IDEI CH61

Qi Yanning and Ling Cangzhou went out for a meal of local cuisine. The restaurant was not a traditional tourist landmark, but rather a modern fusion spot.

Consequently, the flavors were neither heavy nor greasy like conventional regional dishes, leaning instead toward refined delicacy that suited Qi Yanning’s palate far better.

Trying this culinary style for the first time, Qi Yanning found himself unexpectedly fond of it. Finishing the meal, he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin and cast a deep, lingering glance at Ling Cangzhou.

Ling Cangzhou was speaking with the server, arranging to pack two portions of the small dessert Qi Yanning had taken a few extra bites of earlier.

“How was it? Did you enjoy the flavors?” Once the server stepped away, Ling Cangzhou turned to Qi Yanning with a warm smile.

“Not bad.”

“I’m glad A-Ning liked it. There are plenty of wonderful restaurants around here—if A-Ning is interested, we can try them one by one over the next few days,” Ling Cangzhou suggested enthusiastically, his eyes sparkling with eager anticipation.

“Alright,” the corners of Qi Yanning’s lips curved upward.

After wrapping up lunch, Ling Cangzhou drove Qi Yanning back to Alaric’s atelier.

The studio apparently had no concept of a midday break; even at noon, everyone was already back at their stations, immersed in busy work. Qi Yanning arched an eyebrow, walking upstairs at an unhurried pace toward Alaric’s private workroom.

Alaric’s studio was in even greater disarray than when Qi Yanning had left. Bolts of colorful textiles had been tossed into a chaotic heap, while Alaric continued rummaging frantically through them.

“Damn it!” Alaric muttered, glancing intermittently at the design sketches taped across the studio’s glass partition.

“Didn’t they promise that every high-end, avant-garde textile would be delivered straight to my door? How dare these cunning fabric merchants send over such ordinary, dull, vulgar rubbish!” Alaric ranted passionately in his native tongue. Pulling out his phone, Qi Yanning watched the real-time translation app populate text across his screen, raising a slight eyebrow.

Seeing Alaric on the verge of reducing a mountain of silk into complete ruins, Qi Yanning—hoping to walk out of the room intact that afternoon rather than getting buried alive under fabric—stepped in to interrupt.

“Mr. Alaric, what sort of fabric are you looking for?”

“Oh, Qi, you’re back!” Alaric straightened up from the pile of textiles, striding over with delighted surprise.

In truth, he had already dispatched the studio’s intern designers to the main warehouse to fetch every bolt matching his criteria, yet having his creative flow interrupted felt deeply frustrating, leaving him digging through his own studio in vain—only to grow more irritable.

Seeing Qi Yanning, he abandoned his search altogether and began explaining his new concept.

It was to be an emerald-green gown. The bodice would be crafted from a fluid, supple textile draping smoothly over the torso, while the skirt would utilize a heavy, substantial fabric to create full, voluminous structure. Simultaneously, the entire silhouette would be veiled in gossamer sheer fabric to conjure a sense of flowing motion.

“Qi, I’ve already secured the heavy textile for the skirt—it’s a dark emerald velvet from the House of Haers! Look.” He handed a swatch over to Qi Yanning. “Observe that jewel-like luster—opulent, supple, weighty, sheer perfection.”

“However, I haven’t found anything truly fitting for either the fluid bodice or the sheer veil… You understand, most sleek, fine textiles today look metallic, completely devoid of living warmth!”

Qi Yanning nodded in agreement. Modern aesthetic standards for smooth textiles chased high-gloss sheen; the shinier the fabric, the more sought-after it became. Yet excessive gloss rendered fabric cold and mechanical, stripped of organic soul.

“And as for the sheer overlay, I want a gauze carrying a raw, textured vitality, whereas modern weaves are all far too uniform and sterile.”

Alaric looked genuinely distressed. Just then, the intern designers returned carrying armloads of fabric swatches, prompting him to launch into another frantic round of sorting.

Qi Yanning did not speak hastily; tapping out a quick message on his phone, he walked over to stand beside Alaric, watching him sift through the bolts. This was a rare opportunity to examine the world’s most comprehensive luxury textiles up close, and Qi Yanning was deeply intrigued.

Once again, however, Alaric was met with disappointment. None of these samples matched his vision. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Nothing suitable. It seems this design is destined never to see the light of day,” Alaric murmured with palpable regret.

This was a piece born at the peak of his creative inspiration—one he felt immensely proud of—yet without the right materials, he preferred shelving it entirely over compromising.

