Hearing this inquiry, Ji Mingshu instinctively looked up.

The man was very tall, about 185 cm, similar to Cen Sen’s height, and he appeared to be around the same age as Cen Sen. He wore a ChrisChou suit from the fall/winter collection released in June this year, which fit him perfectly. He had a gentle, clean demeanor and handsome features.

But she didn’t recognize him, nor had she seen him before.

She casually glanced at Jiang Chun beside her, only to find Jiang Chun staring back at her with a face full of innocence and bewilderment.

Ji Mingshu: “…”

The little earth goose didn’t recognize him either.

She had initially thought he might be a new face who had recently entered their circle and was trying to get acquainted with her, but now it seemed that wasn’t the case.

She didn’t bother to guess further and directly asked, “Hello, do we know each other?”

The man gazed at her deeply, his smile widening, his voice clear like striking gold and jade, “Xiao Shu, you’re still the same as when you were little.”

The words “when you were little” fell on Ji Mingshu’s ears like a key unlocking a magic box, inadvertently bringing out a patch of old, yellowed childhood memories. She stared at the man, stunned for a moment, the confusion in her eyes slowly receding. The man’s silhouette gradually transformed and shrank, seamlessly overlapping with a certain vague-featured face from her memory.

However, her voice still carried some uncertainty, “Cen… Brother Yang?”

The man smiled again, nodding frankly in acknowledgment, and playfully said, “I’m impressed that Miss Ji, busy with so many important matters, hasn’t completely forgotten both me and my name.”

Ji Mingshu didn’t speak for a while, either from extreme shock or a delayed reaction.

Standing nearby, Jiang Chun wasn’t stupid. As soon as she heard the surname, she sensed there was a story behind it.

Surname Cen? So he’s from the Cen family. Judging by his age, could he be Cen Sen’s brother?

But if they were brothers, how could Ji Mingshu not recognize him after not seeing him for many years?

In just a few seconds, Jiang Chun had already imagined a grand drama of brotherly conflict over inheritance rights in a wealthy family. She nudged Ji Mingshu, whispering in her ear, “Who is this? He’s quite handsome. Is he Cen Sen’s cousin or some illegitimate half-brother?”

Ji Mingshu finally came back to her senses after being nudged.

But after regaining her composure, she didn’t feel much beyond shock. She instinctively looked back in Cen Sen’s direction.

Coincidentally, after the show ended, the piano stairs had automatically retracted, and the old steamship T-stage setting was slowly rotating. In these few seconds, its rotation position happened to block the view between the showroom area and the viewing area.

Ji Mingshu wasn’t sure what she was thinking when Cen Yang, timely, raised his hand to check his watch, suddenly saying, “Sorry, Xiao Shu, I have something to attend to today and can’t chat with you for long. In a few days, I’ll invite you for afternoon tea, and we can have a proper talk then.”

He took out his phone, pulled up the QR code interface, and held it in front of Ji Mingshu, “This is my WeChat. Add me.”

“Oh, okay.”

Ji Mingshu didn’t have time to think and passively took out her phone to add his WeChat.

Cen Yang changed his contact name to “Xiao Shu” right in front of her, and waved his phone, smiling, “I just registered a WeChat account after returning to China recently. You’re my third friend.”

Before Ji Mingshu could respond, he put away his phone, “Well, I have to go now. I’ll contact you later.”

Even after Cen Yang had walked out of sight, Ji Mingshu remained as if in a dream, unable to come back to her senses for a long time.

How magical that such a real person had disappeared without a trace in her childhood, and after fifteen or twenty years, suddenly reappeared just like that.

Jiang Chun stood nearby, staring at Cen Yang’s back for a while, then seriously fixed her gaze on Ji Mingshu, demanding, “Tell me, do you and this Brother Yang have some illicit relationship?! As soon as you saw him, you stood there motionless like your soul had been taken by the Black and White Impermanence… Hey, don’t tell me your conflict with Cen Sen is because there’s this childhood sweetheart stirring things up? But wait, how come I’ve never heard you mention such a person???”

Before Ji Mingshu could speak, Jiang Chun released the arm she was holding and muttered softly, “Ji’s Shu Shu, you’ve changed. You even have secrets from me now!”

Ji Mingshu stared at her with a “have you been dimensionally attacked by the Singer Civilization” look, vividly demonstrating what it means to be speechless and at a loss for words.

