Rebirth of the Fashion King

At six o'clock in the afternoon, the twilight of Cambon Street slanted in through the windows.

Li Xun put the last document into the folder.

The old lady was standing in front of her worktable, organizing her manuscripts. Her movements were unhurried, and her hands, wearing black gloves, carefully gathered the sketches one by one and put them into a crocodile-skin folder.

Virginia was tidying up her worktable, arranging the color swatches by color scheme, and putting the scissors, ruler, and tape back in their places.

"You really don't have any ideas at all?" Virginie asked without looking up.

"I think so." Li Xun put the pencil back into the pencil holder.

"Then why don't you say so?"

"Because every name I mention will ultimately become my responsibility. If I choose the right one, it's because the Paris headquarters made a wise decision; if I choose the wrong one, it's because my judgment was flawed."

Virginia chuckled: "Is this the most important thing you learned during your years at Chanel?"

"This is the second most important."

"What is the most important thing?"

"Don't reveal your hand when you have no chips."

"Wow, what a smart kid!"

  

Karl Lagerfeld walked over from the other end of the workbench, his sunglasses already back on. He paused as he passed Li Xun and tapped Li Xun's shoulder with the corner of his folder.

"Two days, name."

"If I can't think of a suitable one..."

"You'll figure it out," the old lady interrupted him, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"You just haven't thought about it seriously yet. You've rejected one option, but that doesn't mean you've completed a task. What I need is another option, not your aesthetic judgment."

Li Xun remained silent.

"He grew up in China, studied design in London, and worked in haute couture in Paris," Karl Lagerfeld said, turning to Virginie.

"If Chanel is looking for someone who understands the Chinese face, there is no one more suitable than him in this building. This is not a task I gave him; it is his position that dictates what he should do."

Virginia glanced at Li Xun, her eyes filled with both sympathy and amusement: "You're right, Rhine, you really can't escape this."

Li Xun put the last marker into the pen holder: "I understand."

"Very good." The old lady turned and walked towards the door.

"I'm off work now. I don't want to look at anything work-related today."

The three of them walked out of the creative studio together. The corridor on the third floor was covered with a beige carpet, and the mirror on the wall reflected their figures. Karl Lagerfeld walked in front, his silver ponytail standing out against his black suit. Virginia and Li Xun were slightly behind, one on the left and one on the right.

When she reached the top of the stairs, the old lady stopped.

Mirror staircase.

Karl Lagerfeld stood at the top of the stairs and habitually glanced down.

"She's still here."

Virginia and Li Xun exchanged a glance but neither responded.

Everyone in this building knows who the "she" the old lady was referring to is.

Go down the stairs.

The mirrored staircase is narrow, with light-colored stone steps and dark leather handrails.

The three people walked down one after another, and the sound of their footsteps created a strange echo effect in the mirrored space, as if each step was magnified several times.

There weren't many customers in the flagship store. A few well-dressed ladies were selecting jewelry in front of the display cases near the mirrored staircase. Two saleswomen stood at a suitable distance, their demeanor elegant and restrained.

An elderly woman wearing a pearl necklace was looking through a camellia brooch in the accessories section. A young girl, who appeared to be her daughter or granddaughter, stood next to her.

Two other customers were standing in the handbag section.

A woman who looked to be in her thirties was looking at a classic lambskin flap bag from behind. Standing next to her was a dark-haired girl who looked to be in her early twenties, carrying a new shopping bag and looking like she had already bought some things.

As Karl Lagerfeld and his party descended the mirrored staircase, a subtle change occurred in the air inside the store.

The female sales staff were the first to notice.

They did not show any excessive reaction; people working on Cambon Street are trained to maintain a professional composure, but their posture became even more upright and their gaze even more focused for a moment.

The salesperson introducing the jewelry to the customer continued her explanation almost without pausing, only lowering her voice slightly, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Then there are the customers.

The old woman who was looking at the brooch looked up, her gaze passing over the frame of her reading glasses and landing on the silver-haired figure wearing sunglasses. Her gaze stopped in mid-air, her fingers still holding the camellia brooch.

Karl Lagerfeld walked slowly through the boutique's aisles.

