fashion show
Li Fuqiang chose a bed next to the floor-to-ceiling window. Zhiwei was dressed in a striking bright red ski suit, dazzling on the ski slopes. As Li Fuqiang sat down, a figure quietly sat down next to him. "Brother Qiang, why didn't you go skiing?"
Li Fuqiang knew it was Xiaobai's voice without turning around. "What are you doing here?"
Xiao Bai sensed his displeasure and said aggrievedly, "I haven't seen Brother Qiang for two or three months, and I don't dare to go to Beijing. I finally found out Brother Qiang was here, so I couldn't wait to come and see him!"
The snow-capped mountains of Yabuli gleamed with a cold, silvery light under the clear winter sky. Inside the cozy café, Li Fuqiang sipped his hot coffee, watching a fiery red figure leaping across the ski slope outside the window—it was Zhiwei. She was swooping down the advanced slope, her agile movements drawing graceful and confident arcs, attracting many admiring glances from those around her.
Xiao Bai's voice, soft and just the right amount of softness, rang in his ear: "Madam's skiing posture is so beautiful, like a movie star." He sat down next to Li Fuqiang, his body pressed against Li Fuqiang's, his chest brushing against Li Fuqiang's arm.
Li Fuqiang hummed in response, his gaze remaining fixed on the subject, his tone unreadable: "You certainly know how to pick your timing."
Xiao Bai softened her voice, sounding aggrieved, "I dare not offend Madam, so I only come to see you when Madam is having a good time."
Li Fuqiang glanced at him sideways. Xiao Bai was wearing a tight-fitting white turtleneck sweater today, which made his handsome face appear even more striking and youthful. He had indeed become much more "sensible," knowing how to read the room and how to maintain appropriate boundaries, which pleased Li Fuqiang.
"Behave yourself, and you'll always get your share of the benefits," Li Fuqiang said calmly.
Xiao Bai felt slightly relieved, but another layer of unease arose. He could see that Li Fuqiang's satisfaction with this young wife was not just based on her title, but also bordered on admiration, which made him tighten his grip on his fingers. He glanced closer and lowered his voice, "Brother Qiang, I ran into Meizi a few days ago. She asked me about you and said she missed you a lot."
Mei Zi is another lover of Li Fuqiang. She has a voluptuous figure and was met by Li Fuqiang at a massage parlor. She is very willing to be subservient and has a lot of charm. She and Xiao Bai were "old acquaintances".
Xiao Bai observed Li Fuqiang's expression and, seeing that he didn't seem to mind, continued in a coaxing tone, "Meizi said she hasn't seen Brother Qiang in a long time and misses him terribly. She said she's recently learned some new tricks and wants to serve Brother Qiang together, which will surely help him pass the time..." Her voice trailed off, but her hand restlessly moved to the base of Li Fuqiang's thigh.
Upon hearing this, a glint of interest flashed in Li Fuqiang's eyes. He was a man who, in the world of pleasure, was indiscriminate in his pursuit of novelty and excitement. The combination of Xiaobai and Meizi undoubtedly tickled his itch. He patted Xiaobai's leg, a meaningful smile playing on his lips: "You're always full of tricks."
Xiao Bai was secretly pleased, knowing he had made the right move. As long as he could keep Li Fuqiang firmly within his circle, sharing some of the "prey" was no problem.
Zhiwei, oblivious to the undercurrents in the coffee shop, paid no heed. She returned, having thoroughly enjoyed herself, her cheeks flushed and her forehead glistening with sweat, like a plump, juicy peach. Li Fuqiang, unusually gentle, handed her some warm water: "Had enough fun? Be careful not to catch a cold."
Shortly after returning to Beijing, Li Fuqiang, seemingly to make up for the unspoken "debt" or simply to win a smile from the beauty, used his connections in the fashion industry. A prominent editor-in-chief of a domestic fashion magazine personally hosted a fashion show for "Wei Nian," in conjunction with several media outlets.
Upon hearing the news, Shi Ya, Zhi Jun, and others were overjoyed, and the studio was filled with jubilation. For a newly established designer brand, this was an immense honor and an excellent opportunity for exposure. Although Zhi Wei appeared calm on the surface, her heart was also stirred. After all, this was a business she had poured her heart and soul into.
She thanked Li Fuqiang and then plunged into the preparations. She didn't want a showy display of skills that was all show and no substance; she hoped the launch event would clearly convey "Wei Nian's" aesthetic philosophy—to tailor-make the most elegant clothes that best showcase the temperament and story of every unique woman.
She personally selected models, looking not only at their body proportions but also at the personality and story conveyed in their eyes. She re-examined dozens of completed designs, making minor adjustments based on the theme "Rose in the Cracks of Time," and then went into seclusion to rush out five never-before-seen, more artistic finale pieces.
On the night of the press conference, the lights in the show venue, converted from an old factory, gradually dimmed. With the lights off, only the runway remained, resembling a flowing galaxy. Music began, and the models walked out one by one.
There were no exaggerated makeup or elaborate embellishments, only exquisite tailoring, fine fabrics, and ingenious details. The modified version of the "Flower Dream" series, once worn by Mrs. Zhang, won murmurs of admiration; the style designed for Zhao Youlin that accentuated her back curves was worn by the model with a cool and sexy flair; and a series of gowns that used traditional and innovative techniques such as Suzhou embroidery and hot-fix rhinestones were breathtakingly beautiful.
Zhiwei stood in the shadows of the backstage curtain, quietly watching her artwork come to life under the lights. She wore simple black velvet trousers and a white silk shirt, her long hair loosely tied up, with only a pair of small pearl earrings by her ears. Compared to the glittering guests below the stage, she was so unassuming that she didn't seem like the main character, yet she possessed a quiet strength.
In the grand finale, the lighting shifted to a soft, warm gold, and five brand-new designs were presented in succession. The final piece was a floor-length gown titled "Rose Under the Moon." Its base color was a deep, dark blue, with the skirt embroidered with gradient silver threads and crystals depicting large, intertwined, blooming roses. As the wearer moved, it seemed as if moonlight flowed over the flowers, serene yet radiant.
A moment of silence fell over the audience, followed by thunderous applause. The curtain rose, and Zhiwei gracefully walked to the front of the stage. The flashbulbs were as bright as day; she squinted slightly, a polite, yet somewhat aloof smile on her face.
Li Fuqiang sat in the front row, clapping his hands, his gaze towards Zhiwei filled with satisfaction and pride. Several old business friends sat beside him, whispering compliments: "Mr. Li, what a blessing! Your wife is truly beautiful and talented!"
He nodded reservedly, inwardly pleased. This press conference undoubtedly enhanced his prestige. He even felt that Zhiwei, standing under the spotlight and receiving everyone's attention, was his most prized "treasure." He, Li Fuqiang, was not one of those nouveau riche who would casually bring out a posing, pretentious little star.
At the celebratory banquet following the press conference, Zhiwei navigated the guests with impeccable manners. As the night deepened and the guests dispersed, she returned to her studio in Yayuan, took off her high heels, and stepped barefoot onto the cool floor. Outside the window, the city's neon lights illuminated her slightly tired yet exceptionally clear eyes.
Was it a success? Perhaps. But she knew in her heart that this glory was a stage casually bestowed upon her by Li Fuqiang. On the display shelf, the hem of the "Rose Under the Moon" dress was still swaying slightly, the crystals refracting tiny fragments of light. Her fingertips gently brushed over the embroidery, the cool touch reaching deep into her heart.
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