Chi Lanyi was puzzled. “These aren’t mine…”
“They’re from the brand you usually wear. Considering you’d be staying here a few nights, I prepared a change of clothes for you. Try them,” Gao Rong said.
The clothes were in Chi Lanyi’s size, in the blacks, whites, and grays he usually favored. Chi Lanyi put on the jacket, feeling the fabric fall over him like flowing water. Very elegant, very beautiful.
“I’ll have the driver take you to school in a regular car. Later, I’ll go myself,” Gao Rong told him. “It wouldn’t look good for you if we showed up in the same car in front of your classmates.” As if adding an explanation, he said, “After all, I’m also an investor in your Incubator Project.”
“…I don’t mind,” Chi Lanyi said quietly. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” He glanced at Gao Rong. “You haven’t done anything wrong either.”
Chi Lanyi’s eyes, trusting and innocent, were like a newborn kitten’s. Gao Rong fell silent for a moment at that gaze, then said, “Be good and listen.”
“Oh.” After saying this one word, Chi Lanyi didn’t argue further.
He went downstairs ahead of Gao Rong and sat at the dining table. Watching his profile by the window, Gao Rong thought to himself that Chi Lanyi really was a fragile Freesia, easily withered. Once he broke down, he trusted. Once he trusted, he relied completely. And once he relied, he threw all other voices behind him. Even if those voices had once been the ones Chi Lanyi cared about most.
Gao Rong sat opposite Chi Lanyi, drinking a cup of coffee. He mused that a delicate plant like Chi Lanyi needed water, sunlight, and a greenhouse. Someone who hated Chi Lanyi could easily crush his leaves, but couldn’t break him. Yet someone Chi Lanyi loved only needed to nudge the flower lightly, and Chi Lanyi would instantly wither.
Gao Rong couldn’t help but wonder if they had ever had such beautiful afternoons in their past life. Just like in their past life, Chi Lanyi had never clung to a bolt of fabric and wept against him because of a studio at home. Actually, there probably had been such moments, maybe many. After all, they’d been together for twelve years in that life. Yet in this instant, Gao Rong realized he was trying to convince himself that their past life never had afternoons like this. That this afternoon in this life was brand, brand new, unprecedented. So he sat here, thinking of the metaphor of Chi Lanyi and the plant, watching the 19-year-old drink coffee, finally able to feel at peace.
In the afternoon, Chi Lanyi still had to leave. He was reluctant, spending a long time just getting out of the foyer before finally getting into the driver’s car unwillingly. But his reluctance was soft, like the first snowflake at the start of winter, landing so lightly, melting so easily. Sitting in the car, he leaned out the window and asked Gao Rong, “Will you set off after I leave? How many minutes after? When will you get to the school?”
Gao Rong glanced at his watch and answered, “About ten minutes.”
Chi Lanyi furrowed his delicate brows. “Does it need to be that long? Since the meeting is at 3:30, if we both arrive around then, that should be… fine, right?” He was practically making unreasonable demands, like a cat whose fur had been brushed the wrong way. Gao Rong almost laughed. “Be good. Listen to me.”
“Oh.” Chi Lanyi fell silent, but after a moment, still said, “I don’t think it makes much sense.”
Gao Rong had him roll down the window. Facing Chi Lanyi’s upturned face, he paused, then leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “That’s enough. Don’t keep clinging on,” Gao Rong said. “In ten minutes, I’ll drive over. Take your display board and head to the department building yourself. If you can’t carry it, let the driver help you.” At his words, Chi Lanyi’s face immediately flushed red. “I… I wasn’t clinging on…” His voice was small, like he’d been stepped on. Then he buried his head against the window frame. He really was like a child, none of the thin, elegant poise he had in front of others, like a line drawing.
Seeing him utterly mortified, Gao Rong didn’t tease him further, just said, “Alright, get going.”
“…” After a long, muffled moment, Chi Lanyi said, “Then drive safely… Drive safely, okay?” He said it once, then even repeated it. Seeing this, Gao Rong felt something lighthearted in his chest. It was like a kindergartener thinking they were taking care of a preschooler.
He watched Chi Lanyi’s car until it disappeared from sight. Then he stood outside without going in. Ten minutes later, he had another driver drive him away. The car started, heading toward F University.
Fifteen years since his rebirth, Gao Rong had ridden in cars countless times. So even though his previous life ended in a car crash, he had gotten used to this confined space in this life. After all, in modern society, doing business and going to school, how could one avoid riding in cars? Yet today, sitting alone, he felt an overall discomfort. Logically, he’d already bought a car with a huge cabin, enough to keep physical discomfort to a minimum. After some thought, he concluded he was probably worried the car wasn’t safe. His cars were regularly inspected and had routine maintenance checks. Theoretically, it was foolproof.
Gao Rong had never worried about a car before. Now, the moment he got in, he started worrying. After thinking it over, he arranged for his secretary to send the car for another inspection in the next few days, with more frequent maintenance checks afterward. He told himself, this lifetime, he absolutely could not let his life be cut short by such a freak safety accident.
