Rebirth of the Fashion King

When Liu Xiaoli put down her phone, the clock in the living room had just struck 11 p.m.

She has been browsing various forums and news comment sections for more than two hours.

Nine hours have passed since the Chanel website updated its website, and the online buzz hasn't died down; in fact, it's only intensified.

The posts on Tianya have reached over 300 pages, and the in-depth report by Xinlang has been forwarded over 100,000 times. The fans of Qianqian's exclusive Tieba are celebrating like it's New Year's Day, turning the comment section of Huayi's official Weibo account into a large-scale thank-you event. The uniform "Thank you, Brother Huayi" made her laugh out loud several times.

She put the computer on the coffee table, rubbed her sore eyes, and finally felt relieved.

The past year has been incredibly difficult.

After the release of "The Forbidden Kingdom", she was ridiculed as a "pretty face" and Hua Chunying was blacklisted. The entire internet was flooded with negative articles, and at the worst time, she dared not let Xixi go online alone.

She, as a mother, saw all the hurtful things those words said, but she didn't dare mention a single word to Qianqian. She could only toss and turn at night, unable to sleep. Later, rumors spread about her private life with Li Xun, saying that Qianqian was with him and so on, making it sound like the truth.

She was really scared at the time.

It's not that I'm afraid those words will be harsh, it's that I'm afraid Xixi won't be able to handle them.

She was just a child when she debuted and became a huge star. Her first fall was such a hard one, crashing straight from the clouds into the mud without any cushioning.

But Sisi held on.

Not only did she weather the storm, but she also met a boy who could solve her problems during her darkest time.

Then everything felt like a dream: Hua Yi apologized, Chanel made an official announcement on its website, Karl Lagerfeld personally invited people to sit in the front row, and the company dominated the trending topics on Chinese social media for nine hours.

Thinking of this, Liu Xiaoli couldn't help but smile again. She looked up, wanting to share this joy with her daughter, but found that Liu Yifei wasn't looking at her phone at all.

She sat on the beige armchair by the window, still wearing her pajamas, her hair half-dry, and holding a piece of paper in her hand.

She had seen that piece of paper before. When Sisi came back from outside, the first thing she did upon entering the room was not to drink water or change her shoes, but to carefully place that piece of paper on her desk, pressing down the corner with a magazine to prevent it from being wrinkled by the wind.

She asked what it was, and Xixi only said, "It was drawn by Li Xun," and didn't say anything more.

She's sitting here now, staring at this piece of paper for almost half an hour.

Liu Xiaoli looked at her daughter without saying a word.

She had seen Sisi spacing out countless times—while waiting for her scene, while riding in a car, and even halfway through a meal.

But it was a blank, unfocused state, with unfocused eyes, as if the person had been so exhausted that their soul had been drained away, leaving only an empty shell sitting there.

During those times, she didn't think about anything; she simply let her mind go blank. This was how she had recovered her energy since she was a child.

But tonight is different.

Her gaze as she looked at the paper wasn't unfocused, it was focused.

  

All her attention was drawn into the lines on the paper, and she was as quiet as a deep pool of water, with undercurrents flowing beneath the surface. Occasionally, her fingers would gently rub the edge of the paper, not as a conscious action, but as an unconscious, involuntary movement.

Liu Xiaoli recognized that look.

She had been married, divorced, loved, and hated; she knew all too well what it was like for a woman to miss a man.

"Sissi".

Liu Yifei did not react.

"Sissi." She raised her voice slightly.

Liu Yifei's shoulders trembled slightly. She came to her senses and looked at Liu Xiaoli, her eyes showing a hint of panic at being caught, but she quickly concealed it.

"What's wrong, Mommy?"

"What are you looking at? You've been looking at it for half an hour."

Liu Yifei subconsciously tried to hide the paper behind her back, but stopped halfway through the action, feeling that the action was too obvious. So she simply and openly placed the paper on her lap.

"It was drawn by Li Xun, in a coffee shop before."

"I know it was drawn by him. You told me when you came back." Liu Xiaoli stood up, walked to her daughter's side, and sat down on the armrest of the sofa.

"show me."

Liu Yifei hesitated for a moment before handing the paper to her.

Liu Xiaoli took it and glanced at it.

She was stunned.

She's not from the fashion industry and knows nothing about haute couture, gowns, or fabrics, but she can judge whether a painting is good or bad without any professional knowledge.

The paper depicts a woman standing sideways.

Wearing a small cylindrical hat with a feather ornament inserted diagonally on the top, he casually placed one hand on his hip, his posture upright.

There's no room for an eraser on the entire painting; every stroke is made directly, crisp and clean. Next to it are instructions for the process written in French, the handwriting small and neat, creating a strange contrast with the smoothness of the hand-drawn lines. The painting is emotional, the annotation is rational, but both come from the same hand.

What caught her attention most was the woman's face.

She only sketched a side profile, thin eyebrows, and a slender neck, without any specific details about the eyebrows and eyes, but that posture, that quiet yet hesitant temperament, was just like her daughter.

It's not just similar in appearance, it's similar in spirit.

"Is this a portrait of you?"

Liu Yifei nodded: "He said it was a spur-of-the-moment drawing, a little gift for me."

Liu Xiaoli glanced at the painting again, then moved her gaze to a line of handwritten words, in the same penmanship but slightly larger than the marked words: The greatest luxury is not having to adjust oneself for others.

She silently repeated the words to herself, then looked up at her daughter.

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing special was said, we just chatted."

"Was this drawing done while you were chatting?"

"Yes." Liu Yifei pointed to the paper. "When it was time to leave, Li asked the waiter for paper and a pen, and then started drawing. He finished it in about ten or twenty minutes."

Liu Xiaoli looked down at the painting in her hand again. Such precision, such control over the lines, such a complete design structure, all done in ten or twenty minutes—it couldn't be explained by the words "can draw".

This is something ingrained in one's bones; it's muscle memory formed after countless training sessions with the hands, eyes, and brain, just like a pianist who doesn't need to look at the keys.

But she cared more about the quality of her paintings than the quality of her work.

What she cared about was that during the ten-odd minutes she spent alone with Xixi for their first coffee, the boy didn't check his phone, didn't look around, and didn't do anything perfunctory.

The painting depicts clothes, but the person in the painting is Sisi.

It's not her face, but her posture, her temperament, and her charm.

When a man looks at a woman, can see these things, and can draw them with his hand, it's not a matter of skill, it's a matter of heart.

"How old is he again? 22?"

"I'll be twenty-three soon."

"He's a little over a year older than you."

"Um."

Liu Xiaoli returned the painting to her daughter, stood up, and walked back to her seat. She didn't speak immediately but picked up the water glass on the coffee table and took a sip, as if she was organizing her thoughts.

"Sissi, tell Mom the truth, do you... have feelings for him?"