“Mr. Alaric, do you have specific requirements regarding the brand of the textiles?” Qi Yanning suddenly asked.

“None whatsoever, so long as it fits the vision,” Alaric shook his head.

“In that case,” Qi Yanning pulled up a video on his phone and held it before Alaric, “what do you think of this fabric?”

Alaric took the phone, narrowing his eyes in focus.

The video showed the hem of a garment crafted from deep green silk satin, shimmering softly under the light.

Unlike the blinding, mirror-like glare of modern synthetic satins, its radiance was restrained and luminous from within—resembling warm pearls or classical Chinese jade: understated, gentle, yet undeniably regal.

“Oh, good Lord, Qi, where did you find this clip? This fabric is perfection!” Alaric stared in rapt fascination, tapping replay to watch it once more.

This time, his admiration extended beyond the weave itself. “This garment itself possesses extraordinary aesthetic beauty! Qi, is this one of your country’s ‘antiques’?”

“An antique?” Qi Yanning shook his head with a faint smile. “No, not at all. It is a costume from a television drama we are currently filming.”

Alaric frowned at Qi Yanning, unsure if he had misheard. “Qi, perhaps I misunderstood your meaning?”

A garment this sumptuous, steeped in historical majesty, was merely a television costume?

Doubting his own grasp of Chinese, he summoned a Chinese design student interning at the studio to act as interpreter.

“Yes, it is a drama costume,” Qi Yanning confirmed.

Once the intern relayed the translation, Alaric’s face became a mask of utter disbelief. “Oh, this is genuinely a television costume?!”

“That must be a monumental production!” Alaric’s interest flared. “Once the runway show wraps up, I must watch it!”

Qi Yanning steered Alaric’s wandering attention back on track. “Mr. Alaric, let us resolve your fabric dilemma first. How does this silk suit your needs?”

“Phenomenal!” Alaric answered without a second’s hesitation.

“And there is this as well,” Qi Yanning held out his phone once more. This time, the screen displayed an entire bolt of raw textile.

It was a traditional ramie gauze technique he had previously provided to the Apparel Culture Research Association—a craft long lost to history. Woven using this restored method, the ramie sheer was featherlight and supple, bearing delicate organic grain that would harmonize effortlessly with Alaric’s gown.

“Oh, this gauze!” Alaric cradled the phone as though holding a priceless relic. “How can I acquire these two textiles?! Name any price!”

Qi Yanning smiled faintly. “Shall I have the person in charge contact you?”

“Yes!” Alaric was ecstatic. “Wonderful, Qi! You are the guardian angel of my inspiration!”

“And thank God—China truly is a paradise of textiles!”

Alaric connected with Deng Qingyun in short order, going so far as to book Deng Qingyun an overnight flight that very evening just to have the two batches of fabric hand-delivered without delay.

“Qi, thank you! Meeting you is the greatest blessing that has happened to me all year!” Alaric declared with theatrical fervor.

“Then, Mr. Alaric, may we finally begin discussing the red carpet makeup looks?” Qi Yanning asked with a polite smile.

Since morning, his primary assignment had remained at a standstill.

Alaric looked at Qi Yanning; though wearing a courteous, languid smile, something in his posture warned Alaric that creating any further detours right now might invite unpleasant consequences.

“Alright, alright,” Alaric raised both hands in surrender, though he couldn’t resist muttering under his breath in his native tongue, “Do these looks even need discussion? They’re already flawless. Chinese people are wonderful in every way, except occasionally far too cautious…”

Suppressing a laugh, the intern translated the remark for Qi Yanning.

Qi Yanning smiled softly, placing the tablet squarely between himself and Alaric to make his intentions clear.

After half a day of detours, Qi Yanning finally reclaimed his working rhythm.

Over the following days, once Alaric finalized the structural base of his new gown and handed it over to his patternmakers and couture seamstresses, he threw his full focus into runway preparations.

During dress rehearsals, Qi Yanning tested every makeup concept directly on the models multiple times, fine-tuning pigments under the harsh stage lighting to achieve optimal impact before training the backstage makeup team. With that, pre-show preparations were locked down.

On the day of the runway show, Qi Yanning rose at 3:00 AM to head to the venue.

He had intended to get ready quietly and slip out, only to open his bedroom door and find Ling Cangzhou carrying a steaming bowl of clear broth noodles out of the kitchen.

“A-Ning, you’re up?” Ling Cangzhou set the bowl onto the dining table, pinching his earlobes to cool his fingers. Still clad in black silk pajamas, drowsiness lingered around his brows, yet his smile shone bright and warm.

