Wen Yin couldn't help but flick Jiu Jiu lightly on the head at the girl's irresistible expression.
"Your piece is very good—definitely your style."
At the compliment, Jiu Jiu's eyes turned to stars. "Thank you, Wen Yin-jie."
They laughed together a while longer, then each drifted off to finish the last details of their own work.
By evening, as the new collection show approached, Jiu Jiu watched Wen Yin with a little worry. Wen Yin's face looked paler than usual.
"Wen Yin-jie, are you all right? You still have a recording tomorrow," she murmured. "The company's always holding launches on Friday nights—how can you handle it?"
Wen Yin gave a reassuring smile and a small shake of the head to indicate she was fine. Jiu Jiu let the matter drop.
The lights dimmed. Except for the runway, the hall sank into shadow. As spotlights swept and settled, they finally fell on a single model standing dead center. Music rose; the models moved with confidence, each garment revealing the designer’s touch.
Shen Ziying sat among the audience behind thick black-framed glasses and a baseball cap pulled low. The frames hid most of her face; the cap hid the rest. Only those very close to her would recognize her. She thought back angrily to Wen Yin’s showy behavior at her factory a few days ago. That country girl—did she think she could ride Shao Yinan's favor to dazzle everyone?
She felt a prickle of indignation. In the company’s recent line-up, Wen Yin’s designs had been the ones to shine. There was no way she would be beaten by a bumpkin.
The final act took the runway.
The lighting intentionally grew darker, leaving a single elegant silhouette against the backlight—features obscured, only a graceful silhouette visible: a curving figure, a cinched waist. The lights lingered and then dropped, one by one, onto the dress.
What had been an ordinary qipao slowly began to gleam.
The dress was cut from the finest Hangzhou gauze, an ebony sheet that hugged and flowed. What made it remarkable, however, was the embroidery—Lu embroidery, the old Shandong technique carefully revived stitch by stitch. Lotus blossoms seemed to bloom out of the dark fabric as the lights woke them, each petal catching the glow like lilies emerging from a midnight marsh.
The needlework was so delicate, so painstaking, that murmurs of astonishment rippled through the seats.
"I didn't expect to see Lu embroidery used like this."
"If I'm not mistaken, that method has been lost for ages."
"Whoever designed this is something else."
The praise echoed and nested in Shen Ziying’s ears like ice. Her nostrils flared. What right did a mere embroidery have to steal all this attention? She could do it, she would do it—why did everyone rally to Wen Yin as if the woman had cast some spell?
What she refused to see was that each of those lotus blossoms had cost Wen Yin countless nights—stitches made through exhaustion, several all-nighters just to finish those petals. This week, to meet the launch, Wen Yin had slept in fits and starts.
Backstage Wen Yin heard the applause and the whispers, and Jiu Jiu was practically trembling with excitement. "Wen Yin-jie, you're on fire! Just now, a few people asked about collaborating with you. They called you a rising talent!"
Jiu Jiu’s voice grew more animated the more she spoke; seeing Wen Yin succeed made her happier than any accolade for herself.
Wen Yin smiled faintly, eyes steady and calm—like a clear pool that nothing disturbed. Tonight’s debut would lift her profile another notch.
After the show came the usual business dinner. Wen Yin sat quietly in a corner, a glass of red wine in hand, returning polite smiles to those who came to speak. The stretch of sleepless days had finally loosened the taut string inside her; she felt, for the first time in hours, a loosened exhale.
A pair of polished shoes appeared in front of her and a familiar deep voice asked, "May I have a drink with you, beautiful lady?" The low timbre wrapped around her like a blanket of safety.
"Shao Yinan…" The name slipped out with a trace of tremor she didn't notice—whether from relief or exhaustion she couldn't tell.
Shao Yinan had intended only to say hello, but the sight of the dark shadows under her eyes made him realize just how hard she'd pushed herself for the collection. The soft lift at the corners of his almond-shaped eyes flattened; his lips tightened. Those who knew him could read the shift—he was not pleased.
He sat beside her without a word. "Pulled a few all-nighters?" he asked softly. Then, with an almost invisible movement, he felt her lean against his shoulder and close her eyes. Her breathing eased into a steady slow rhythm in a matter of seconds.
Shao Yinan gave a small, helpless smile that never reached the tautness at the edges of his face. He had not expected Wen Yin—his A-Yin—to sacrifice herself like this. Something complicated and protective rose in him. After a quick word with the company, he picked her up and carried her out.
How long she slept, Wen Yin didn't know. When she finally opened her eyes she found herself in an unfamiliar room, stripped back to a minimalist palette of black, white, and gray—even the sheets were ash-colored. The darkness of the room made her feel oddly alone. Her fingers curled around the blanket as she tried to piece together how she'd come to be there.
She remembered leaning against Shao Yinan and feeling safe enough to rest. That memory steadied her. She swung the covers aside and tried to sit up.
"Where are you going?"
A familiar voice asked from the doorway, and Wen Yin turned to a broad, slightly blurred silhouette. Shao Yinan had returned. He walked slowly into the room as though reading the quiet.
Wen Yin sat half up on the bed, watching him approach, relief and something else pressed against her ribs. He stopped at the bedside and bent slightly; his breath warmed the air between them.
Her eyelashes fluttered. As his face drew closer, the details—his jawline, the line of his mouth—filled her vision. They came nearer and nearer, until even their breaths might mingle. A sudden flush of heat spread through her, inexplicable in the cool room.
It should have been chilly tonight, and yet everything around her felt suddenly, impossibly warm.