Chapter 29 Exclusive Release Chapter 29 "She is very talented,..."
Yuan Ning certainly likes Elias.
If she used to be attracted to Elias's money, power, and looks, now...
The night breeze stirred, ruffling her hair and brushing against her cheeks.
In the distance, the sound of ship horns could be heard on the river, and the wind whistled through the iron chains of the old dock.
The whole world seemed to consist only of the warm, surging sensation between my lips and teeth.
Elias's reason and order would scream:
"Crossing the line! Out of control! Push her away!"
Hey, Wynne is so cute, and her lips are so soft, why push her away?
The night breeze became gentle, and the shimmering waves on the distant river became a swaying backdrop to a dreamlike scene.
Wynne's eyes were half-closed, her long eyelashes trembling wetly, her cheeks as red as ripe peaches, her lips slightly swollen and rosy from being kissed. She was still immersed in a kind of dizziness, gazing at him with hazy eyes and a satisfied smile on her lips.
“Elijas…” she whispered his name, drawing out the last syllable.
No one is cuter than Wynne.
"Mmm," he responded softly.
"You just kissed me," she said, somewhat smugly.
“You started it first,” he reminded her, wiping the water from her lips with his thumb.
Shen Yuxiu asked his assistant, "How was the list reviewed? Why were a girl who just started college allowed in today?"
"Just started college" is a nice way of saying it; a less flattering way is "not presentable."
"President Shen, I went down to check, and she had an invitation letter from the Meng family of Hushi."
"The Meng family? Which Meng family?"
"Meng's Real Estate, Mr. Shen."
“Meng’s Real Estate…” Shen Yuxiu slowly repeated these four words, his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses still calmly calculating.
“Meng Qianyue… I have a vague impression of him. He started his business in the southern part of the city and made a fortune through urban renewal and several new district projects.”
He commented in a flat tone.
"He's quick-witted and daring; the small projects we collaborated on were all going quite well. However,"
Shen Yuxiu changed the subject, "Since Mr. Van der Berger came all the way here to give me some pointers, I can't just do nothing."
"Have the Chamber of Commerce secretary send him a letter saying that the cooperation is suspended. Since he has complicated family matters that are difficult to handle, let him deal with his family matters first, and then we can talk about the next steps of cooperation."
"By the way, pass on a message to those old friends of ours in Hushi... those who have dealings with Meng's Real Estate in terms of urban planning, bank loans, and even land acquisition. Don't be too explicit, just mention that President Meng is busy with family matters lately, which may affect business, so let's not cooperate with him for now."
The assistant immediately understood: "Yes, Mr. Shen."
Yuan Ning posted photos of herself at the dinner party on her blog and wrote a blog post about it.
The opening is a striking photograph. She is wearing, without a doubt, the ivory white Dior first edition dress from 1947. She stands alone in front of the huge arched window of the banquet hall, with the dazzling night view of New York City outside.
The dress's minimalist lines, combined with her straight back and slightly raised chin, created a silent silhouette. The back view signifies detachment and scrutiny, but also implies, "The story is unfolding, and I face the future."
The blog's title is: "What We Wear, What We Are, and What We Be."
The main text is as follows:
Last night, in a brightly lit, elegantly dressed setting, something rather dramatic happened: a young woman used a megaphone to try and nail down a label called "origin" in my life through her family narrative, thus sealing my entire fate.
Her voice was loud, and her tears were genuine.
For a moment, that sound truly overwhelmed me, making me question whether my very existence was a mistake.
I stepped out that door. In the cold winter wind, I did feel cold, and I felt sad for myself. But more importantly, I realized: what they wanted to define was the past, the subordinate, the "daughter of someone." And standing here was Wynne.
Then, I received a gift.
It wasn't forgiveness, it wasn't comfort, it was a piece of clothing.
A sample garment from the first Dior "New Look" design in 1947. Its designer, amidst the ruins of World War II, redefined feminine elegance and power with a voluminous skirt and cinched waist.