When he got out of the car, the driver who’d taken Chi Lanyi sent a message saying he had entered the department building. Gao Rong looked down at the chat app. Chi Lanyi’s dialogue box was silent, empty. Also true to form. Chi Lanyi wasn’t used to expressing himself online. He barely spoke offline, let alone online. But he could be quite clingy with those closest to him, that was true across both lifetimes.
He suddenly thought about the “past life.” Gao Rong frowned, like he’d accidentally swallowed a fly or stepped on something sticky on the street. He told himself not to think about it. Chi Lanyi was already successfully ensnared, firmly grasped in his hand. They were different from the past life. So he temporarily pushed the word into a mental trash bin and stepped into the administrative building. The corporate reps had been waiting for their benefactor, and ushered him in with flattering attention.
When Gao Rong entered, Chi Lanyi and the other three students were already waiting below the stage. The other three young people clutched their materials, their body language straining to look natural, unable to hide their nervousness. One girl was still silently reciting her lines. Only Chi Lanyi wasn’t focused on preparation, though he wasn’t exactly distracted either. He was looking around, and when he spotted Gao Rong from afar, his eyes lit up.
Ignoring everyone around him, Chi Lanyi smiled at him. Seeing this unguarded smile, Gao Rong’s lips pressed together. The extreme, willful double standard Chi Lanyi held for people he liked versus everyone else was probably part of his charm. He was intensely closed off to outsiders—or sometimes, to everyone—yet when interacting with someone he believed he had a deep emotional connection with, he would completely empty himself out. Very extreme, very dangerous. But the old Gao Rong had thought he liked it very much.
Now, Gao Rong moved his hand slightly, giving Chi Lanyi a “focus on your presentation” look. He followed the corporate rep to his seat, thinking, does the Gao Rong of this life like this kind of Chi Lanyi? Maybe, he could like it. A Chi Lanyi like this could be seen through at a glance. Thus, Gao Rong could see even more clearly how to control him.
Having been caught in that gaze, Chi Lanyi seemed to realize his lapse. His upbringing made him very embarrassed, feeling he’d done something inappropriate. Gao Rong saw him quickly lower his head, but he didn’t start preparing his presentation. Instead, he became absent-minded, that detached look he wore when he was too lazy to interact with the world. Watching this, Gao Rong couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. Chi Lanyi’s ability to adapt to society was truly terrible. But then again, this was what he, Gao Rong, wanted to see. Wasn’t his goal to make Chi Lanyi unable to handle his own affairs, forced to constantly come to him?
Amidst these exchanged glances, the presentation began. Chi Lanyi sat in the waiting area like a painting, beautiful, but who knew what he was thinking. Gao Rong did notice that the Asian student named Fang Heng glanced at him several times. Fang Heng’s gaze, though, had nothing to do with being drawn to him. Earlier, Theo had also been looking at Gao Rong, but only to greet the project’s new major investor. Solene had also looked, just enthusiastic politeness.
Fang Heng was polite initially too, but soon, the reason he was watching Gao Rong was likely those several glances exchanged between Chi Lanyi and him. Gao Rong noticed Fang Heng’s look was even assessing—not friendly, anyway. He didn’t care about it. He’d seen plenty of such self-righteous designers. It was also interesting, because this Fang Heng would become Chi Lanyi’s longtime frenemy in the fashion world, a rival of equal talent. Fang Heng was extremely proud; he wouldn’t use underhanded tricks against Chi Lanyi.
Gao Rong also remembered Solene. She was a very kind woman who would serve as Fashion Director for two brands; her academic designs were excellent. That Theo, however, was trouble. Gao Rong remembered Theo wasn’t without talent, but he loved forming cliques and always held inexplicable malice toward Chi Lanyi.
Without realizing it, Gao Rong had mentally organized the people around Chi Lanyi. He thought Theo could be observed further. In the past life, he and Chi Lanyi had just never gotten along. There was no need to act rashly and provoke unnecessary trouble now. After running through all this, he looked over and found Chi Lanyi was still spacing out nearby. He looked like he was graciously, low-key listening to the representatives’ speeches, but not a single word was actually entering his brain. Gao Rong: … Forget it.
Only when Solene went up to present did Chi Lanyi seem to come alive. He had no interest in the representatives’ pleasantries, but he watched Solene’s work very carefully. At some moments, his fingers kept unconsciously tracing movements, probably thinking about where something could be improved, where it was well done, and what other possibilities he would explore if it were his own piece.
After Solene, it was Theo. Theo’s style was as it always was: fiery, flamboyant, maximalist, intensely dramatic. Even though one teacher frowned at his pile of imagery, Theo still gestured wildly, telling his story and charming several others. During the feedback session, the frowning teacher said, “Honestly, I only see a very hollow story. A grand banquet, magnificent, and then what? No history, no cultural background, no story.”
