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SR Chapter 1

 

The flight from Wucheng to Xuancheng took two hours. Despite being on the same latitude, the two cities did not share the same sky.

 

At the end of May, Wucheng was always overcast. Even if it didn’t rain, the sky was perpetually covered by a thick layer of clouds that arrogantly blocked out the sunlight.

 

But Xuancheng was different. The sky was clear and sunny, with the sun shining brightly and the world opened up.

 

As Yu Le stepped off the plane, his feet touching the ground, he took off his thin jacket and draped it over his wrist. The weather was so nice that he couldn’t help but take a deep breath of the air—

 

It was a bit dry.

 

He bought a bottle of water nearby, took a couple of sips, then put his mask back on. Following the signs, he made his way to the baggage claim area, where he stood waiting for his suitcase.

 

Next to him was an elderly man with gray hair. The man’s suitcase was heavy and he struggled a few times without managing to lift it.

 

Yu Le’s phone rang, and he slid to answer it, reaching out with one hand to help the old man.

 

He didn’t expect the box to be heavier than he imagined; he couldn’t lift it with one hand, and his shout of “Hey” dropped in pitch by eight notes.

 

The childhood friend on the other end of the phone laughed and said, “What’s up, Young Master Yu? Are you down on your luck and now carrying sacks at the dock?”

 

A child nearby, holding a lollipop, looked on with curiosity.

 

Yu Le felt embarrassed and calmly slipped the phone back into his pocket. He held his breath and managed to help the old man get the suitcase out.

 

The suitcase hit the ground with a thud, almost landing on his foot.

 

The old man smiled, holding onto the suitcase. 

 

“Thank you, young man.”

 

“No problem.” 

 

Yu Le, trying to save face, resisted the urge to rub his back. 

 

He shook his hand and casually asked, “What’s in here that’s so heavy?”

 

The old man replied, “Stones, for carving.”

 

Yu Le paused: “All of it?”

 

The old man: “Yes, when flying, you have to bring extra, otherwise it’s a loss.”

 

Yu Le: “……”

 

He retrieved his own suitcase and headed towards the exit. As soon as he pressed the phone to his ear, he heard the friend laughing uproariously.

 

Yu Le, irritated, said, “What’s so funny?”

 

Yan Jia was almost out of breath.

 

Yu Le: “I’ll hang up, bye.”

 

“Don’t.” 

 

Yan Jia managed to calm down and cleared his throat, “I’ll stop laughing, okay? Let’s talk about business. Why did you come back so suddenly? Aren’t you staying in Wucheng anymore?”

 

Yu Le passed a trash can and threw his empty water bottle in. “Did you hear about my design draft being rejected?”

 

“Rejected?”

 

Yan Jia was shocked. 

 

Yu Le: “Yeah, just a couple of days ago.”

 

Yan Jia: “But I thought Old Song kept your draft for a long time. We all thought it was settled. Why was it rejected?”

 

Yu Le: “Do you want to hear the reason?”

 

Yan Jia: “What reason?”

 

Yu Le switched to a flat, emotionless tone. “Mr. Yu, I appreciate your talent and creativity. I believe your design will definitely impress me, and indeed, you haven’t disappointed.”

 

Yan Jia was confused: “Isn’t that good?”

 

“However,” Yu Le continued without expression, “the design I want is not just a pure display of designing skills.”

 

Yu Le recounted the feedback with a blank face, “I’m sorry, though you have great talent, I cannot agree with your design philosophy. How can clothing be just a pile of techniques without any human touch or warmth?”

 

The phone was silent for a moment, and even through the line, Yan Jia’s complete loss for words was palpable.

 

Yu Le scoffed derisively, “Isn’t this absurd? I spent two months working day and night, pouring over references, brainstorming, and almost losing half my hair, only to be told it lacks warmth?”

 

Yan Jia awkwardly dragged out, “Ah…”

 

Yu Le: “Yes, you’re a senior, you’re highly respected, you’re experienced and skilled. If you critique my design level, color coordination, or even more serious issues like detail handling, I’d accept it. But to say it’s soulless, without any reason, how am I supposed to accept that?”

 

Yu Le: “I’m drawing a design draft, not creating an art piece for the Louvre. Should the name of the design make a response? Or should I, as a fashion designer, burn incense and take a bath before drawing, then kneel and bow nine times at the end and ask a master to bless it?”

 

When he started talking, it was like a bamboo tube pouring out beans—clearly, Yu Le had been holding a grudge against Mr. Song’s criticisms for a long time.

 

Young people these days have their own ideas, especially someone like Yu Le, who has always been outstanding among his peers.

