Wen Yin watched Director Li coolly as his face drained from green to white, his eyes finally skittering to the man standing behind her.
"Director Li."
She hadn't turned. The single comment she'd made earlier had been enough—she already knew who had come.
Shao Yinan strode to stand between them, his presence all pressure and precision.
"Director Li just suggested that Wen Yin abandon her own designs and hand them over to someone else?" His voice was a blade. Shao’s whole air sharpened; his black eyes held a cold edge that made it hard to breathe.
Wen Yin folded her arms and stared at the trembling director, waiting for him to explain.
"Mr. Shao, you misunderstand—" Director Li's voice trembled. Sweat beaded on his temple; he looked like a man who'd been pulled out of water and left shivering on the floor.
"Whether Director Li meant that or not," Shao continued, voice low and dangerous, "if this collaboration proceeds without Wen Yin—" He paused, then finished with sharper certainty, "then the Shaohua–Qili cooperation will be halted as well."
A faint, knowing smile flickered on his face. "I'm sure you understand what that would mean, Director Li."
Those words were a threat dressed in velvet. Director Li's knees went weak. He was only a mid-level director—this level of responsibility was beyond him.
He bowed his head, resentment and fear flashing across his face. Damn that little— that woman.
Wen Yin and Shao walked out of the conference room side by side. Because of his status, Shao had worn a mask when they entered; only after the door clicked shut did he finally relax and pull it off.
Wen Yin carried two cups of water, as if it were the most ordinary thing for him to be here. She set one down in front of him and sat.
"You drew beautifully," Shao said, lips curling as he lifted the designs. His eyes gleamed.
"How did you get here?" Wen Yin smiled, amused. She tucked her hair behind her ear and took a sip.
"Officially? As a collaborator." He drank slowly, a soft smile warming his features. Shao always looked so composed around her—like the distant, cool persona everyone saw was only a mask.
He didn't take his gaze off her. For a few seconds they simply looked at each other, and Wen Yin felt herself lose the contest first. Shao's almond-shaped eyes were disarmingly gentle; the intensity of his stare felt almost magnetic.
"So," she said, propping her chin on her hand, relaxed. "Should I call you 'Shao, the top star' or 'Young Master Shao'?"
He laughed—just a little—and something like sunlight softened his expression. "Call me whatever makes you happy, Ayin."
His tone was playful, intimate. Anyone who knew him well would recognize this as a rare sign that he was in a good mood.
Wen Yin was surprised to hear him admit it so casually. The Shao family wasn't the same as her own: they were on par with the Qis—one of those top-tier dynasties that couldn't be compared to an ordinary home. Rumors about Shao Yinan had circulated for years in the circles she had moved in.
"Shao, the top idol, has been spotless since debut; everyone says his background is clean and he rose on his own," people said. "Some even claimed he came from an ordinary family." "No scandals, no exposed relatives—everything about him seemed carefully guarded."
Now, looking at the composed, aristocratic man before her, Wen Yin suspected that Shao had intentionally kept his family hidden when he entered the industry. He'd sealed the past away.
"When are you going back to inherit a billion-dollar estate?" she teased.
Shao rested his chin on his hand as if she’d asked the most serious question in the world. "I'll have to think about that."
They both smiled. Time passed; Shao checked his watch and rose. "It's late. I have to go meet Qili’s CEO."
Wen Yin nodded; fresh ideas for her designs were already coalescing in her mind. Shao reached out his hand.
His palm was warm, dry, sure. "Pleasure working with you, Designer Wen," he said.
This was their first time collaborating with Shao acknowledging her role as the designer.
Wen Yin placed her soft hand in his. Heat spread from his palm into her own, and she couldn't help the curve of her mouth. "Pleasure working with you, Mr. Shao."
"But since you know," she added, looking up at him, eyes bright and steady, "this stays between us."
"Of course." He met her gaze and gave a small nod.
That week Qili had a packed schedule. As a rookie designer, Wen Yin was not only finalizing the Shaohua pieces but also preparing for Qili’s next collection. There was a product showcase on Friday night.
She and JiuJiu arrived early and went backstage to help other designers with last-minute checks.
"Wen Yin, you really suit this world—you're practically glowing," JiuJiu gushed. Wen Yin wore a restrained black gown that hugged her figure; tasteful jewelry accentuated her look. The contrast between the dark fabric and her pale neck, her glossy black hair, made every smile more luminous.
Wen Yin ruffled JiuJiu's hair. "Focus. Time's tight."
JiuJiu—dressed in a pink tulle dress—was lively and eager, if inexperienced. When Wen Yin nudged her, she just stuck out her tongue and started checking makeup lists and fitting notes.
Designers hustled around them, checking models' makeup and timing, making sure everything was in place.
A shrill voice suddenly pierced the hum from the next room, sharp and insulted. "What do you mean—? Do you think I'm gracing you with my presence? What kind of attitude is this? Small brands are small brands!"
JiuJiu blinked. "What was that?"
Wen Yin, composed as ever, glanced toward the adjoining door. "The models' lounge, I think."
The voices grew louder and more agitated. Curiosity tugged at them both; they moved toward the door to see what drama was unfolding next.