His physiological preference

"Are you nervous?" Qin Yuzheng asked.

"It's alright," Yang Zhiyan said. She clenched her hands on her knees for a moment, then relaxed them.

Qin Yuzheng saw it but didn't expose her. He reached out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

"Go ahead. I'll pick you up tonight."

Yang Zhiyan pushed open the car door and got out. After taking two steps, she turned back.

Qin Yuzheng sat in the driver's seat, the window rolled down halfway, his hand resting on the window as he looked at her. She smiled at him, then turned and drove away.

The registration area is in the lobby on the first floor of the teaching building.

Several tables were arranged in a row, with sign-in sheets and document bags on them.

The staff members, both men and women, sat in the back, wearing matching blue vests and work badges pinned to their chests.

Yang Zhiyan waited in line for more than ten minutes. When it was her turn, she gave her name, the staff checked it, and handed her the document bag.

"Yang Zhiyan, first prize winner in the provincial competition, Haicheng division. Welcome."

Yang Zhiyan took the document bag and was about to leave when a voice came from behind her.

"The Haicheng division?" She turned around. A tall, thin boy stood behind her, wearing a black leather jacket over a white T-shirt and ripped jeans.

Her hair was dark brown, slightly curled, with a few strands hanging down in front, covering half of her forehead.

His features are very defined, with high brow bones, a straight nose, and thin lips, giving him a restless and flamboyant air.

Yang Zhiyan was taken aback. She thought the voice that had just spoken belonged to a female contestant; it was clear and bright, with a neutral quality that made it difficult to discern the gender.

She looked up at the boy in front of her.

"Are you Xu Yun?" Her voice was uncertain.

Xu Yun smiled. "You know me?" His pride wasn't off-putting. "Looks like I'm quite famous."

Yang Zhiyan certainly knew him. Xu Yun, a rising star in the cheongsam design circle in the past two years, was among the top ten in the previous national competition.

His works are lively and elegant, with bold use of color, and he is good at combining traditional elements with modern aesthetics.

Yang Zhiyan had seen several of his works, and each one impressed her.

She had always thought Xu Yun was a woman. The name Xu Yun could be used for both men and women. She had read his works; they were both delicate and bold. Yang Zhiyan had always assumed Xu Yun was a girl.

"Are you Xu Yun?" she repeated.

Xu Yun tilted her head, looked at her, and her smile deepened.

"The real deal. You are..." He glanced down at the file folder in her hand, the name on it facing upwards.

"Yang Zhiyan. Magnolia, moon white, embroidered with white magnolias, butterfly knot at the neckline."

Yang Zhiyan was stunned for a moment. He recited her work from memory. Xu Yun saw her stunned expression and smiled.

"How could I not have seen the first-prize winning entry in the provincial competition?"

Yang Zhiyan opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again.

People came and went in the lobby. Some squeezed past them, dragging suitcases, the wheels making a soft crunching sound as they rolled over the floor tiles.

Xu Yun stood there, relaxed. Yang Zhiyan looked at him; he looked about her age.

"I've seen your work too," she said, her voice a bit more steady than before. "I really liked the 'Peony Pavilion' series from last year's competition."

Xu Yun's lips curled up involuntarily. "The 'Peony Pavilion' performance was from the previous year."

His tone was humble.

The first day of training mainly consisted of the opening ceremony and course introductions.

All the contestants sat in the lecture hall, listening to the organizers explain the arrangements for the month: the first two weeks were for theory and design classes, the next two weeks were for production classes and rehearsals, and the last week was the final.

The classroom was very large, seating more than two hundred people, and it was packed full.

Yang Zhiyan sat by the window, where sunlight streamed in and shone brightly on her notebook.

She wrote a few lines in her notebook, drew a few sketches, and then crossed them out.

Several ideas were clashing in her mind, none of them willing to give way.

After a full day of training, Yang Zhiyan learned a lot.

