting suggestions, folded it gently, and slipped it into a hidden compartment of her notebook—its matte off-white cover made a faint “rustling” sound as it slid in. Then she lifted her wrist slightly, and the notebook snapped shut with a “click,” its corners brushing against the wood grain of the desk and leaving a faint streak.

“Ding—”

A crisp notification suddenly rang out from the computer in the corner of the desk, breaking the room’s quiet. A small envelope icon popped up in the bottom-right corner of the screen, glowing a soft blue: [New Email: From “Yuese Cosmetics Business Cooperation.”]

She pulled over a chair and sat down, tapping the keyboard twice to open the email. The cursor slowly scrolled down with the mouse wheel until it landed on the “Amount” line—5,000 yuan in promotion fee, for promoting a newly launched liquid foundation. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled shadows on the screen that fell right on that number, making her squint slightly.

Although this amount was a bit less than her last gig, at least it was hassle-free: no need to fuss over outfit coordination, just a simple trial and product review, followed by a short-form video. She didn’t rush to reply; instead, she dragged the mouse all the way to the end of the email, scanning the bolded requirements: “Post within 48 hours, include the brand’s designated hashtag and product link, and the content must be a positive recommendation.”

“A positive recommendation?” Su Wan’s brow furrowed slightly, then she scrolled back up to the attachment and opened the product introduction image. On the screen, the frosted, semi-transparent bottle of foundation gleamed delicately, its packaging simple yet luxurious. The tagline boldly proclaimed, “Lightweight, long-lasting wear for twelve hours—safe for sensitive skin,” while a tiny line of gray text at the bottom faintly read, “Certified by a third-party testing agency.”

She clicked the reply box and typed briskly: “Please send the samples to our studio address *. I’ll conduct a hands-on test before deciding whether to collaborate.” After hitting “Send,” she filed the email as a pending task.

As Su Wan stood up, the chair leg scraped a soft “creak” across the floor. She turned toward the balcony and study to collect the filming equipment still scattered there—the tripod’s metal legs reflected the sunlight, and the camera lens cap hadn’t been closed yet, catching her blurry silhouette.

The next morning, just after ten o’clock, the doorbell rang punctually—clear and urgent. Su Wan slipped on her soft-soled slippers, went to answer, and took a small cardboard box from the deliveryman. The packaging was neat, and her fingertips could feel something hard inside; it wasn’t very heavy.

Back at her desk, she carefully cut the tape with a utility knife and opened the box—inside was a palm-sized white box, its surface emblazoned with Yue Se Cosmetics’ golden logo and feeling luxuriously smooth to the touch. Lifting the lid, three 10-mL bottles of foundation lay quietly nestled in shock-absorbing cotton, alongside a small silver brush and a cream-colored card printed in gold foil: “Thank you for your support; looking forward to the finished video.”

Ten milliliters of foundation? A sample size? Su Wan inwardly groaned—this brand sure doesn’t have much flair…

She unscrewed each bottle cap one by one, brought them close to her nose to take a sniff, and found no harsh synthetic fragrance—so far, so good.

Then she calmly picked up her camera, pressed the record button, and aimed the lens at the desk, shooting just half a minute of unboxing footage. In the shot, the white box, the silver brush, and the translucent foundation looked especially clear under the natural light. She planned to use this clip as the opening sequence if they ended up collaborating.

End of Chapter 15: Allergy