Meanwhile, Cen Sen remained seated in his original position. Before he could clearly see what the man Ji Mingshu had bumped into looked like, his view was blocked by the rotating T-stage.

He unhurriedly finished giving instructions to Zhou Jiaheng and stood up to walk in Ji Mingshu’s direction.

However, after the show ended, the venue was chaotic. By the time he reached where Ji Mingshu had been standing, she was long gone, with no sight of her anywhere.

Fifteen minutes later, Zhou Jiaheng sent him intelligence from the showroom, “Madam and Miss Jiang Chun are trying on clothes. Besides the ones you mentioned, Madam seems to like the white dress worn by the opening model.”

“Buy it.”

Zhou Jiaheng responded with a “Yes,” without mentioning anything about any man.

Cen Sen didn’t ask further.

ChrisChou’s early spring show opened with great fanfare and ended with stunning acclaim.

For days after the show, entertainment gossip and fashion media frequently mentioned and discussed it.

The former mostly focused on the celebrities who attended the show—their outfits, hairstyles, makeup, photo arrangement order, seating positions, and the mysteries of sisterhood frame heights in the entertainment circle—all good material for extensive articles and discussions.

The latter was more professional and in-depth, discussing the significance of ChrisChou holding a show in China, the pros and cons of this season’s three collection designs, how this work compared to his previous styles, which aspects represented inheritance, and which represented revolution… Of course, the design of the venue was also frequently mentioned.

For instance, Gu Kaiyang’s magazine wrote in a special interview: “Just as December entered early winter, ChrisChou released next year’s early spring ready-to-wear collection at Beijing’s Junyihuazhang Hotel…”

“ChrisChou once again invited interior designer Ji Mingshu to collaborate on creating the ‘Decadent Luxury’ early spring show venue, and to create an immersive video art installation of the same name to deliver an ultimate sensory experience. At the venue, piano stairs, corridors, and mirror reflections complemented each other, while the immersive installation transported people back to the Shanghai Bund era, and the main show’s rotating steamship was particularly ingenious.”

“From the venue to the clothing, this season’s early spring show has moved beyond ChrisChou’s inherent style. In combining modern minimalist art with Chinese element retro charm, both ChrisChou and his interior design partner have submitted a perfect answer sheet.”

ChrisChou’s two-minute closing speech and thanks almost directly pushed Ji Mingshu to the forefront, elevating her status and prestige in interior design.

Like “Zero Degrees,” many fashion magazines and media naturally delved deeper into this interior designer when writing reviews, only to discover that she had no other works.

Of course, this didn’t matter much—they simply hyped up her academic credentials and her role as ChrisChou’s exclusive partner. Those who knew she was a top socialite and weren’t afraid to write about it directly gave her the title of “socialite designer.”

All at once, flattery came pouring in from all directions.

Before, people would praise Ji Mingshu for being beautiful, kind, and tasteful even when she wasn’t doing anything. Now that she had done something legitimate, the praise could expand comprehensively in multiple dimensions.

Ji Mingshu couldn’t keep up with it all. After ChrisChou left, she lay on her bed like a salted fish for a full two days, her mind playing double-speed barrage comments—

Does Cen’s Sen Sen still have a conscience? When will he beg this baby to come home? Can the little money earned from this job sustain me until then? Am I afraid I’ll have to wait until I die?! Wuwuwu, work is too tiring! This little bird has endured too much TVT!

Just as Ji Mingshu was being such a salted fish that she wouldn’t even turn over, Cen Yang, whom she had run into at the show, sent her a message saying that a friend of his had bought a quadrangle courtyard at West Capital No. 3 and was hoping to find someone to help with the design.

Ji Mingshu instinctively replied, “No, no.”

After replying, she felt embarrassed to say it was because she was tired and didn’t want to work recently, so she tactfully explained: “I’m not very good at Chinese-style design, and I’ve just finished a show, so my inspiration seems to have dried up a bit. But I know an excellent Chinese-style designer whom I can recommend to you.”

Cen Yang said okay, so she found the business card of a designer from another team whom she had met while recording a show, and forwarded it to him.

Not long after, Cen Yang asked if she had time to come out for afternoon tea or dinner, saying that after many years apart, he wanted to catch up with her.