The lecturers are senior figures in the domestic cheongsam design industry. Some of them speak very slowly and pause several times for each sentence.

Some teachers speak at breakneck speed, as if someone is chasing after them, afraid they won't finish.

Regardless of the style, Yang Zhiyan listened attentively. She discovered that everyone here had great ideas, and each person's work had its own unique style.

In the evening, Qin Yuzheng sent a message: "I'm at the door."

Yang Zhiyan packed her things and walked out of the teaching building.

A black Hongqi car was parked at the entrance, very low-key, blending in with the row of cars and not attracting much attention.

Qin Yuzheng was sitting in the driver's seat. When he saw her get out of the car, he got out, walked around to the passenger side, and opened the door.

Yang Zhiyan got in, and before she even fastened her seatbelt, she started talking.

"One teacher gave a particularly good talk today. He said that the cheongsam is not just a piece of clothing, but a piece of history."

She fastened her seatbelt and continued, "I also met several other people. One of them is from City S. Her embroidery skills are exceptional; she can embroider double-sided patterns on silk. Another one is from City C. Her designs are very imaginative, and her use of color is very bold. I've never seen color combinations like that before."

Qin Yuzheng started the car and drove out of the parking lot. Yang Zhiyan leaned back in her seat, her mouth still moving.

"In the afternoon, the teacher asked us to draw sketches. I drew three versions, but I wasn't satisfied with any of them. The teacher said that my work was technically very good, but my ideas weren't bold enough. She said I was too conservative and always confined myself to a safe zone."

Qin Yuzheng didn't interrupt, just listened to her. Her voice came from the passenger seat, chattering away.

"When making friends, you must pay attention to their character," he said, stopping at a red light and turning to look at her.

"You're competitors. Always be careful."

Yang Zhiyan looked at him. His expression was serious; he wasn't joking.

Yang Zhiyan nodded. "Understood."

That evening, Qin Yuzheng introduced Yang Zhiyan to some of his friends.

The restaurant is located on the top floor of a high-rise building in the CBD, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the night view of Beijing.

There were five or six people who came, both men and women, dressed appropriately and speaking politely.

Some were Qin Yuzheng's childhood friends, some were his colleagues from when he worked in Beijing, and some she didn't remember. But everyone smiled when they saw her and said, "Hello, sister-in-law."

When Qin Yuzheng introduced her, he used very simple words: "My girlfriend, Yang Zhiyan."

His tone was confident.

Yang Zhiyan didn't really get a word in edgewise at the dinner table. They talked about Beijing's recent plans, the approval progress of a certain project, and where someone had been transferred to.

Yang Zhiyan didn't understand, nor did she pretend to understand, and simply lowered her head to eat.

Qin Yuzheng sat next to her, occasionally serving her food, removing fish bones, peeling shrimp shells, placing the spicy dishes in front of himself and pushing the milder ones in front of her.

He did these things with ease and naturalness.

The people at the table saw this, and although they didn't say anything, they were all thinking that Qin Yuzheng was extremely serious about this girlfriend.

He used to be averse to women, and no woman had ever appeared in his life.

Some people say he's not good enough, some say he's too demanding, and some say that's probably how his life will be.

Now a woman is sitting next to him. He peels shrimp for her, removes fish bones for her, and picks food for her.

His eyes always unconsciously looked in her direction, like a spotlight that followed her no matter whether she was in the center of the stage or not.

When the party ended, Qin Yuzheng was chatting with a friend while Yang Zhiyan stood at the restaurant entrance waiting for him.

It was windy in Beijing that night, so she wrapped herself in Qin Yuzheng's coat.

A woman in her thirties, wearing a dark coat, walked out. She had exquisite makeup, her hair was styled in a high bun, revealing a section of her slender neck.

She glanced at Yang Zhiyan, her gaze sweeping from top to bottom and then back up, a meaningful smile playing on her lips.