“Ding-dong—”
Song Jin pressed the doorbell. After a short while, Wen Yu came to open the door. She hadn’t even had time to change her clothes, and the draft created by the opening door made both of them shiver.
“Sorry to trouble you,” Wen Yu said as she led her inside, closing the door very gently.
In the corner of her living room stood a vertical cabinet air conditioner, dutifully running in heating mode; it was actually quite warm inside.
Song Jin stared at the air conditioner for a long while, thinking to herself that she should hire someone to install one like it when she got back.
“So, tell me, what’s this about?” She snapped back to reality and looked at Wen Yu, who had just come out of the kitchen with a plate of washed strawberries. Song Jin instinctively stepped forward to help, took the plate, and placed it familiarly on the circular coffee table.
Wen Yu nodded and explained, “The company is sending me to a banquet tomorrow, and I wanted to ask you to help me choose an outfit.”
“Choose an outfit?” Song Jin tilted her head, somewhat puzzled, and blurted out her confusion. “Isn’t that the sort of thing the company arranges in advance? It’s probably too late to borrow anything now, isn’t it?”
Wen Yu stuffed a strawberry into her mouth, her cheek bulging significantly. “It’s not a large-scale event, so the company let me decide for myself.”
Song Jin understood. It made sense; there was no reason for Wen Yu to be invited to an event and not her.
Wen Yu pulled a tissue from the table to wipe the moisture from her hands, then went upstairs and carefully brought down a pile of gowns encased in dust bags. The sound of her plastic flip-flops hitting the wooden floor made a deng-deng-deng noise. “The company wants me to pick one from these dresses and send the choice to the stylist by eleven o’clock so they can finalize tomorrow’s makeup look.”
Song Jin let out a long “Oh—” and, after drying her own hands, stepped forward to examine them.
There were five gowns in total, all with different styles and colors. Song Jin had seen several of them with her own eyes at a certain high-end luxury runway show early last year, and she had been quite taken with them at the time.
However, by now, they were considered “past season.”
Song Jin had never borrowed a past-season gown, and she wasn’t entirely sure if the media would pick her apart for wearing one to a small event. But since the person involved didn’t seem to mind, she didn’t say much.
Song Jin helped unpack a black one, held it up against Wen Yu to measure it, and then tossed it back onto the sofa in distaste. She took out a new one, measured it, and tossed it again. This cycle repeated, and in less than ten minutes, she had rejected every single dress.
“None of them are suitable?” Wen Yu couldn’t help but frown.
“Too revealing,” Song Jin explained. “In this weather, showing this much skin is freezing.”
These gowns either had entirely open backs, were slashed from the chest down to the navel, or even had slits up to the thigh, leaving nothing behind but a decorative floor-length train. Just looking at them made one feel a chill in their bones.
Song Jin pinched the fabric and looked at her. “Did your company say you must choose from these five?”
“Hmm?” Wen Yu, who had been sinking into a bit of gloom, looked up instinctively. “No, why?”
“Oh, then wait for me here for a second.” Song Jin tossed the dress aside and didn’t forget to grab two strawberries from the plate before leaving. With her other hand, she pulled her phone from her pocket and opened the door to go outside to make a call. The door wasn’t fully closed, and the sound of her voice drifted in through the crack, faint and indistinct, gradually vanishing as her footsteps receded.
Wen Yu sat quietly on the living room sofa waiting. After a long while, just when she thought Song Jin might have been caught up in something else, a sound came from the entryway. She looked up reflexively and saw Song Jin holding a helmet in one hand while using her toe to gently kick the door open.
She poked her head from behind the door, her elegant long hair falling over her shoulders with the movement. The cool white light of the hallway was bright, spilling over her like the innate halo of a descending angel; everything felt as it should be.
Song Jin arched an eyebrow at her. “Put on a coat. I’m taking you somewhere.”
Wen Yu never thought she would sit on the back of Song Jin’s bike again, but the sensation of the biting cold wind blowing against her body was incredibly real. The roar of the motorcycle starting up served as a reminder that this was not a dream.
She was much less stiff this time than the last. After getting on, she proactively wrapped her arms around Song Jin’s waist, though there felt like an invisible wall between them—Wen Yu didn’t dare lean in too close.
Song Jin didn’t mind much. Once she confirmed that Wen Yu wasn’t going to fall off anytime soon, she accelerated. But after a while, she felt a slight weight against her back, as if someone was leaning on her.
Holy crap, she couldn’t have fallen asleep, could she?
Song Jin grumbled inwardly.
After all, Wen Yu had been awake since five in the morning and hadn’t napped at noon. To be able to complete a full day of shooting with such vitality and without a single mistake was impressive, but it was certainly possible she was exhausted now.
Thinking this, Song Jin slowed her riding speed to prevent Wen Yu from tumbling off if she was indeed nodding off.
The journey to their destination wasn’t long. Before much time had passed, Song Jin decelerated and braked, stopping in front of a clothing store in the Qingshi commercial district.
It was already ten o’clock at night, but the Qingshi commercial street was still bustling with people. Everywhere you looked, people were carrying shopping bags.