She had just declined a design job and couldn’t refuse repeatedly. Besides, she couldn’t find a reason to decline Cen Yang’s request. She didn’t have many deep impressions of many childhood things, but she always remembered that Cen Yang had been very kind to her when they were young.

Without much hesitation, she replied with an “Okay.”

Ji Mingshu was so lost in her idle days that she didn’t pay attention to the date. It wasn’t until close to their meeting that she realized the day Cen Yang had invited her to dinner was Christmas Eve.

In the French restaurant on Christmas Eve, ethereal, soothing music danced through the air. Under the orange-toned lights, exquisite tableware gleamed transparently, and every detail of the cups, tables, and chairs exuded French elegance.

Ji Mingshu was led by the waiter to Cen Yang’s reserved table, and along the way, she saw young couples who had come out to celebrate the holiday with a feast.

Cen Yang waved to her from a distance, then stood up to pull out the soft chair for her.

Ji Mingshu sat down, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.

Cen Yang also returned to his seat opposite her, poured her a little red wine, and asked with a smile, “Do you feel a bit awkward? I feel a bit awkward, too.”

After pouring the wine, he pushed the glass forward by its base and continued, “Sorry, Xiao Shu, I didn’t consider thoroughly. It seems that those coming out for a big dinner tonight are all couples.”

Cen Yang spoke so frankly that Ji Mingshu couldn’t bring herself to act uncomfortable.

She took a small sip of wine, then shrugged lightly, “It’s okay. I haven’t had French cuisine for a long time anyway.”

Cen Yang nodded and ordered with her.

It’s too easy for once-familiar people to reconnect. The two naturally moved from discussing the dishes to their first experience with French cuisine as children.

They were both very young then, not knowing much. Ji Mingshu pretentiously extended her little hand to cut the steak, and somehow, with a “splat,” she sent the steak flying directly onto Cen Yang’s face. Cen Yang didn’t hold it against the little one, and with a big brother’s sense of responsibility, he cut his steak properly and exchanged plates with her.

These events had happened too long ago for Ji Mingshu to recall easily, but as Cen Yang mentioned them, she gradually remembered. The more she thought about it, the more amusing and embarrassing her childhood self seemed. Not wanting to be outdone, she also recalled some of Cen Yang’s childhood stories to counterattack.

A complete French dinner could last a full two hours. When eating with someone like Cen Sen, who seemed to think “saying one more word means I lose,” Ji Mingshu always found it boring and unbearable. Eating with someone like Cen Yang, who could effortlessly bring up topics of conversation, she unexpectedly enjoyed herself throughout.

Moreover, the grown-up Cen Yang, like his childhood self, understood boundaries perfectly. The topics they discussed were all casual and relaxed, without immediately jumping into deep grudges or reminiscing like a game of twenty questions.

It wasn’t until they were drinking coffee at the end that Cen Yang’s smile faded slightly, bringing up a sensitive topic: “I heard you married him. Does he treat you well?”

Although Cen Yang had maintained a harmonious atmosphere throughout, Ji Mingshu had vaguely felt before coming that… he would ask about Cen Sen.. Sure enough, what was bound to come had come.

She also picked up her coffee, took a small sip, thought carefully, and replied.

After listening, Cen Yang was slightly stunned, and after a while, he simply said, “Mm,” then casually changed the subject, saying, “Let me take you home.”

Ji Mingshu nodded, picked up her handbag, and stood up.

The music in the French restaurant was still ethereal and soothing, and the lighting was still very atmospheric.

One hour, forty-three minutes, and thirty seconds.

Cen Sen sat not far away, lowered his wrist, and expressionlessly took a sip of coffee.

At this time of year, the Christmas atmosphere is strong everywhere. The French restaurant also had a Christmas tree, and Christmas snowflakes were pasted on the windows. Only Cen Sen sat alone in the corner, completely out of place with the joyful, lively atmosphere.

Watching Cen Yang and Ji Mingshu leave the restaurant, he also slowly stood up.

Today, he had driven himself, without giving advance notice, intending to go directly to Star Harbor International to pick up Ji Mingshu for dinner and a movie. He hadn’t expected to see her taking a taxi downstairs.

On the way there, he had followed the taxi carrying Ji Mingshu from a distance. Now, as they left, he again followed the white Mercedes ahead from afar.

The delayed first snow began to fall.

He drove with the window open, seemingly unable to feel the cold winter wind.