“Yuchuan?” Qi Yanning spoke, his voice carrying a softness he hadn’t even registered. “Why are you awake at this hour?”

“Your schedule is packed today, and backstage at a fashion show never offers decent meals—just cold sandwiches that ruin your appetite.” Ling Cangzhou laid chopsticks across the bowl and set a glass of warm water beside it. “Waking up this early, you probably don’t have much appetite, but eat a little something to line your stomach.”

Staring down at the bowl of noodles, Qi Yanning paused in quiet surprise.

“A-Ning?” Ling Cangzhou asked, slightly puzzled.

“Thank you for going through the trouble, Yuchuan.” Qi Yanning took a seat and picked up the chopsticks.

Ling Cangzhou’s culinary skills were solid; the warm noodles sent a comforting, steady heat spreading through Qi Yanning’s slightly chilled stomach.

He lifted his eyes to glance at Ling Cangzhou once more.

“Has A-Ning finally realized how handsome I am?” Ling Cangzhou rested his chin lightly on one hand, his voice low, gentle, and laced with playful teasing. “How does it feel using my face as a side dish?”

Qi Yanning arched an eyebrow. Setting his chopsticks down, he dabbed the corner of his lips delicately before replying at a leisurely pace, “Most delightful. After all, Yuchuan is certainly…”

“A feast for the eyes.”

His gaze swept inch by inch across Ling Cangzhou’s features—from his gallant brows down the bridge of his nose to his lips—lingering until Ling Cangzhou averted his face, his ears flushing bright crimson.

“I’m off. Thank you for breakfast, Yuchuan; it was delicious.” Having teased the large puppy that had tried to paw at him, Qi Yanning smiled faintly, rose, and headed out.

Arriving promptly at the venue as models trickled in, he organized the styling rotation and dove straight into the day’s work.

Backstage was a whirlwind of controlled chaos—models, stagehands, and makeup artists weaving briskly through the tight quarters. Only when the final touch-ups were completed before the models stepped onto the catwalk did Qi Yanning finally exhale.

Looking out toward the main stage, the show had officially commenced.

The runway had been transformed into a mist-shrouded lakeside shore, with the models’ path winding slowly through sculpted trees along a forest trail.

The set design alone was breathtaking. Attending press and front-row celebrities immediately raised their phones to capture the scene.

Before long, accompanied by an ethereal background score, the very first model stepped onto the runway.

Her entrance drew an immediate wave of hushed gasps.

She wore a tailored emerald suit sculpted to accentuate feminine curves. The true centerpiece was the blouse beneath: an asymmetrical high collar adorned with intricate fabric blossoms cascading from the side of her neck down to her waist, peeking boldly through the open jacket.

The garment was exquisite, and her makeup fused seamlessly with the designer’s concept.

Her hair was slicked tightly against her scalp to vanish entirely from focus, while her eyes wore a soft emerald smoky wash. On one side, a vivid green wing extended outward, anchored at its tip by a three-dimensional iris blossom.

It looked as though a living flower were blooming directly from her eye.

Such daring creativity and precision instantly electrified the audience.

What followed was an unbroken visual feast.

Alaric’s collection showcased the pinnacle of his craft, exemplary in both structural engineering and artistic vision, while Qi Yanning’s makeup designs elevated every silhouette into pure magic.

To accompany a crimson bud-shaped gown, real crimson petals were arranged in a delicate halo framing the model’s face, paired with fiery smoky eyes bursting with eccentric tension.

For a weightless, flowing chiffon dress, the makeup remained whisper-light, with tiny twigs and leaves resting delicately across the bridge of the nose, effortless and poetic.

…

Every single look was inventive and playful, forming a cohesive narrative arc that deepened the audience’s connection to the clothing’s philosophy.

The finale piece, however, left the entire hall utterly spellbound.

It was a green gown.

Yet far more than a simple shade of green—the fusion of three distinct textiles endowed the color with astonishing depth and dimension.

Across the upper torso, sleek silk satin swept over one shoulder, draping smoothly across the chest before gathering cleanly at the waist. Rigid, vine-like boning acted as structural ribbing, bridging bodice and skirt. A gossamer veil of ramie gauze drifted softly from the shoulder, gathering in intricate pleats at the waist in front while cascading weightlessly down the back over the train.

