Chapter 16: Short Liqun

The dormitory manager sent another photo of Chi Lanyi to Gao Rong.

In the photo, Chi Lanyi was carrying a bag of clothes, walking out of the apartment building, dejected.

He had changed into a high-collared white sweater. Gao Rong, cigarette between his fingers, coldly watched Chi Lanyi’s figure in the photo.

Chi Lanyi had carried this bag of clothes out, walked a long way, and thrown them into a distant trash can—as if these clothes hid some secret that Chi Lanyi couldn’t bear to face.

Gao Rong didn’t know what those secrets were exactly; he only instinctively realized that the secret might be related to his “confession” to Chi Lanyi.

He looked at his computer. It was increasingly filled with photos of Chi Lanyi. The computer held Chi Lanyi’s ID photo, Chi Lanyi’s life photos from the past decade, and the recent photos taken by all the helpers he had hired to follow and photograph Chi Lanyi.

There were so many photos it seemed his office had become a silent museum of Chi Lanyi. Countless images of Chi Lanyi, shyly, silently, panickedly, dodging his gaze.

And he would eventually fall into Gao Rong’s control.

The weak Seven Stars were finished. Gao Rong began smoking the harsh, spicy Short Liqun, seeming as if only such a flavor could suppress his increasingly surging impulses.

—For instance, right now, he wanted to grab Chi Lanyi’s nonchalant chin, take a deep drag, and then exhale the acrid smoke into Chi Lanyi’s mouth.

After calming down, Gao Rong called the business representative of that luxury goods group, proposing to attend the mood board critique session of the incubator project.

This was the first task output for the incubator project—designing the mood board.

A designer notes down their core inspiration, color palette, fabric, and texture on a mood board. Creating a mood board is the first step of fashion design; it helps designers transform intangible inspiration into a tangible bridge.

Chi Lanyi needed to learn to communicate with the corporate mentors during this phase until his final mood board was confirmed. In this process, he would inevitably express his thoughts, describe his memories, and unearth his emotions.

Gao Rong believed he must appear at this event. He wanted to know what Chi Lanyi was thinking right now.

More than Chi Lanyi’s design concepts or aesthetic ideas, Gao Rong wanted to know something else.

He wanted to know if his own invasion had claimed a place within Chi Lanyi’s designs.

“I will win.” Gao Rong thought indifferently, smoking. “Chi Lanyi, you’re only 19. How could you possibly beat me?”

“Sooner or later, you will be my possession.”

He thought of Chi Lanyi, also wondering what exactly Chi Lanyi had been doing.

Time slipped by quickly. Soon, it was Saturday afternoon.

…

Chi Lanyi had been restless for an entire week.

He cut his hand in Garment Construction class, got distracted by the lines of the dress form in Draping class, and couldn’t focus on the temperature of color cards in Textiles class.

He received an invitation from his teacher to exhibit at Atelier Rivière. For this exhibition, he needed to complete five more pieces within two months. But Chi Lanyi was too anxious; he used up all his materials and was left with only a pile of failed works.

In such a state, creating the mood board became an even greater mental burden. Fortunately, Chi Lanyi managed to finish it on time. After it was done, Chi Lanyi felt a bit dazed, as if his soul was floating in the sky.

He didn’t even want to look at the board again. After taking photos, he rushed off to the lecture hall. This week, he had messed up too many things; at least today, he didn’t want to be late.

Chi Lanyi arrived very early. It wasn’t until ten minutes later that students started to trickle in. Fang Heng arrived first after him. Seeing Chi Lanyi there early, he seemed slightly friendlier than last time: “Hello.”

Chi Lanyi forced a greeting, then lowered his head again. Fang Heng glanced at him and said nothing more.

The others arrived too—the corridor suddenly bustling with noise and activity. That Caucasian guy, Theo, presented first. Before entering the lecture hall, he lifted his chin and glanced sideways at Fang Heng, acting as if Fang Heng were his arch-rival.

Fang Heng couldn’t be bothered with him. Soon after, Theo came out proudly and said amiably to Fang Heng: “Hey, Fang Heng, I finished my presentation. Wishing you a smooth presentation too. I imagine you’ve prepared something great as well, right? Mind letting me see it too?”

Facing his confident attitude, Fang Heng merely tightened his jaw coldly: “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m that eager for your evaluation.”

Theo had asked for a snub. As if needing to save face, he targeted the quietest student in the corridor: “Chi Lanyi, I’m also very curious to see what kind of mood board a sophomore could produce, you know?”

It took Chi Lanyi a long moment before he slowly looked at Theo.

Theo’s smile froze. Fang Heng was one thing, but what was Chi Lanyi to give him this kind of attitude?

He snorted and sat on the other side. Solene, meanwhile, hugged her laptop and went in to present.

Her design style was elegantly restrained, an academic school of beauty, completely different from Theo’s flamboyant, dramatic, emotionally expressive style, and also possessing a touch more minimalist purity than Fang Heng’s structurally strong, technically proficient approach.

Solene was Theo’s competitor in the same year; Theo was already intimately familiar with her style and didn’t expect any innovation from Solene.

All things considered, the only wildcard here for him was Chi Lanyi. After a long while, Theo still couldn’t suppress his curiosity. He quietly asked Fang Heng: “What exactly is that Chi Lanyi’s design style like, the one sitting over there? He looks so gloomy…”

Fang Heng said coolly: “Why don’t you go ask him yourself?”

Rebuffed by Fang Heng again, Theo felt a bit unable to keep face. He glanced at Chi Lanyi’s dejected expression and said deliberately: “Forget it, look at his listless state, what good could he possibly produce?”

The door opened, and Solene returned to the corridor. Her eyes were slightly red, but she was trying hard to remain calm.

The mentor inside said: “Next.”

Chi Lanyi acted as if he hadn’t heard Theo’s sarcasm at all. He hugged his backpack and silently walked in.

The vast presentation hall was dark and oppressive. Chi Lanyi didn’t even look at who each person in the audience was. He took out his laptop and started projecting with a complete lack of energy—a look that said he just wanted to leave quickly.

The few mentors were still discussing Solene’s presentation and hadn’t noticed the quiet Chi Lanyi. However, the moment Chi Lanyi’s mood board was displayed on the big screen, all discussion was cut off.

Silence.

Prolonged silence.

Chi Lanyi stood to the side with his head lowered. He was still absent-minded, just like a distracted child, not even noticing that the mentors had stopped speaking.

Until one mentor softly spoke.

“Can you tell me… why your creation is so extreme, so personal?”