Chapter 11 She had no idea how pitiful she was…
Fortunately, Yuan Ning's troubles soon disappeared. After enjoying the full-price salad, Yuan Ning turned on her computer and received an interview opportunity from V magazine.
She can now do more than one internship at a time; if she could have two internships, she could save up more money quickly.
To establish herself in this industry, she needs to buy new clothes and shoes every season. Besides, she really can't be without a Chanel piece; women need Chanel when they reach a certain age.
Working for Elias for a week was enough for her to buy two Chanel handbags.
If she could take on two internships, she could not only move out of Williamsburg quickly, but also buy new clothes from boutiques every month, which would better conceal the fact that she was already bankrupt.
She communicated the interview time with the other party on the computer and set it for 2 pm tomorrow. Fortunately, it did not conflict with her work in Elias.
Theodora required her to go to Van der Berg’s house before 9 p.m. every night to help Elias choose his outfit for the next day and iron it properly. After learning Elias’s schedule for the following week, she would roughly think about the style of his outfit for each day in advance and make fine adjustments every night. This did not take her too much time.
This way, she still has plenty of time during the day to complete her studies and work for V magazine.
On Monday at noon, girls were having lunch at Balthazar restaurant.
Yuan Ning was going to a magazine interview later, and besides, she really needed to connect with the girls, so she didn't make an excuse to avoid lunch today.
Emily has recently been enjoying lime juice with cod, while Yuan Ning still only has a salad in front of her.
"Wynne, isn't it a bit too much for you to be doing two internships at the same time?"
As Emily gracefully separated the snow-white cod fillets with her silver knife, she looked up and her gaze fell concernedly on Yuan Ning's face.
Emily seemed to be in high spirits about her new internship, wearing a smart black velvet padded-shoulder suit and with more refined makeup than usual.
In comparison, Yuan Ning, who had been struggling financially for days, looked much more sallow. Upon closer inspection, one might notice that Wynne's once well-maintained hair was beginning to show signs of dryness and split ends...
"How could that be? You know I'm always full of energy, this is nothing, it's just... the thought of interning at V magazine and maybe even having the chance to meet top celebrities and brand leaders makes me incredibly excited!"
Yuan Ning put down her fork, and her dark eyes were instantly ignited, sparkling with longing.
Her voice unconsciously rose a little, carrying a light, almost soaring rhythm. She even leaned forward slightly, grasping the hands of several friends to share in the joy of burning incense.
"Just imagine, maybe one day I'll push open the studio door and find Gisele Bündchen sitting inside, fresh from walking the runway for Tom Ford! Or, I might overhear editors discussing Karl Lagerfeld's inspiration for the next season in the break room!"
Amanda, who was struggling with the roast chicken with her knife and fork, put them down and exclaimed, "Oh my god! Wynne! Doesn't that mean you get first-hand information about the fashion shows? Can you save me a seat at any of Karl Lagerfeld's shows in the future?"
Emily pursed her lips casually, seemingly thinking it was no big deal.
Stella raised an eyebrow, throwing cold water on the situation: "Wynne only received an interview invitation, she hasn't actually started working here, Amanda, calm down."
Yuan Ning also seemed to calm down: "You're right, I shouldn't be too happy too soon."
Stella smiled and winked at her: "Go for it, Wynne!"
Yuan Ning lowered her head and continued to enjoy her chicory salad. The chicory still tasted bitter, but the thought of her bright future made it less bitter. She could even feel a warm, hopeful energy surging in her chest.
She mentally reassured herself to eat: "Princess Wynne, you are the best, and all difficulties can be overcome!"
She swallowed gently, and suddenly felt a dry, itchy sensation deep in her throat, as if tiny feathers were scratching it.
In the warm and inviting restaurant, this discomfort became even more pronounced. She began to feel a slight dizziness, and her temples throbbed slightly.
She must have caught a chill on her way back from the Van der Berg house last night. The Van der Berg mansion was so warm and cozy, but in the early winter night wind of New York, her coat was as thin as a sheet of paper. To save on transportation costs, she walked a long way to the subway, letting the cold wind penetrate the fabric without any obstruction.
After lunch, she said goodbye to her friends and headed to the V magazine office, which was only two blocks away.
She took a few deep breaths of the cold air, trying to clear her mind.
She is very healthy and rarely gets sick; even exposing her bare legs in the snow won't make her sick.
Yuan Ning didn't know what was wrong with her. Perhaps the stress and anxiety she had been experiencing recently had weakened her immune system.
She definitely needs a break now, since the incident happened.
Unfortunately, there was no chance for her to rest here; she didn't even have a chance to show weakness.
As she stood in the gleaming elevator of the magazine office, fixing her appearance in front of the bright mirror, her cheeks were flushed more vividly than any blush. She frowned, took out a powder compact from her handbag, and carefully pressed down the blush with a powder puff.
With a "ding," the elevator doors opened smoothly to both sides, revealing her slender yet powerful back, her swan-like neck elegant and resolute. A confident smile, practiced countless times, graced her face; she was flawless from head to toe.
“Wynne Meng, interview for internship editorial assistant at 2 PM.” Yuan Ning tried to keep her voice steady, ignoring the dryness and itchiness in her throat and the increasingly noticeable throbbing pain in her temples.
The receptionist handed her a temporary access card: "Turn right, the third glass conference room, Ms. Marjorie Winters is waiting for you."
Yuan Ning clutched the thin access card, feeling its immense weight. Every step she took towards the conference room felt like walking on clouds, waves of dizziness washing over her.