It doesn't complain, it doesn't cry out, it simply exists.
Despite its age of over fifty years, it still makes everyone who sees it hold their breath and bow their heads involuntarily.
I put it on.
It wasn't that I chose it; at that moment, it chose me. It covered my skin, enveloped my bones, and its cut supported my spine.
When I returned to that noisy place, something wonderful happened: those pitying, scrutinizing, and disdainful gazes gradually turned into surprise, curiosity, and ultimately respect.
They no longer see just a story; they begin to see a stance.
This reminds me of the saying, "Clothes make the man." But we've all misunderstood it. Top-tier clothing isn't armor, it's not a disguise. It's an amplifier, a translator, an outward manifestation and declaration of your inner self.
When you're wavering inside, even the most expensive clothes won't give you confidence.
When your core is stable, even a simple white shirt can make you shine.
Last night, that dress whispered to me: "Your value is not bestowed by anyone, nor defined by the past. It is woven from your knowledge, your taste, your resilience, and every effort you make to rebuild yourself from the ruins."
The cruelest yet fairest aspect of fashion is that it eventually sheds all its labels. Logos go out of season, trends come and go, and gossip is forgotten. What remains is a person's core style.
So, thank you for last night's little interlude. It was like a mirror, allowing me to see more clearly who I am, who I am not, and who I will become.
As for those who try to define me using old scripts?
I'm sorry, I've only written the first chapter of my story.
Wynne
(I type these words in my bathrobe on a Manhattan morning. Outside the window, the city is awakening, and anything is possible.)
Yuan Ning posted this blog post while she was spreading rumors about her status as an illegitimate child on social media.
Before this, she had never turned on her phone.
Her phone was undoubtedly buzzing non-stop.
She didn't care whether those people came to ask her the truth, intending to mock her, or to offer insincere comfort.
On Monday morning, Yuan Ning attended three long classes despite the whispers around her.
Before she left, Professor Miller called her back.
Yuan Ning was somewhat prepared.
"Professor, if you also have opinions about me because of some of my reputation issues, then I have nothing to say."
Professor Miller quickly waved his hand: "No, no, no, Wynne Meng, I just wanted to ask you how Casanova's project is progressing?"
Yuan Ning was taken aback, then slowly shook her head: "I'm sorry, Professor, our group couldn't get everyone together last week, so the project hasn't made any progress yet."
Professor Miller told her, “Wynne, you are my most valued student. I’ll let you in on a secret: the Casanova project is no joke. If you can do it well and bring them real economic benefits, Wynne, you will definitely get a lot, I guarantee it.”
Yuan Ning's expression turned serious. He used to think that the projects that students could use as homework were mostly just for fun. They only needed to submit a beautiful and complete plan to get a good grade. No one would seriously think about whether their plan could actually help the company make money.
But Professor Miller was clearly not joking with her.
Yuan Ning became serious and nodded earnestly: "Thank you, Professor. I will definitely complete this project well."
After class, Yuan Ning sent a text message to everyone in the group in advance, asking them to come to the library in the afternoon to discuss the topic together.
During her lunch break, Yuan Ning went to the place where she usually met up with her friends. Unfortunately, after Emily and the other two met up, they glanced at her and walked away.
Yuan Ning stood in front of a juice shop with a Fugu sign, took a deep breath, and decided to buy a salad to eat on a bench on campus.
Her friends and social circle didn't break up after the argument, but rather evaporated from her life in some tacit way.
She recalled how, not long ago, they had squeezed around the cramped counter of this juice bar, sharing a lipstick, complaining about a professor's harsh rating, and excitedly planning a weekend shopping spree in SoHo. Emily would exclaim dramatically about her new manicure, Amanda would always complain about how painful it was to control her carbs, and Stella would summarize everything in her calm yet slightly sarcastic tone.
Those real, mundane moments, imbued with the unique intimacy between girls, are now contrasted as if they were phantoms from another parallel world.