Theo’s smile visibly stiffened. Another teacher who’d been amused smoothed things over. “Isn’t a magnificent Byzantine banquet a story in itself, Margot? Why be so picky?”
“Ha.” The mentor named Margot laughed sharply. “Fine. A middle schooler could tell that story. Grab some images Googled from a print shop, rip a dress off a store rack, and paste it on like flyers on a telephone pole. Done. I can tell stories from all eras, not just Byzantine.”
Another gentleman who had been silent the whole time simply smiled. He was new to this review session, sitting among the four mentors, a designer wearing giant sunglasses and a hat. Solene had glanced at him several times upon entering, as if finding his jawline familiar.
Ultimately, Theo passed too. But he didn’t look happy, his face darkening the moment he got off the stage.
Fang Heng went up to present his strong structural sense and precise, technically flawless skills. Theo sat down next to Chi Lanyi and deliberately asked him, “Second-year, nervous being an exception among third-years, going last?”
Immersed in Fang Heng’s presentation, Chi Lanyi took a moment to respond. “What?”
“I heard you’ve been working on some self-indulgent stuff lately. What, dramatic, flashy ‘beautiful wound’ dark aesthetics? Gave up on your pile of defensive, self-proclaimed poetry?” Theo taunted. “Or are you planning to copy my style now?”
Chi Lanyi paused. Theo thought he’d provoked him and was ready to puff up his chest, but saw Chi Lanyi just turn his face away.
“You…!” “Quiet. I’m watching Fang Heng,” Chi Lanyi said coldly. “He’s much more valuable than you.” Theo choked on his hot air. After a moment, he spat resentfully, “I want to see just what you’ll show up there later!”
Finally, Fang Heng yielded the stage. It was Chi Lanyi’s turn.
He left his computer aside to connect the display cables while carrying the physical mood board up himself. Head bowed, he adjusted its position, aligning it to face a specific corner of the audience. Then Chi Lanyi stood up. The moment he no longer blocked the mood board, something flickered in Gao Rong’s vision. He realized it was a point of light. After clearly seeing that corner of the mood board, he paused.
“This is my mood board,” Chi Lanyi said softly. “Compared to last time, I’ve made some changes. The sense of order still exists, but it no longer represents total oppression and concealment. What I want to express is the indulgence, destruction, and revelry beneath that order…” As he spoke, he pointed to a corner. “And I added something here.”
He pointed to the eye covered by folds. In the pupil of the eye, Chi Lanyi had affixed a mirrored fragment. “Within this indulgence under the wound, we are being watched. Yet at the same time, we are also watching others. As we are seen by others, we also see them.” Chi Lanyi articulated clearly. But his gaze didn’t look at the other people. Instead, it boldly, directly looked toward Gao Rong. “This is the theme I want to express.”
Silence fell over the presentation hall. Only Fang Heng, after a brief flash of admiration, had his expression change. He looked at Chi Lanyi, then at Gao Rong. Alarm, hostility, and disbelief filled his eyes. As if he’d just admired a genius designer whose talent even surpassed his own, then immediately sensed the other’s predicament, filled with vigilance and pity for his situation.
Chi Lanyi was completely unaware of everything around him. He withdrew his tender, affectionate gaze and waited for the mentors’ evaluations. After a long moment, Margot, who’d just mocked Theo, said, “I think… I have nothing to critique. I believe what you’ve created already has the embryo of an independent brand. All I can do is fully assist you in the journey ahead, incubating your vision into reality.” She looked at the other mentors. “What do you think?”
Even the mentor who had previously called his mood board a psychotic episode had nothing to say. He made a few brief, lukewarm comments, nitpicking some points about the target audience before falling silent. Another mentor, however, was effusive. He had admired Chi Lanyi’s talent since the first presentation, even arguing with others over it. Now, he couldn’t stop pouring out praise and suggesting ways he could help.
As the mood in the room lifted, Theo’s expression grew darker. Staring at Chi Lanyi on stage, his lips slowly twisted with jealousy.
The final review of the mood boards concluded. Ahead lay a six-month incubation period. The four students would receive design guidance from mentors, corporate art directors, and major brand guest designers, undergo business training, and gain market and industry resources provided by the project. Ultimately, they would complete a Capsule Collection of 12 looks, present it in a final show, and defend it to the corporate side.
“I hope you will remember—the student who performs the best among you will receive our continued investment and legal support, eventually gaining the chance to launch their own brand. Run toward your future, emerging designers.”
After listening to the corporate representative’s closing speech, all the students felt a jolt. “Best?” Solene whispered. “I remember in previous Incubator Projects, only the single top student received the greatest resource support. But this time… there are four of us.”
And what made her feelings complicated was that, among these four, the most remarkable was the second-year student she had initially dismissed as an outsider. This was something she had completely not expected when she first saw Chi Lanyi at the orientation meeting. Even up until the first mood board review, Chi Lanyi was still mired in controversy for overly personal and emotional expression.
