Rebirth of the Fashion King

Six o'clock in the afternoon.

The clock at 31 Cambon Street had just struck its sixth chime.

Li Xun folded the design drafts and put them into a black folder. Virginie had already left, and Karl Lagerfeld had a dinner party tonight, so he left the studio early at four o'clock in the afternoon. Therefore, he was the only one left to check the last batch of fabric samples for the 2009 Autumn/Winter collection.

Cashmere, silk, taffeta, lace. He remembers the weight, weave, and origin of every piece of fabric clearly.

For four years, he has maintained this habit since the first day he stepped into this building at the age of nineteen: he remembers details that others cannot, and he does things that others find troublesome.

Karl Lagerfeld once told him that there are no geniuses in the fashion industry, only people who are more meticulous than others.

Li Xun locked the folder in the drawer and picked up his coat.

Go down the stairs.

Footsteps echoed between the mirrors.

There weren't many customers in the flagship store. At six o'clock in the evening, the sky in Paris began to darken, and the lights in the shop windows lit up one by one.

There was a girl standing at the cashier.

She had her back to him.

She had long, straight, black hair that fell over her shoulders.

  

She was wearing a simple white dress without any logos, with a well-tailored cut that looked like the work of some niche designer. She was at least 1.7 meters tall and stood there with her back very straight.

Li Xun paused for a moment.

That back view... looks familiar.

He continued walking, passing the handbag section, the jewelry display cases, and the accessories section, getting closer and closer to that figure.

The girl is paying the bill.

She tilted her head slightly, listening to the cashier speak, nodding occasionally in a very soft voice, so Li Xun couldn't hear what she was saying.

Then she lowered her head and signed the receipt. Her fingers were very white and long, and her nails were neatly trimmed without any nail polish.

Just then.

The girl finished signing and looked up.

Li Xun's breathing paused for a moment.

Time seemed to slow down at that moment.

Her skin was so white it was almost transparent, like the finest mutton fat jade, without any flaws.

Her eyebrows were natural willow-leaf eyebrows, unpainted, and lightly colored. Her eyes were large, classic phoenix eyes, with slightly upturned corners and dark brown pupils, like a deep pool of water. Her nose was straight with a high bridge, yet the tip was delicate and just right.

The lips are perfectly shaped, with a thin upper lip and a full lower lip, and are a natural light pink color.

What's most precious is that kind of temperament.

Quiet.

Ethereal.

They seem to have stepped out of a traditional Chinese ink painting, untouched by worldly concerns.

She just stood there, doing nothing and saying nothing, and all the light in the space seemed to be drawn to her.

The crystal chandeliers in the flagship store, the spotlights in the shop windows, and the streetlights on the street all shone on her.

Li Xun stood still, motionless.

Memories of my past life came rushing back.

The Return of the Condor Heroes. Little Dragon Girl. Dressed in white, she stands in the ancient tomb in Zhongnan Mountain, her eyes cold and detached, seemingly unaware of the ways of the world.

Back then, he would sit in front of the TV every night just to see her appear. In most parts of China, everyone knew her as Little Dragon Girl, and everyone was amazed by the girl's beauty.

Then came *Chinese Paladin*. Zhao Ling'er, the princess of Nanzhao Kingdom, innocent and carefree. That year, the drama became a nationwide sensation. Video stores on the streets were playing *Sha Po Lang*, and many boys had stickers of her on their notebooks.

Then there's *Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils*. Wang Yuyan. The fairy-like beauty. Standing amidst the flowers of Mantuo Manor, she turns her head and smiles, and all the spring scenery of Jiangnan pales in comparison.

Li Xun had seen her on television countless times.

But the woman on TV is completely different from the real person in front of me.

The camera can be deceiving.

Television screens can compress facial features, smooth out the texture of skin, and dilute the aura that can only be felt up close.

Only when you actually stand in front of her, only when the distance between you is less than five meters, only when you look at her face with your own eyes, will you understand what it means to be blessed with natural talent.

Every proportion of this face is perfectly accurate.

Her face has the ideal proportions of three courts and five eyes, with four highs and three lows, perfectly meeting aesthetic standards. But she doesn't have the cookie-cutter "internet celebrity" face; her face has its own unique features and distinctiveness, making her unforgettable after just one glance.

More importantly, it's clean.

In today's entertainment industry, whether domestically or internationally, it's rare to find such innocent eyes.

Most celebrities' eyes reveal desire, ambition, and scheming.

But not in her eyes. Her eyes were clean and clear, like unpolluted lake water.