It turns out that once you strip away the commonalities of "wealth, glamour, and carefree life," the so-called friendship is so fragile that it can't withstand the social risks brought about by the phrase "illegitimate daughter."
Yuan Ning didn't try to chase after them, nor did she send a message to question them. She didn't even let her expression crack. She simply raised her chin slightly, squinted at the sunlight, and then turned and walked in the opposite direction from them.
The park bench was old, its paint peeling. She sat down and opened the salad bag. The vegetables still looked fresh and green, and the roasted chicken breast was plentiful. She ate slowly, chewing carefully, as if completing a necessary task.
It tastes great, is healthy and refreshing, which is her usual choice.
Even the best food will inevitably carry a touch of loneliness when eaten alone.
My phone screen lit up briefly; it was a push notification from "Wynne's Window": "Your new blog post, 'What We Wear…,' has received a comment from verified user 'Alexander Kiyokawa.'"
Yuan Ning clicked on it.
Alexander Kiyokawa wrote in English: "Touching honesty and power. The essence of fashion lies in creating oneself, not inheriting labels. Looking forward to your 'Chapter Two'." He added a handshake emoji.
She put down her fork, replied with a simple "Thank you. It's my honor," and followed him back.
Van der Berg's House, Oak Study.
The heavy door closed silently behind Elias, cutting off the faint music coming from the distance down the corridor; Theodora was playing an opera in one of the rooms.
The air was filled with the rich, slightly pungent aftertaste of fine Cuban cigars; this was Viscount Arthur van der Berg's domain.
Arthur was not sitting behind the 19th-century mahogany desk that symbolized the head of the household. He stood in front of the huge arched window, his back to the door, overlooking the meticulously manicured but now desolate landscape of Brooklyn Heights Gardens under the night sky.
Elias stopped a few steps away from the desk.
The silence lasted for about a minute. The only sound was the occasional crackling of the firewood in the fireplace.
Finally, Arthur slowly turned around. He wore a dark blue velvet smoking jacket, which made his silver-gray hair look particularly sophisticated. There was no obvious anger on his face; in fact, it could be described as an extreme calm. But those icy blue eyes, identical to Elias's but deeper and more tempered by years and political maneuvering, were now fixed on his son.
“Richard told me it was an urgent private matter,” Arthur began, his voice low but carrying the distinct, clear, and rounded tone of an old-fashioned aristocrat, yet more imposing than any reprimand. “An urgent private matter that made you leave the room halfway through Lord Grantham’s (a key member of the family foundation’s board of directors) speech.”
His gaze remained fixed on Elias, without asking any questions, only stating his position, and applying increasing pressure in his statement.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Elias said, his voice steady and maintaining basic courtesy.
Arthur leaned back in his chair, a faint, almost disappointed look flashing across his face, but it was quickly replaced by a deeper scrutiny.
“I remember we discussed Apollo.” Arthur’s voice softened, but deepened. “Uncontrolled loyalty, a dangerous threat. Emotions are the ebb and flow of the tide, while reason and order are the foundation.”
He looked at his son: "What you are doing now, Elias, is allowing an... presence to interfere with your judgment, disrupt your rhythm, and even make you make priorities that are not in line with your identity and responsibilities."
“She’s very talented, Father,” Elias tried to defend himself, a hint of defensiveness in his voice that he himself didn’t realize. “Her taste, her resilience, her ability to rebuild herself in dire circumstances—all of these prove she’s an extremely valuable person…”
"—An investment target?" Arthur finished for him, a barely perceptible smirk playing on his lips. "If it's an investment, Elias, you should calmly assess the risks first. Her controversial background is a huge, uncontrollable risk factor. When do you plan to recoup your investment?"
Arthur stood up, walked to the fireplace, and gently adjusted the firewood with a silver poker, causing sparks to fly up.