He didn't look at anyone, nor did he deliberately avoid looking at anyone. His posture was a precise, intermediate state. He knew everyone was watching him, and he allowed himself to be watched, but he wouldn't change his rhythm because of anyone's gaze. This was the physical memory he had developed over the years at the top of the industry.

Virginia walked half a step behind him on the left, whispering something with a laugh. Karl smiled and tilted his head slightly, without stopping.

Li Xun was more relaxed than the old lady and Virginie. At twenty-three, he was a newcomer in any industry, but he had been in this building for four years.

He didn't have the natural aura of Karl Lagerfeld, nor the precise elegance of a Parisian woman like Virginie, but if you looked closely into his eyes, you would find that something was a little off about this young man.

Those eyes were so quiet.

It wasn't an introverted quiet, nor a shy quiet, but a quiet that transcended age, almost a seasoned quiet.

The way he looked at things wasn't like someone in their early twenties. Young people in their early twenties usually look at the world with a sense of novelty, aggression, or unease. But he didn't.

When he looks at things, it's like he's filing an archive. Every detail that enters his field of vision is quickly categorized, marked, and stored before he looks at the next detail.

This kind of look is usually seen in people who have been working in this industry for at least twenty years.

But Li Xun was only twenty-three years old.

The appearance of these three people, well, you can tell at a glance that this is a small team with a clear hierarchy but a close relationship.

Karl Lagerfeld was undoubtedly the core player; the way he walked told everyone that he was the biggest here.

Virginia was the second-in-command, and her position was just within Karl's reach so that they could talk at any time. Their conversations were natural and smooth; they were colleagues and partners.

Li Xun's position was not on the periphery, but more like the last seat in this team. He did not need to take the primary responsibility, nor did he participate in core decisions, but he was in the room, he was listening, and he was being trusted.

The image of these three people walking through the boutique is hard to describe accurately in words.

If you were a customer who walked into the Chanel flagship store at 31 Rue Cambon at 6 p.m. on a May day in 2009, what kind of scene would you see?

You will see three people coming down the mirrored staircase. They are all dressed in dark colors. Karl Lagerfeld is the most formal in his black suit and white shirt. Virginia is wearing a black fitted dress, and Li Xun is wearing a white shirt and black trousers.

The way they walked down that famous, mirrored spiral staircase was as if they were stepping from the past of this old house into the present.

As Karl Lagerfeld passed by the jewelry display case, the elderly woman looking at the brooches spoke gently, "Good evening, Karl."

The old lady paused, turned her head, pointed her sunglasses at the old woman, and her lips twitched slightly.

Good evening, madam.

……

Just then.

In the handbag section at the very back of the boutique, a girl looked up.

Wearing a white T-shirt, Liu Yifei picked up a Classic Flap, made of black lambskin with silver buckles. Her fingers traced the diamond pattern, feeling its soft texture. This was her second time visiting 31 Cambon Street.

She came at this time every day for the past two days.

Between 5:30 and 6:00 PM, she would appear on Faubourg Saint-Honoré and Rue Cambon without fail, having shopped at Hermès, Chanel, and Dior stores...

Things are a mess in China.

The rumors about her being transgender continue to circulate, and Song Zude posts new "evidence" on his blog every day, making it sound very convincing, which leads more and more people to believe it.

The controversy over her nationality continues, with some even claiming she is Japanese.

Her blog receives tens of thousands of comments every day. A small portion of them are fans defending her, a large portion are bystanders hurling insults, and some are paid trolls who are just there to insult her for the sake of insulting her.

Her mother told her to come out and relax, not to read online comments, not to respond, and not to give any interviews. It just so happened that her father (An Shaokang) was the director of the Confucius Institute in Paris, so she came to clear her mind.

Paris is very quiet.

Almost no one knows her, no one points at her or talks about her, no one makes up rumors about her online. She can walk alone on the street, visit the Louvre alone, visit the Musée d'Orsay alone, and come to the Chanel boutique alone, without wearing a mask, hat, or sunglasses.

This feels so good.

It was like going back to her childhood, before she became famous, when she was quiet and peaceful. Although she was bullied at school, no one bothered her.