Below the waist, heavy dark-emerald corduroy shimmered with a plush, muted sheen, falling straight to the knees before breaking into asymmetrical pleats and raw cuts. Beneath the corduroy, cascading tiers of green sheer gauze spilled forth like a waterfall, lifting the silhouette into an airy arc.

The gown bore zero ostentatious beading or heavy embroidery—relying purely on the collision of contrasting textures and master-level tailoring.

Yet the visual impact was nothing short of transcendent.

The fluid cling of satin, the aristocratic weight of corduroy, and the weightless softness of ramie gauze achieved a delicate harmony of hue and texture.

The Black model wearing the piece carried equally mesmerizing makeup. Living green moss crept upward from her bare collarbones, halting just across her cheekbones. Her lashes were coated in plush forest green, interwoven with long emerald feathers that fluttered with airy grace every time she blinked.

Seated in the front rows, every spectator gazed in silent reverence at what could only be called a career-defining masterpiece.

Several haute couture collectors exchanged polite smiles, though their eyes burned with fierce determination to acquire the piece.

Magnificent! This is Aphrodite’s most soulful creation in years—the pure distillation of Alaric’s aesthetic philosophy, possessing immense collectible value!

As attendees schemed quietly, the full lineup of models returned to complete the final walk.

Finally, Alaric stepped onto the runway, leading by the hand a figure largely unfamiliar to the crowd.

Beaming radiantly, Alaric thanked everyone in graceful tones before turning toward the bank of media lenses, solemnly introducing the striking Asian face beside him:

“For tonight’s show, there is another vital contributor standing right beside me—Qi! He is an extraordinarily gifted master makeup artist from China, possessing a rare perception of beauty. Every single makeup concept you witnessed tonight originated from his vision!”

Though unable to understand Alaric’s words, Qi Yanning betrayed no awkwardness, standing calmly at his side with a poised, measured smile as he met the collective gaze of the hall.

“Not only that—the inspiration behind tonight’s breathtaking finale gown came directly from Qi! Even the extraordinary textiles were sourced by him!”

“He is a creator of supreme beauty, and the true defender of my inspiration!”

Swept away by emotion, Alaric wrapped Qi Yanning in a exuberant bear hug, punctuating the gesture with two traditional Country F cheek kisses.

Caught completely off guard, Qi Yanning nearly lost his composed expression. Oblivious, Alaric pulled him forward to bow deeply toward the audience.

The runway show drew to a triumphant close. Only after attending the after-party and collecting a pocketful of business cards was Qi Yanning finally able to unwind.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, feeling mildly tipsy, he glanced toward the driver’s seat, where Ling Cangzhou sat in uncharacteristic silence.

Under the passing glow of streetlights, Qi Yanning caught sight of Ling Cangzhou’s expression.

Although appearing focused on driving, the muscles around his eyes were visibly tense, glaring straight ahead while the corners of his mouth pulled downward, every muscle in his jaw locked tight.

Looking simultaneously ferocious and pitiful.

“Yuchuan…” Qi Yanning asked softly, “are you upset?”

Ling Cangzhou remained silent for a long beat.

After what felt like ages, just as Qi Yanning was on the verge of drifting to sleep, he finally spoke:

“I know it’s part of your job, and I know people in Country F are naturally warm and expressive—I understand. Alaric was just overwhelmed with excitement, since A-Ning is so wonderful and brought him such brilliant inspiration…”

Ling Cangzhou’s voice sank lower.

Another brief stretch of silence followed.

“Still, he kissed you!” Ling Cangzhou muttered in a small voice. “He actually kissed you!”

His tone sounded precisely like a large hound whose cherished bone had been nibbled by a stranger—both irritable and thoroughly dejected.

Qi Yanning arched an eyebrow, glancing over. CEO Ling’s brows pressed down low over his eyes in a fierce scowl, yet a faint shimmer of moisture glistened in his gaze.

Evidently, the puppy felt profoundly wronged.

Qi Yanning mused quietly.

“Pull over,” his voice carried a languid, tipsy warmth.

Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was the man before him, stirring an inexplicable impulse inside Qi Yanning.

Ling Cangzhou obediently steered the car to the side of the road.

Before he could even turn his head to look at Qi Yanning, he felt a warm breath draw near.

A soft, cool touch grazed his cheek before pulling back.

Ling Cangzhou whipped his head around with enough force to nearly sprain his neck.

Qi Yanning’s striking face was inches away.

Sliding his fingers into Ling Cangzhou’s hair, Qi Yanning stroked the strands with gentle pressure, a deep, knowing smile resting in his eyes.

“There. Does that make you feel a little better?”