Ji Mingshu laboriously finished the remaining half of her ice cream, her cheeks puffed up like a little pufferfish. Shivering from the cold while looking at her phone, she hurriedly rushed back to the apartment.
Cen Sen sat in his car, his gaze following her slow movement. Only after she entered the building did he slightly withdraw his gaze and step out of the car.
He leaned against the vehicle, looking up at a certain small window upstairs that once again emitted a faint glow. Suddenly recalling how Ji Mingshu had just been sitting on the stone bench earnestly eating oden, his eyes unconsciously deepened.
His golden canary seemed to have quietly opened the cage and was now peeking out at the doorway.
Ji Mingshu had already cast aside that momentary strange sensation. Back at the apartment, she rubbed her hands and arms, involuntarily shuddering from the cold.
But her spirits were high. Throwing on a jacket, she sat back at the computer, secretly putting on Gu Kaiyang’s black-rimmed glasses, and quickly entered a working state.
Chris Chou was born in a small southern city. His father was a painter, and his mother was a famous Shanghai socialite from the late last century. Their union was considered a case of the woman marrying down. But his father gained fame in middle age, his wealth skyrocketed, and his paintings sold well both domestically and internationally. In the Sotheby’s autumn auction of the 1990s, his painting “Paper Drunk Gold Dream” fetched a sky-high price of nearly ten million.
So when Chris Chou was just over ten years old, his father took the whole family to immigrate to LA for long-term development.
To this day, their family has indeed become a renowned presence in the North American Chinese community.
Chris Chou himself was also outstanding, considered one of the most dazzling new stars in the fashion circle in recent years.
He was a very typical academic designer, having graduated from Parsons. During his school years, he had interned at luxury brands under the LVMH group and America’s most authoritative fashion magazine. After graduation, he worked at the LVMH group, later resigning to create his namesake brand. In the second year, he held a show at New York Fashion Week, and subsequently, his runway shows spread across the four major fashion weeks, receiving good reviews and steadily increasing sales.
The color block T-shirts he designed exploded on FB and Instagram two years ago, and fashion influencers and bloggers around the world each owned at least one. In annual fashion magazine selections, his color block T-shirts were generally voted as the most popular street photography item. Ji Mingshu had directly purchased the entire series back then.
This time, he returned to China for a show because of the strong invitation and multi-party sponsorship support from institutions like the Fashion Design Association. Moreover, he believed that this season’s designs needed to be presented on the soil where he had lived as a child to achieve the most fitting effect.
Before looking at the relevant materials in detail, Ji Mingshu was very surprised and confused about Junyi Huazhang being the venue for the big show. While going upstairs, she even had the thought, “Could Cen Sen have arranged this?”
After all, there were many suitable venues for shows in the capital, so why specifically arrange it at Junyi Huazhang, a hotel with extremely high venue rent?
After reading the materials, her confusion dissipated considerably. The relevant sponsoring units were wealthy, and their executives all had intricate connections with Jing Construction. Following the principle of keeping resources within the family, choosing Junyi Huazhang was quite reasonable.
Moreover, the Huazhang Hotel on Huating Road had four buildings, with a glass water pavilion and a grassy open space in the middle that could be used for exhibitions. From the perspective of venue size and showroom arrangements, it was very suitable.
But at Junyi…
Wouldn’t that seem like she was looking for trouble? Would Cen Sen misunderstand this as her actively seeking reconciliation?
Ji Mingshu thought for a while at the computer, resting her chin in her hand, but eventually replied to Chris Chou.
There was no choice; the opportunity was too rare, and she simply couldn’t give it up.
Chris Chou had worked with Ji Mingshu before and had confidence in her. Once she responded with an OK, he didn’t request a trial draft and directly confirmed. The two chatted online for a while and then arranged a time to meet and discuss details.
Before a show is released, a designer’s works are in a highly confidential state, and only the designer can personally negotiate with her.
And after showing her the relevant design drafts and design concepts, they would have to take everything back.
This meeting was directly scheduled at Junyi Huazhang, and Ji Mingshu couldn’t object because Chris Chou was staying at Huazhang during his return to China. After their chat, they would still need to view the actual venue. This meeting location was very suitable.
Before leaving, Ji Mingshu anxiously changed outfits several times. After arriving at the hotel’s executive lounge, she seemed somewhat restless, fearing that Cen Sen might suddenly appear from some corner, and they would end up in an awkward staring contest that would pierce through the earth’s core.
But facts proved that she was overthinking.
This meeting lasted from 2:00 PM to 6:00 PM. Chris Chou even enthusiastically invited her to dine at the hotel, and Cen Sen never showed up.
Of course, Junyi had many hotels, and his regular office was at the headquarters building. How could he coincidentally appear here?
On the way back, Ji Mingshu couldn’t tell if she felt disappointed or relieved. Her lipstick had worn off by half, but she wasn’t in the mood to reapply it.
For the entire week after this, Ji Mingshu was busy working on her runway plan in the apartment, and she was particularly impartial and professional about it.
Gu Kaiyang’s magazine was very interested in Chris Chou’s big show, but Ji Mingshu stubbornly refused to reveal any relevant information to the deputy editor-in-chief. She hugged her computer like a thief every day, beautifully calling it upholding professional ethics.
Gu Kaiyang was so angry that she grabbed Ji Mingshu’s neck and shook her frantically, saying she would clean up, pack, and sweep this heartless woman out the door.
Ji Mingshu was naturally unafraid, because after accepting this design job, she had money!
The level of fashion design in China was still in a state of long exploration, especially in the high-end fashion design sector. It was not easy for Chinese designers to gain international recognition. For someone of Chris Chou’s caliber to return to China for a show, relevant institutions naturally provided full support.