She forced herself to concentrate and observe her surroundings:
An assistant stumbled by carrying a clothes rack half her height, laden with the season's Chanel tweed jackets; another was arguing on the phone in fluent French with someone in Paris; trunks, shoe boxes, and jewelry waiting to be photographed were piled up in the corners like plastic toys.
A smile gradually spread across Yuan Ning's face. She liked it here.
She pushed open the glass conference room door. Inside sat a silver-haired woman in a sleek black Albert Ferti dress and a multi-layered pearl necklace. Marjorie Winters looked up, her gaze devoid of any pleasantries, directly gesturing for Yuan Ning to sit down.
“Wynne, tell me, what makes you think you can survive here?”
Yuan Ning took a deep breath, suppressing her physical discomfort, and tried her best to speak clearly, but the rising heat in her body caused her thoughts to occasionally falter.
The other party clearly didn't want to hear these words.
“This isn’t a place for pampered young girls to gild their resumes. It’s brutal here. I’ve seen your profile, a well-off Chinese girl, a top student at Parsons. Tell me, what makes you think you can endure this kind of hardship, instead of sipping champagne in boutiques and getting internship experience like your classmates?”
Yuan Ning was almost overwhelmed by the pressure Marjorie was deliberately putting on her, but the damp smell of the Williamsburg cubicle and the filth of the subway station were also rushing towards her.
I cannot fall down, I absolutely cannot fall down at this moment.
She forced herself to meet Marjorie's gaze, and in those dark eyes, which were even more shimmering with tears from the fever, a flame almost obsessive was burning.
Her voice was slightly hoarse due to the dryness and itchiness in her throat, but it was exceptionally clear.
“Because I want more than just an internship, Ms. Winters, I want a voice.” She paused, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. “I mean, the right to define ‘beauty,’ not just to consume it. The champagne in boutiques is certainly delicious, but those things can be obtained by begging a man to spend money.”
She took a small breath, suppressing another wave of dizziness: "I want to see the pinnacle of the entire fashion industry. I crave a voice, Ms. Winters."
A brief silence fell over the meeting room, with only the faint background noise of New York City outside the window.
Marjorie Winters is the woman at the heart of power at V magazine. She can define the visual style and fashion direction of the next issue. Whichever designer she promotes becomes the trendsetter for the next season.
Yuan Ning was scrutinized by her for a long time; perhaps it was the longing in her eyes that moved the other party.
"Starting tomorrow, report to me at 7:00 AM. Don't be late. Send your class schedule to my email. I need you to be here on call during weekdays, excluding classes. Your salary is $500 a week, depending on your position. Of course, you can borrow coats and shoes from the storage room anytime; it's a perk of working here."
Yuan Ning breathed a sigh of relief and signed her name on the contract almost without hesitation.
“Very good.” Ms. Winters took back the form. “Now, go out and get some medicine. You look like you need rest. I don’t want to see you looking like this tomorrow.”
Only when her back was pressed against the cold corridor wall did Yuan Ning allow herself to close her eyes briefly, feeling the dizziness of the spinning world and the burning heat inside her body.
The next part of the time, she needed to take the subway to Van der Berg’s house to finish her work.
Theodora offered her a salary of $3,000 a week, which was much higher than the salary offered by the magazine. While the job at the magazine was something she could have earned through her own abilities and hard work, the job of Elias's style consultant was definitely obtained through a large part of luck and a combination of coincidences.
Yuan Ning must cherish this opportunity and treat this job with the utmost professionalism.
She opened her eyes. The weather in New York City was gloomy, but she could smell the dozen or so expensive perfumes mixed in with the magazine office.
After leaning against the wall for about a minute, Yuan Ning took out a small bottle of vitamin C tablets from her handbag and swallowed two dry, hoping to find some relief.
At 6:40 p.m., all the white-collar workers left the skyscrapers and pedestrians hurried along the streets. She got off the subway two blocks away from the Van der Berg mansion and walked quickly, the cold wind penetrating her thin coat once again.
Before stepping through the black oak door, she stopped, took out a small mirror, and checked her appearance one last time to make sure everything was presentable.
When the maid opened the door for her, and the warm aroma of cedar, white tea, and wine enveloped her, she almost burst into tears.
It was warm and quiet here, and the maid brought her hot milk.
Unfortunately, she wasn't a guest seeking refuge; she was here to work.
Theodora was sitting on the sheepskin sofa in the living room reading a book. When she saw her, she smiled and said, "Elijas is in the study. His schedule for next week has been adjusted, and he needs to keep it in sync with yours."
“Okay, Theodora, I’ll be right there.”
Yuan Ning turned and walked towards the study, each step landing on the soft, expensive Persian carpet. Her steps felt light, as if she were walking on clouds. She reminded herself to persevere a little longer, so that once she finished her work, she could return to her cubicle in Williamsburg and get some rest.
Thinking of that man, her employer, a smile spread across her face.
She pushed open the door and saw Elias standing by the window talking on the phone. He was wearing a light gray cashmere sweater, which made his back look straight and his chest look broad. He looked very warm, and Yuan Ning would bet no woman wouldn't want to bury herself in him.
He turned around when he heard the door open.
At that moment, Yuan Ning mobilized all the muscles in her face and revealed a flawless, sweet smile.
"Good evening, boss. I'm here."
Her voice unconsciously tightened, as if it had its own will. It didn't sound very professional, but rather delicate and sweet without being forced, with a touch of soft nasal tone. She didn't know that her face was still flushed, a blush that the powder couldn't hide.
She was unaware of how pitiful she was, or perhaps she was consciously seeking pity. After all, she was ill.
A note from the author:
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