 

Admitted to a top domestic fashion design academy at seventeen, Yu Le received an offer to study abroad at a prestigious French design school at twenty. He has already won numerous design awards and, by the age of twenty-one, successfully established his own brand, “Fengsheng,” with every new collection eagerly anticipated each quarter.

 

Yu Le’s talent was evident to everyone. His natural ability in this field was something many could only aspire to, and he was well aware of it, as was everyone else.

 

He didn’t let it make him complacent, but it was hard not to have a sense of pride.

 

Mr. Song’s comments were like trampling over something Yu Le had been proud of for years.

 

Unfortunately, Yan Jia, who had no involvement in the fashion industry, was just a thoroughbred science student. He never understood such matters; even during exams, he could fill up the reading comprehension section but still not get half the points.

 

Though he wanted to help Yu Le by cursing out the old man for being pretentious, he was also concerned that there might be some truth to the criticism in this field. So he decided to avoid discussing it.

 

“What does this have to do with you coming back to Xuancheng?”

 

Yu Le had vented his frustrations, and he was somewhat calmer, “Just looking for inspiration.”

 

Yan Jia immediately picked up on it, “So you want to redo the design?”

 

Yu Le: “Why not? Others get their drafts sent back three, four, or five times and still get to redo them. Why can’t I?”

 

Yu Le was displeased but clear-headed.

 

Mr. Song had significant achievements and an exceptional status in the industry. Collaborating on a show with him was a dream for many in the field.

 

Moreover, for someone like Yu Le, who had already established an independent brand, it was a prime opportunity to make a name for himself and solidify his standing in the industry.

 

Yan Jia laughed: “Sure, why not?”

 

He knew Yu Le’s stubborn nature well. Since Yu Le himself was open about it, Yan Jia didn’t need to offer much consolation.

 

Yu Le left the airport, hailed a taxi, placed his luggage in the trunk, and asked Yan Jia, “Where’s the hotel you booked for me? Send me the address.”

 

Yan Jia: “I sent it earlier, check WeChat.”

 

Yu Le opened WeChat, closed the trunk, walked around to the car door, and got in. As soon as the door closed, the driver turned down the radio and, using the Xuancheng dialect, asked where he was going, glancing up at the rearview mirror.

 

The young man who had just gotten in took off his mask and adjusted his hat, revealing a clear, handsome face—extremely attractive.

 

“To Chaoyu Hotel, thank you.” Yu Le folded his mask and put it back in his pocket.

 

Yan Jia: “I’m not very up-to-date, I didn’t know your design draft was rejected until today. But there’s another thing I heard a bit about.”

 

Yu Le, sensing the teasing tone, guessed most of it already.

 

As expected, Yan Jia confirmed his guess, “Has your family been setting you up on blind dates recently? I heard the match is a retired special forces soldier?”

 

Yu Le leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, feeling frustrated, “You’re just here to laugh at me, aren’t you?”

 

Yan Jia: “There’s nothing to laugh about. I think it’s pretty good. I heard he’s the grandson of your grandfather’s old comrade?”

 

Yu Le responded indifferently, not wanting to discuss this topic further.

 

Yan Jia, smart enough to connect the dots, deduced the situation. 

 

“So, Yu Le, you came to Xuancheng to avoid the blind date?”

 

Yu Le: “Brother, can you cut down on the nonsense?”

 

Yan Jia: “Why? Your blind date sounds great. Historically, heroes and beauties make a good match. My advice is to explore it. It might turn out to be a great story.”

 

“Advise my foot.” Yu Le, lowering his voice, said, “You know nothing, do you? If you don’t have anything to say, just shut up. Stop looking for trouble.”

 

“I know, but I don’t understand.”

 

Yan Jia teased, “If it were me, if my white moonlight was getting married, I’d definitely quickly find someone new. After all, the quickest way to forget a relationship is to start a new one.”

 

He paused, then added seriously, “Darling, missing out on a potential lifelong partner for someone who is already impossible is the dumbest choice.”

 

Yu Le retorted, “You’re so high and mighty, and you think you’re great. I’m not as carefree as you, okay?”

 

Yan Jia, calm and collected, shot back, “Yes, that’s correct. I mean, it’s not like I could have feelings for someone I see every day for years without eventually confessing.”

 

After Yan Jia’s comment, there was a long silence on the phone.

 

It was so long that Yan Jia almost thought the call had ended before Yu Le spoke again, “He doesn’t like men. What can I do?”

 

Same-sex marriage was still a recent phenomenon and a novelty to many. The driver, curious, glanced up at the rearview mirror again.

 

The young man in the back seat leaned back, his profile facing the window, his hat brim low enough to cover his eyes and most of his nose, only his straightened lips visible.

 

Combined with his previous calm, matter-of-fact statement, it was clear he was trying hard to hide the underlying frustration.

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