Liu Yifei seemed to realize that someone was watching her. She turned her head and her gaze fell on Li Xun.

Eyes facing each other.

Her eyes are even more beautiful than on TV; her pupils are bright and deep. When you look into her eyes, you feel like you're being drawn in.

Liu Yifei was also taken aback.

The young designer who went downstairs with Karl Lagerfeld, Li Xun.

She never expected to see him so closely today, face to face.

Li Xunxian came to his senses, took two steps forward, and revealed a gentle smile.

"Hello there."

Li Xun's voice was low, steady, and slightly magnetic.

Liu Yifei realized what was happening, and nodded slightly, her voice soft and gentle: "Hello."

Her voice was exactly the same as on TV—soft, sweet, and very pleasant to listen to.

"My name is Li Xun, and I work here."

"I know, I asked the clerk."

Li Xun smiled and said, "Really? What did they say about me?"

"I'm telling you, you're really amazing." Liu Yifei looked at him intently. "You came to Chanel at nineteen and even designed the Himalayas collection."

"Just lucky," Li Xun said calmly. "I just happened to be there."

"It's not luck." Liu Yifei shook her head. "Being able to design such a work is definitely not luck."

She spoke very seriously, not as if she were just being polite; she genuinely believed it.

Li Xun looked at her, a strange feeling welling up inside him. The person he could only see on television in his past life was now standing in front of him, talking to him, knowing his name, and even appreciating his designs.

"Are you here in Paris for tourism?" Li asked.

"I guess so." Liu Yifei paused for a moment. "My father works here, so I'm coming to stay for a while."

"Mr. An?" Li Xun blurted out.

Liu Yifei was stunned: "You know my father?"

"Who doesn't know the director of the Confucius Institute?" Li Xun smiled. "Many Chinese people around Cambon Street know him."

Actually, he knew this in his past life: An Shaokang, Liu Yifei's father, the director of the Confucius Institute in Paris, a senior scholar—these were all things that were later written in entertainment news.

Liu Yifei smiled and said, "I see."

She looks even more beautiful when she smiles; she has two small dimples at the corners of her mouth, her eyes curve into crescents, and she reveals her white teeth.

"By the way, my name is Liu Yifei, Crystal Liu."

After she finished speaking, she looked at Li Xun, waiting for his reaction. Most Chinese people would show a surprised expression when they heard this name, and then say, "So it's you," "I've seen your shows," "You're the Little Dragon Girl."

But Li Xun did not.

He simply looked at her quietly, his gaze calm, and then slowly spoke, his voice clear and deliberate:

"They chase each other idly all day, flying even without wind. Liu Yifei, what a beautiful name."

Liu Yifei was stunned.

This was the first time she had heard someone else interpret her name in this way.

They idly chase each other all day long, flying even without wind.

Her name is Liu Yifei, also known as Yifei.

How did he know it could be explained that way?

Moreover, it was blurted out without any thought.

It was as if he had planned it all along.

Looking at the young man in front of her, Liu Yifei had a strange feeling. He looked to be only in his early twenties, about the same age as her, but his eyes and his temperament far exceeded his age.

Calm and composed.

There's another kind of... very special gentleness.

"Thank you." After a long while, she finally uttered those two words softly, her face slightly flushed.

"You're welcome," Li Xun smiled. "It's a good name to begin with."

Just then, the cashier handed over the packaged item, a small Chanel shopping bag. Liu Yifei took it.

"What did you buy?" Li Xun asked casually.

"A lipstick," Liu Yifei said, "and a bottle of perfume, a gift for my mom. She'll be here tomorrow."

"No. 5?"

"Hmm." Liu Yifei nodded. "A classic style, you can't go wrong with it."

"A wise choice, Chanel perfume No. 5 is always worth buying."

"Do you think so too?"

"Of course," Li Xun said. "It's been almost a hundred years since 1921, and it's still a classic. It's not because it's the best, but because it's the most balanced. No matter the occasion or your personality, you can't go wrong with No. 5. That's the power of a classic."

Liu Yifei listened attentively and nodded. She didn't understand this very well, but Li Xun's explanation was very professional and interesting.

"Are you going back?"

"Hmm." Li Xun glanced out the window. "It's getting dark."

"Want to take a walk together?"

Liu Yifei hesitated for a moment before blurting it out.

She and he had only known each other for less than ten minutes.

But for some reason, she had no defenses against this man. His eyes were clean and sincere, without the desire and evasiveness that men often showed when looking at her.

"Okay." Li Xun nodded gently.