Song Jin had been wondering how best to wake Wen Yu up, but to her surprise, the moment she came to a steady stop, Wen Yu let go of her back. Song Jin was slightly surprised, turning her face to ask, “You’re awake?”
“Huh? Um…” Wen Yu’s voice sounded muffled, though it was hard to tell if it was because of the helmet or because she had just woken up.
Her first reaction after getting off the bike was to take off the helmet, but the moment her hand touched the cold surface, she was immediately stopped by another pair of equally cold hands. “Don’t rush. Take it off after we go inside.”
Perhaps the night in Qingshi really was too cold; even Song Jin’s protective black leather gloves felt as if they had just been fished out of ice water.
Wen Yu froze, and it wasn’t until Song Jin had already entered the store that she snapped out of it. She looked up at the shop’s sign hanging over the door. On a white background illuminated by warm yellow light, a few bold brushstrokes read:
If it doesn’t look good, come hit me.
Wen Yu gasped, suddenly curious about what kind of character the owner of this shop was.
She followed Song Jin inside. The storefront was large, spanning three floors. The first floor was for everyday wear, suitable for shopping or commuting. Through the glass, Wen Yu had caught a glimpse of the second and third floors; they seemed to be for Hanfu and formal gowns.
There were many customers on the first floor—it was practically overflowing. The eight fitting rooms were all occupied, and there was even a queue waiting outside.
Seeing more customers, a shop assistant hurried over to greet them. “Welcome! Is there anything I can help you with?”
Song Jin didn’t say a word; she simply pulled a business card from her wallet and handed it over. The assistant took it with a smile, but after seeing the contents, her smile broadened even further. She immediately ushered them toward the elevator to the third floor.
Inside the elevator, the assistant, Xiao Wu, said excitedly, “Miss, the Madam sent a new batch of clothes just a few days ago. We’ve finally been waiting for you to come try them!”
Song Jin took off her helmet, finally getting a chance to breathe. She glanced down at her and explained, “I’m not the one trying them. I brought her to try them.”
Saying this, she turned to look at Wen Yu. Being put on the spot, Wen Yu’s grip on her helmet tightened instinctively. She gave a somewhat awkward greeting to Xiao Wu. “Hello?”
Xiao Wu looked at Song Jin and then at Wen Yu, her expression becoming increasingly gratified. “Hello, Miss Wen. You are the first woman the Young Lady has ever brought home.”
“Stop watching so many ‘Overbearing CEO Falls for Me’ dramas,” Song Jin’s mouth twitched, the goosebumps rising at the comment.
As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, Xiao Wu immediately opened an app on her phone, controlling all the Venetian blinds on the third floor to close. Wen Yu looked around. The entire room was decorated in a European style, with a crystal chandelier on the ceiling casting bright light. In the center of the room, two rows of white mannequins wearing various gowns were displayed like an exhibition. Built-in double-layer wardrobes were filled with magnificent dresses. Turning her head the other way, she saw several rows of jewelry, shoes, and bags waiting for her.
Wen Yu craned her neck to look at the outfits on the top tier, feeling as though Song Jin was about to shout that classic line: “Bring down that outfit at the very top for me!”
Song Jin rested her chin on her hand, thinking for a moment, and said to Xiao Wu, “Bring down that outfit at the very top for me.”
“?” A question mark appeared over Xiao Wu’s head. She couldn’t help but crook her finger to scratch her furrowed brow. “If the Madam knew you had your eye on a style she phased out years ago, she would definitely scold you for having no taste.”
“Ah? Has it been phased out for several years already?” Song Jin scratched her head. But it made sense; Ms. Li Zhengzheng treated her works like her children—while she might complain that a design from years ago looked like crap, she couldn’t bear to throw them away and kept them all well-preserved.
“It’s fine. You two play around here for a bit. I’ll go bring out the styles that arrived a few days ago.” Xiao Wu nodded to Wen Yu and then went down to get the stock.
The massive room was suddenly left to just the two of them. Song Jin took the helmet from Wen Yu’s hands, placed it on a nearby chair, and explained to Wen Yu, “This shop is run by my mom. Generally, only the first and second floors are open to customers; very few people can come up to the third.”
She beckoned Wen Yu to come sit and continued, “My mom’s work is quite famous. You can trust her skill.”
Wen Yu nodded. She had noticed just then that the dresses on the mannequins looked more familiar than the last; almost all of them were gowns Song Jin had worn on the red carpet.
They were all created by the hand of the famous domestic designer, L.
Those outside the industry always thought Song Jin’s excellent fashion resources were due to the influence of the Song Group. But from what she was saying, this genius designer L—who had never appeared in the public eye, who had found fame young, and whose work grew more soulful with experience—was actually her mother.
So now a question arose.
Why… did she bring Wen Yu to her mother’s shop in such a way that was almost like revealing her family background?
Was it out of trust?
The chime of the elevator interrupting Wen Yu’s train of thought. Xiao Wu returned with another assistant, pushing two entire racks of gowns inside as if they cost nothing.