Wen Zeru hummed and took the bag from Wen Yin’s hand, hanging it to the side.
Wen Yin’s father seemed to notice something, and his head turned toward her. “You’re back?”
He repeated it once more, his gaze flat and indifferent, as if she were a stranger with no connection to him at all.
Wen Yin gave him a small nod. “Father.”
He said nothing further; the chill in his eyes didn’t thaw. “Dinner will be ready soon.”
Wen Zeru patted her shoulder as if to reassure her. Don’t mind him.
Wen Yin didn’t need convincing. After two lives, she’d long since seen her father for what he was. Father-daughter feelings? That was a pretense that had long ago fallen away.
The New Year’s Eve meal went without incident, and afterward Wen Yin retreated to her room. The Shao family banquet was still in full swing downstairs, and the house was noisy. She glanced at her phone and couldn’t help smiling at the stream of messages from Shao Yinan.
[Shao Yinan: Ayin, I’m bored.]
[Shao Yinan: Seeing Shao Qi is annoying.]
[Shao Yinan: Shao Yuanjia is being a handful too.]
[Shao Yinan: That clingy pest won’t be there tonight either, right?]
That last message had been sent five minutes earlier. Wen Yin was about to reply to each one when another ping arrived.
[Shao Yinan: I knew it.]
Her smile widened; she almost laughed out loud. No one would suspect that the cool, distant top idol adored by millions was a complete softie when it came to his partner. The image was too delightful.
She began answering him one by one, and his replies came nearly instantly. When they worked at home together before, Wen Yin hadn’t realized just how attentive he could be. It wasn’t long before he called, video popping up on her screen. He seemed to be standing in a quiet corner; from his frame she could hear the muffled hum of conversation from downstairs.
“Ayin.”
“Happy?” he asked, watching her face like he was reading her mood.
He always paid attention to these things. He knew about the fragile truce between Wen Yin and her father. He knew the line between them could splinter at any time.
Wen Yin rolled onto her side on the bed. “It’s fine.” No Wen Zhi making a scene tonight, no household squabbles—small mercies. Her brother looked after her well. At the very least, things in the Wen household weren’t as cold as they used to be.
Shao Yinan nodded. They traded a few more words, and then someone called to him from offscreen. “Ayin, happy new year.”
He cast a quick glance in the direction of the voice but didn’t hurry away. The last time Wen Yin had been half asleep, she’d heard only his voice; now she was fully awake and watching him. His eyes—dark as polished onyx—held that indulgent softness that made it easy to fall into them.
She felt herself smile in response; her own eyes curved up like a deer’s. “Happy New Year, Shao Yinan.”
—-
The holiday was brief. Wen Yin plunged back into work almost immediately. Shaohua’s new collection was scheduled to debut on February 18th—the first week after the festival. They’d poured a lot into this line. Shao Yuanjia had flooded the media with press releases about the project’s concept and had raised N.A.’s profile so high that expectations were through the roof. The topic trended constantly.
“When is it officially coming out? I can’t wait!”
“Ayin’s new work! I’m so excited!”
“Proof my idol does everything—actor, designer, model freakin’ boss.”
Wen Yin placed the finished necklace on a model and took a step back to examine it from across the studio. N.A. was ready. This launch could take her to a whole new level.
On the night of the launch, Wen Yin barely touched the ground. Between checking models, overseeing hair and makeup, and fine-tuning the feel she wanted each look to convey, she left little rest for herself. This was not an ordinary show; Shaohua and Wen Yin’s reputation were both on the line.
She chose a champagne-colored evening gown that allowed her to move freely, her long hair—seaweed dark and glossy—pinned up casually with pins. When Shao Yinan found her, Wen Yin was tying up the final loose ends.
“Ayin.”
The sound of his voice made her eyes light up. She finished the last task and hurried to him, taking his offered hand. “Thanks for coming.”
Shao Yinan’s gaze traveled to the faint bruise by her eye—evidence of how much she’d sacrificed for this half-year of work. She brushed it off with a shake of her head and curled her fingers around his, sitting beside him on a sofa.
“It wasn’t hard,” she said. “This is my labor of love.”
He tightened his hold on her hand, fingers idly twisting her smooth white knuckles. She didn’t yet know the whole truth: this project had been tailored for her from the start. She was the sole creative director—no one else would have a claim. He’d made sure of it.
The venue was impressive. Designers from rival brands were in attendance, and Shao Yuanjia had invited several heavyweight fashion journalists. Every detail shouted prestige. Shao Yuanjia watched Shao Yinan from across the room and let a dark thought curl in his mind. What of being a private son? So what? Shao Yuanjia’s ambitions were growing teeth; Shaohua wasn’t enough. He wanted more of the Shao family’s empire.
The lights dimmed and a single spotlight outlined the runway. Then, as the music swelled, stage lights burst, illuminating a slender, striking back. The moment the model turned, the hall fell silent.
Beautiful. It was the only word that fit.
The black strappy gown looked tailor-made to her, sculpting every curve and accentuating a lithe waist. A dark red rose, already half-withered, clung to her chest, echoing the deep crimson of her lips. Her carriage was that of someone used to command.
But it was the diamond necklace around her neck that stole the show. The chain—platinum—was composed of two linked circles bridged by a strand of tiny pavé diamonds, and set at the center was a near-perfect white diamond. It caught the light and seemed to pulse with the model’s movement.
Then the cameras realized something odd: even when the model stopped, the center diamond still seemed to beat, as if it had a life of its own.
A flash—then another. The sound of shutters filled the room as reporters and photographers seized the shot. They knew what they had captured: an N.A. piece.
The first look closed to roaring applause. That gown and that necklace had pushed the evening’s energy to a fever pitch; everything that followed paled in comparison.
#N.A Eternal Beat# shot straight to the top of the trending list.