Just as I was about to ask the clerk about the price, I heard footsteps coming from my right rear.

Three people walked over.

The one in the middle is too conspicuous.

Her silver ponytail was meticulously combed back, without a single stray hair. A black suit, perfectly tailored, without a single wrinkle; a white turtleneck shirt, her signature look; black sunglasses covering her eyes; and black leather gloves.

Everyone in the fashion world knows him: Karl Lagerfeld.

The Caesar of fashion, the soul of Chanel and Fendi, the greatest designer of this era.

Liu Yifei's hand paused.

She had certainly seen photos of Karl Lagerfeld in magazines, in the news, and in fashion documentaries, but the real person had a more powerful presence than the photos.

That kind of aura, where you don't need to say a word, just standing there can quiet the entire space down, that kind of kingly aura.

The entire boutique fell silent.

But Liu Yifei's gaze quickly shifted to the young man on the left.

Asian.

Black hair, yellow skin, a typical handsome Eastern man.

He was very young, looking to be in his early twenties, about the same age as her. He wore a white shirt with one button undone at the collar and the cuffs rolled up, revealing his strong forearms.

He's very tall, at least 1.83 meters, with broad shoulders.

He walked with a steady posture, his back straight, his shoulders level, and he was not intimidated or inferior to Karl Lagerfeld at all.

They were laughing.

It's not the polite smile you give to your boss, nor the respectful smile you give to your elders; it's a truly relaxed smile, the kind you give when chatting with friends.

He tilted his head to listen to Karl Lagerfeld speak, nodding occasionally and saying a few words. Virginia smiled beside him and chimed in from time to time.

Liu Yifei's gaze never left him. She'd seen plenty of handsome men and beautiful women in China, but a boy so young with such charisma...

She just watched him, watched him walk out of the boutique with Karl Lagerfeld and Virginie Viard, watched Sebastian open the door for them, watched their figures disappear into the twilight of Rue Cambon, and remained in that position until the glass door slowly closed.

He placed his handbag on his handbag, his eyes fixed on the doorway, and remained motionless.

"Madam?" the shop assistant called softly from the side.

Liu Yifei snapped out of her daze, her face slightly flushed: "Huh?,"

"Would you like me to wrap it up for you?"

"Oh...no, thank you." She put down her handbag and asked somewhat absentmindedly, "May I ask you a question?"

"certainly."

She paused, organizing her French vocabulary, then realized it wasn't enough to answer the question, so she switched back to English: "Three people came downstairs just now. Besides Mr. Karl Lagerfeld, there was that young, dark-haired man. Does he also work here?"

The salesperson's eyebrows twitched slightly, not out of alertness, but out of professional, polite curiosity.

Are you asking about Rhine?

"Rhine?" she repeated the name. What designer would name themselves after a river?

"Mr. Li Xun," the shop assistant said in slightly accented Chinese. "He's a designer at a creative studio."

Designer.

"He looks very young," she said.

"Yes," the sales clerk's voice unconsciously carried a hint of respect. "Rhine joined Chanel when he was nineteen. He's a very talented designer, a graduate of Central Saint Martins, and only twenty-two this year. His twenty-third birthday is just around the corner."

Liu Yifei was stunned: "Twenty-three years old?"

"Yes, he designed the Himalayas series in 2006. You know that series, right? People all over the world are lining up to buy it now."

Of course she knew.

The Himalayas series, those crocodile handbags were sold for over a million yuan each in China last year, and there was no market for them. Many of her friends were asking people to buy them for her. That's the only Chanel product that can compete with Hermès' "three mountains"! It turns out... he designed it.

The Himalayas in Reality Series.

After Li Xun's design for this series became a hit, he did not give any interviews. People outside the industry had no idea that he designed it; most people only knew that he was a designer named Rhine from the Chanel brand.

"Is he Chinese?"

"Yes, he's Chinese." The shop assistant nodded. "Mr. Carl and Ms. Virginia value Rhine highly. He's hardworking and humble, and many employees like him."

Liu Yifei pursed her lips, feeling a strange mix of emotions.