The sickly one in F4 was the group's darling.

Bai Ci moved to a different spot, nestled on the soft sofa, and reopened the manual, becoming engrossed in reading it.

He turned to Chapter 5, "Behavioral Changes During Molting," and was reading, "Three days before molting, Momo becomes lethargic, eats less, and likes to soak in the water basin." He couldn't help but think to himself, "This snake lives quite a life."

dong dong——

A crisp knock sounded on the door.

Uncle Chen stood outside the door, his tone respectful and gentle: "Young Master."

Bai Ci looked up at the sound, got up and opened the door.

Uncle Chen stood at the door, holding a cup of freshly brewed honey lemon water.

"The fashion designer you arranged with the young master a few days ago has arrived. He was supposed to come earlier this morning, but you weren't feeling well the other day, so we rescheduled it for today." Uncle Chen handed over a water glass, his tone gentle. "The young master specifically instructed me before leaving this morning to take his measurements while he's feeling well, so we don't have to go through the hassle of getting his measurements taken when it gets cold in winter. The designer is already waiting downstairs."

Bai Ci was slightly taken aback, then remembered that on the night of the family banquet, when Uncle Chen took him to the dressing room to change clothes, he did mention that his elder brother had arranged for a designer to tailor a complete set of clothes for him. Later, with the banquet, the fainting, and the emergency room visit, he had long forgotten about the matter.

Unexpectedly, my older brother remembered it and even rearranged things for him.

After all, the group has so many things to do, and I'm just a sick person, so I only need enough clothes.

Uncle Chen seemed to see through his thoughts, and said in a gentle but solemn tone: "The young master specifically instructed that none of your matters should be neglected."

"...Okay." He took the water glass from Uncle Chen, took a small sip, and felt the sweetness of honey and the refreshing aroma of lemon blend together, warmly sliding down his throat. "I'll change my clothes and come down right away."

"No rush, take your time packing. The second and third young masters are downstairs." Uncle Chen's lips curved slightly.

"Are your second and third brothers here too?"

"Yes. The two young masters were having tea in the living room, so I'll join them."

A bad feeling welled up in Bai Ci's heart. The sight of his third brother's mouth and his second brother's ice sculpture sitting together chatting with the designer—it just didn't feel right.

He got up, changed into a neat coat, and followed Uncle Chen into the living room.

The atmosphere in the living room was more subtle than he had imagined.

The designer, Wen Jingyao, is a world-class independent couture designer who has served several prominent families for many years and is used to the grandeur of the wealthy. But today, from the moment he sat down, he felt a chill run down his spine.

No wonder he was nervous.

There were two people sitting opposite him.

On the single sofa to the right, Bai Luochen held a cup of tea, his slender fingers supporting the bottom of the cup. His pale, thin wrist peeked out from the cuff of his dark gray thin sweater. His posture seemed casual, yet the low pressure emanating from him made people afraid to approach. He hardly spoke, only occasionally glancing down to turn a page of the academic journal in his hand. The rustling sound of the pages turning was particularly clear in the quiet living room, and with each page turned, Wen Jingyao's heart skipped a beat.

In the very center of the sofa, Bai Jiheng sat with his legs crossed, one hand resting on the back of the sofa, the other flipping through a fabric brochure, his head tilted to the side. He was looking at it very carefully, his brows slightly furrowed, his expression as serious as if he were reviewing a multi-billion dollar merger and acquisition contract.

Wen Jingyao held his breath, waiting for him to speak.

He'd been there for almost half an hour. Bai Jiheng had been flipping through nearly twenty pages of his fabric catalog, pausing on each page to ask a few questions: "What's the composition ratio?" "What's the abrasion resistance rating?" "Is there a breathability test report?" "Will this color shift under natural light?" "Will this fabric shrink after washing?"

Every word made Wen Jingyao feel like he was sitting on pins and needles. He immediately made a judgment: this was not a spoiled young master who only knew how to spend money.

He answered each question one by one, and the back of his shirt was already soaked with sweat.

"Designer Wen, my brother has fair skin, so he can pull off light colors, but nothing too flashy. He wore a matte white knit sweater to a banquet before, and it looked great. You can take inspiration from that style."

Wen Jingyao nodded repeatedly and quickly took notes on the tablet.

"Also, the fabric has to be soft, the kind that's worn next to the skin. His skin is prone to allergies, so stiff fabrics won't do." Bai Jiheng crossed his legs, speaking casually, but his requirements were increasingly detailed. "Prepare several coats; he gets cold easily, so it'll be convenient to layer them when the seasons change."

"Yes, yes, Third Young Master, don't worry, I've got it."

"By the way, he likes light colors, but dark colors are okay sometimes—they make him look healthier. Just avoid anything too somber, as he's already thin, and all black would make him look even more frail."

Wen Jingyao wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Bai Jiheng thought for a moment and added, "Oh, and also, don't make the cuffs too tight. His wrists are thin, and he probably doesn't like being constricted. The cuffs of that cardigan from last time were just right; you can take that measurement."

"Yes, Third Young Master, you've thought this through very well..."

Wen Jingyao wore a professional smile as he took notes.

"Third Young Master," he began tentatively, "the fabric you have here is a newly developed cashmere blend this year, with 85% cashmere and the remaining 15% mulberry silk. It's soft to the touch and won't itch when worn next to the skin. The color is light misty gray, which complements the skin tone and enhances the complexion. I think it's very suitable—perfect for young gentlemen to wear every day."

He had intended to say "suitable for young masters," but swallowed the words back and changed it to "young masters." He suddenly realized he hadn't yet met the legendary young master. With the eldest young master invited and the second and third young masters personally overseeing things, just who was this young master? He dared not address him rashly.

Bai Jiheng hummed in agreement, turned the page, and looked at the next page.

While he was turning the page, Wen Jingyao quickly stole a glance at Bai Luochen on the single sofa next to him.

This second young master has only said three sentences since he entered the room.

The first sentence is: "Don't use fabric that's too thin, it's cold."

The second sentence is: "Mainly light colors, his skin is fair."

The third sentence is: "The buttons on the cuffs are made detachable so they can be easily rolled up."

And that was it; he kept his head down, engrossed in the journal the whole time. Bai Luochen would occasionally glance up, his eyes sweeping over the edge of the journal, but his gaze was indifferent and cold, like a gust of wind sneaking in through a crack in a door in winter—chilling and sending shivers down one's spine.

Wen Jingyao had been in this business for twenty years and had seen countless picky clients, but being watched by two young masters from the Bai family inspecting fabrics at the same time was a first for him. He felt like he wasn't tailoring clothes for a teenager, but rather undergoing a qualification check.

Bai Jiheng pulled out another sheet of material, his brows furrowing: "This won't do."

Wen Jingyao took a closer look and saw that it was a sky-blue pure cotton color, soft and skin-friendly, suitable for wearing next to the skin.

"What's wrong with this fabric? Is there something wrong with it?"

Bai Jiheng pointed to the fabric specification sheet: "The shrinkage rate is three percent. It will shrink by an inch after two washes. You expect him to wear it as cropped pants?"

Wen Jingyao silently crossed out the "shrinkage rate of three percent" in his mind and decided to permanently remove this fabric from the recommended list when he got back.

At this moment, Bai Luochen, who had been silent all along, put down the journal, looked up, and said calmly, "Ji Heng."