"The Van der Berg family has been able to survive to this day, Elias, not because we have been the richest or most powerful in every era, but because we have always been clear-headed and always understood what is the core, what is just scenery, and even what branches need to be pruned."
“Take care of it, Elias,” Arthur finally said, his tone regaining its absolute calm, yet carrying more weight than any command. “In your own way.”
Elias stands between reason and impulse, order and derailment.
He nodded slightly, knowing which way to lean.
Yuan Ning put in a lot of effort and finally managed to get the four team members together.
Emily suggested doing emerging social media marketing for Casanova, preferably by collaborating with popular streetwear brands to generate buzz on social media, but Yuan Ning rejected the idea.
“Casanova’s customer base even communicates with each other through letters written by writers; doing social media marketing would only lower the brand’s image.”
Casanova has always been a very low-key top-tier leather goods workshop, fundamentally different from the luxury brands sold on Fifth Avenue.
Some wealthy people wear luxury goods specifically to be seen, while others are ashamed of having their clothes exposed.
Yuan Ning wanted to maintain Casanova's mystique and exclusivity as much as possible, while also earning enough money to keep the workshop running smoothly.
Emily's suggestion was decisively rejected by Yuan Ning. She was a little embarrassed, but quickly raised her eyebrows and became displeased.
"Lowering the brand's image?" Emily's tone rose. "Wynne, what era are we living in? Even Chanel is going crazy with blogs. What young person knows what Casanova is? It'll just become an old relic in a museum!"
She believes Wynne is deliberately trying to stand out by showing off her unique and unconventional taste.
Yuan Ning didn't immediately refute Emily's excitement. She turned the screen of her laptop towards the team members, displaying the data and analysis charts she had compiled over the weekend.
“Emily, you’re right, exposure is important. But the way and the target audience of that exposure determines whether a brand is reborn or engages in suicidal consumption.” Her voice was steady as she pointed to the data on the screen. “I’ve looked at Casanova’s customer records and limited market feedback over the past ten years. Their core customer base has an average age of over forty, extremely high net worth, and their purchasing behavior is extremely private. Moreover, over 70% of them are family-run customers—their grandfather bought it, their father bought it, and now it’s their turn.”
She pulled up another chart: "The trend of collaborations between streetwear brands and the explosion of social media attracts a group with an average age of under 25, who pursue instant trends, have extremely low loyalty, and have a vague understanding of 'historical value' and 'craft heritage.' These two groups have almost no overlap."
“Covering Casanova’s core essence—the silent luxury that requires decades of refinement to appreciate—with modern elements might generate a buzz and sell some hot items in the short term. But what about the long term?” Yuan Ning’s gaze swept over the three of them. “The core customer base will feel betrayed and insulted, believing the brand has fallen from grace, and will turn away. Newly attracted streetwear fans will also quickly abandon it after the next season’s trends. Ultimately, Casanova will lose its soul and fail to capture attention, ending up with nothing.”
Emily sneered, "Wynne, this is just a group assignment. You don't need to take it so seriously. I think you should focus more on those illegitimate daughter scandals."
She picked up her handbag. "Okay, Wynne, if you don't do as I say, I'm leaving now. There's a party tonight. Oh, I almost forgot, you weren't invited. I shouldn't have told you."
Yuan Ning's expression was icy as she watched Emily turn and leave with haughty pride.
Yuan Ning turned her attention to David, who was originally in charge of data analysis and financial model building, and Sophia, who was in charge of competitor case studies.
"Do you two want to continue?"
Sophia slowly stood up, her movements still somewhat hesitant: "Wynne, Emily is right. This is just a group assignment. The best way is to submit Emily's ideas as a PowerPoint presentation. If you want to do more work, it will be a waste of effort."
David said the same thing.
Yuan Ning spread her hands: "Okay, I will tell the professor that my project will only have my name on it. The three of you just need to make Emily's ideas into a PowerPoint presentation."
...
After a long while, Yuan Ning came to her senses. There was no one beside her. She closed her laptop and looked into the void.