The runway budget Chris Chou offered reached eight figures, and not starting with small numbers like one or two.
Compared to the regular post-show sales to the public, spending money on a show like this could be considered as not counting the cost.
To create a runway worth eight figures, Ji Mingshu’s remuneration as a collaborative designer was naturally very generous.
However, this generous payment wasn’t easy to earn.
Just for the design plan, Ji Mingshu and Chris Chou worked tirelessly for an entire week.
After the plan was finalized and entered the stage of actual setup, Ji Mingshu had to personally supervise on site.
“No, a bit to the left, more to the left… enough, enough!”
The capital had already entered early winter, and the outdoor wind was bitterly cold, cutting like a knife when it blew.
Although Ji Mingshu wasn’t a celebrity, she had cultivated the same “style over warmth” attitude as female stars. In the near-zero temperature, she wore only a thin black off-shoulder sweater with a light camel-colored windbreaker over it. Her long, white, delicate fingers were exposed, the knuckles reddened from the cold.
This was her fourth consecutive day directing the runway setup at the Huazhang Hotel on Huating Road.
Although Chris Chou was Chinese, his style had always been very Western. This time, he had unusually incorporated cheongsam and Su embroidery elements into his works. Firstly, this was to commercially cater to the vast Chinese market beyond design, and secondly, it was to give his mother a birthday surprise.
His mother had lived in Shanghai for many years and loved various cheongsams when she was young. His early spring collection this season could also be seen as a tribute to his mother.
Learning that his parents had been loving for many years, Ji Mingshu had specially studied his father’s art collection before deciding on the runway theme.
The final theme, “Paper Drunk Gold Dream,” was also in response to his father’s most famous oil painting of the same name.
Ji Mingshu designed the main runway as a stranded ship from old Shanghai. The hotel’s original water pavilion and steps were preserved, slightly processed, and layered to extend to the top of the ship, becoming the main runway for the models to walk on.
Additionally, to create an immersive sensory experience for the audience, Ji Mingshu collaborated with Chris Chou to design an immersive image art installation with the same name as the runway theme, creating a fully enclosed visual space outdoors at Junyi.
Ji Mingshu also put a lot of effort into the lighting. To achieve the gorgeous effect in the design draft and highlight the runway theme, a series of lights were specially ordered and air-shipped back from a foreign lighting designer. Just these lighting setups alone cost several million in funds.
At this moment, Ji Mingshu was also directing the lighting setup. These things were incredibly precious and couldn’t afford any mishaps. She wouldn’t allow the expensively acquired items to be placed in inappropriate positions.
“Move A1 to A4. C1’s position is wrong, it’s not accurate at all. Please reinstall it.” She directed from the cold wind. Seeing that the workers still couldn’t install it correctly after a long time, she had to step forward herself. “Here, yes, yes, a tiny bit more to the left.”
Seeing that the position was correct, she stepped back to observe.
Before she could nod in satisfaction, the worker’s expression suddenly turned fearful. “Look out!”
Before he finished speaking, there was a sound of a crystal lamp shattering on the ground where Ji Mingshu was standing. After a “bang,” there were also dense, crisp cracks.
The scene immediately erupted with successive exclamations!
Ji Mingshu’s mind went blank for a moment. Before she could react to what had happened, someone pulled her forcefully.
She was wearing 10-centimeter-thin high heels, and with such a tug, her ankle almost simultaneously transmitted a pain that made her vision darken.
Soon, there was another loud shattering sound! But the next second, her ears were covered by someone, and her head was also tucked into an embrace.
More distinct than that loud noise, she heard the heartbeat of the chest she was pressed against.
Thump, thump, thump.
Powerful and familiar.
In the biting wind of early winter, she smelled the reassuring scent of cold fir.
Her nose tip was bright red from the cold, but her eyes were unblinking, as if in a daze, or as if indulging in the moment.
Cen Sen’s bodyguards rushed up immediately, and the executives accompanying Cen Sen’s inspection urgently called staff to handle the scene and came forward with solicitous inquiries.
“Chairman Cen, are you alright?”
“Oh my, Chairman Cen, your hand is bleeding!”
“Quick, quick, call an ambulance!”
Someone twisted around and shouted in a low voice: “What ambulance? He wasn’t hit!”
After a good while, Cen Sen calmly responded: “I’m fine.”
He was still holding Ji Mingshu tightly, not even raising his eyes.
Zhou Jiaheng stood below, composing himself while putting on a calm appearance to request that the executives leave the scene.
Only after everyone had left did Ji Mingshu slightly come to her senses.
She gently pushed, and Cen Sen accordingly loosened his grip.
Today, he was wearing a black woolen coat, which made his skin appear almost transparently white. His hand hung down, and blood mixed with shattered glass dripped onto the deliberately aged ship deck, looking distressingly stark.
Ji Mingshu was somewhat at a loss, and only after a moment did she think to untie the decorative silk scarf from her bag and offer it to him.
He didn’t take it, but instead extended his hand in front of her, his gaze expressionless.
She paused slightly, hesitantly placing the silk scarf over his wound, then hesitantly tying a knot.
—The two finally arrived at the awkward staring contest scene that Ji Mingshu had long anticipated, a moment that could pierce through the earth’s core.
She forced herself to meet Cen Sen’s gaze. After a long while, she suddenly blurted out, “My silk scarf was very expensive.”
“And… the lamp was very expensive too. What should we do now that it’s broken?”
After speaking, Ji Mingshu resignedly closed her eyes, wishing she could go back ten seconds to sew her mouth shut.
But just as she closed her eyes, a clear male voice suddenly sounded in front of her: “I’ll compensate you.”