If she hasn't misjudged the situation, she should be experiencing school bullying.
For the rest of the time, she walked around campus carrying her handbag, and everywhere she went, people would huddle together and whisper to her.
She ran into Meng Qingyuan at the library entrance. Meng Qingyuan already had her own little group, after all, she was very generous. At this moment, she was acting like a victim. As soon as she saw Yuan Ning, she turned her back and pretended to cry.
The girls around her all gathered around to comfort her.
Yuan Ning recalled that when she first came to New York City for high school, she vaguely felt a similar atmosphere because of her accent and Asian appearance.
Like Meng Qingyuan, she used her father's money to break into that circle and even become the center of attention.
She has no money now, and she doesn't plan to use the same tricks as before.
Look how easily things that come into being leave.
Suddenly, someone patted her shoulder and then hugged her tightly. Yuan Ning turned her head and saw that it was Eleanor.
"Honey, why are you here all alone?"
Eleanor kept her promise and became Yuan Ning's best friend in front of everyone.
"I'm going to eat, let's go together."
On Monday evening, Yuan Ning received Elias's schedule for the following week from Richard.
She noted that Elias would be traveling to Italy on Thursday and Friday for business meetings.
Yuan Ning was planning to visit Casanova's headquarters in Italy to better complete her research project.
She had considered the necessity of taking this topic so seriously, but she had recently lost her internship at the magazine, leaving her with plenty of free time. She was already very familiar with Elias's work, and besides, she wouldn't run into him at the Van der Berg mansion for five out of seven days a week.
Everyone's work is very busy, so Yuan Ning doesn't need to let herself be idle. Since Professor Miller specifically reminded her, she wants to do her best to complete this project. She has a feeling that she will really receive a great reward.
If not... well, that's life anyway.
That evening, she sent an email to Elias's private email address, begging him to take her with him when he went to Italy.
Yuan Ning doesn't have enough money to travel to Europe alone right now; all the salary she's earned so far is barely enough to cover her housing, clothing, and food.
Maintaining a Ferrari also costs a lot of money. The biggest impact of losing her internship at the magazine was that she could no longer rely on borrowing clothes to make a good impression. She had to spend her own money to buy clothes, shoes and bags every month.
If she doesn't dress well, the upper class will still exclude her.
Fortunately, her blog received a comment from Alexander Kiyokawa, which led to more business collaborations for her on social media.
At nine o'clock that night, Yuan Ning received a reply from Elias, who asked her why she went to Italy and told her that he went there for a business negotiation and did not have time to take care of her.
Elias's wording was strictly businesslike, adhering to email format, but the underlying meaning was: "I don't have time for you."
Yuan Ning replied:
"Dear Mr. Van der Berg:
Thank you for taking the time to reply.
Regarding the necessity of the trip to Italy, and out of respect for your time, I would like to state the following reasons:
1. I am currently in charge of the core research project assigned by the professor. The research subject is Casanova, a traditional Italian leather workshop. The key information cannot be obtained by relying solely on publicly available information and remote interviews. I need to go to the workshop in person for 2-3 days to conduct on-site observation and in-depth interviews. This is the only effective way to obtain the above irreplaceable information and formulate a practical and feasible solution rather than just theoretical discussions.
2. Your business trip to Italy coincides with my research destination. Traveling with you on your flight would significantly reduce the time (approximately 24 hours round-trip flight + layover) and financial costs I would otherwise incur if I were to arrange my own international travel (economy class airfare, local transportation, secure accommodation, etc., estimated at a minimum of $2,500 USD). This expense currently exceeds my personal research budget.
3. I fully understand and respect the tight schedule and importance of your business trip. I hereby solemnly promise to act independently and will not take up your or your team's time and resources at any stage.
4. Finally, as you know, we have some personal relationship, so it is perfectly reasonable for me to make this request to you.
So Elias, could you please take me with you?! Please, please, please!
Sincerely,
Wynne Meng
——
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