His physiological preference

"Sure," she said lightly.

She put down the dust bag, took out her phone from her apron pocket, opened the WeChat QR code, and handed it over.

Qin Yuzheng also took out his phone and scanned the code.

beep.

He glanced at the screen; it was Zhiyan, with a magnolia flower avatar.

passed.

As he put his phone away, he lightly pressed his thumb against the outside of his pocket, a feeling of delight washing over him.

"Then I'll be going now," he said.

"Take care." Yang Zhiyan nodded slightly.

Qin Yuzheng turned around, carrying the dust bag, and paused at the door. He wanted to look back and see if she was still standing there, if she was still looking at him.

I held back.

Qin Yuzheng opened the driver's side door and got in, placing the dust bag on the passenger side. He glanced down at it as he fastened his seatbelt.

For no reason, he thought that it would be better if it wasn't a cheongsam sitting there, but her.

Qin Yuzheng started the car and drove away.

Saturday.

The 2nd Qipao Culture Exhibition, held at the International Convention and Exhibition Center.

At 9:30 a.m., the exhibition hall was already packed with people.

The huge white space was divided into several exhibition areas, and the lights were adjusted to warm tones, shining on various fabrics. The silk had a pearly sheen, the cotton and linen had a distinctly matte finish, and the Xiangyun yarn had a heavy, old-fashioned feel.

A faint sandalwood scent wafted in the air; I wondered which booth had lit it.

The background music was an old Shanghai jazz piece, with the trumpet's languid yet refined sound echoing under the high dome of the exhibition hall.

Qin Yuzheng hadn't originally planned to come, but given his special connection with cheongsams, there might be some unexpected surprises.

Qin Yuzheng delivered the opening speech and announced the start of the event before quietly leaving alone.

He wore a navy blue light jacket over a white shirt, the collar unbuttoned, making him look several years younger and more casual than usual.

He walked in the crowd without being particularly conspicuous, but the aura that emanated from his very being was impossible to hide. People around him, unaware of his identity, would subconsciously make way for him.

Qin Yuzheng did not rush to find Mufei Studio's booth.

He entered the main exhibition hall first, and slowly walked along with the flow of people to look at the old cheongsams on display.

From the wide sleeves and loose fit of the late Qing Dynasty to the fitted waist of the Republic of China, from the Shanghai style of the 1930s to the Chongqing style of the 1940s, looking through them is like turning the pages of a three-dimensional history book.

He paused for a moment in front of a moon-white, Republic-era cheongsam with wide sleeves, looking at the row of hand-stitched grape buttons on the collar, and suddenly remembered what Yang Zhiyan had said yesterday: the most exquisite embellishment of a cheongsam.

Qin Yuzheng walked a little further and passed a booth where two middle-aged women were discussing the stitching techniques of an embroidered cheongsam, using words he couldn't understand at all, such as "flat stitch," "strip stitch," and "snap stitch."

He stopped and listened for a few seconds.

Can't understand.

But he remembered how Yang Zhiyan's eyes would light up when she talked about these things.

Qin Yuzheng wandered around the exhibition hall for nearly twenty minutes before finally reaching the exhibition area of ​​Mufei Studio.

The exhibition area wasn't large, and its location wasn't particularly central, but it was arranged with great care.

The background is a light gray wall with the four characters "Mufei Qipao" written in calligraphy. Next to it hangs a row of old photos, showing women in qipaos walking in the rain with oil-paper umbrellas on the streets during the Republic of China era.

A tailor shop in the 1950s, where the master tailor, wearing reading glasses, is stitching under the lamp;

Another photo is of Teacher Mu when she was young, wearing a cheongsam she made herself, standing at the entrance of her studio, her eyes crinkling with laughter.

In the center of the exhibition area stood three mannequins, each draped in a cheongsam. The one on the left was made of moon-white silk, with a cluster of orchids embroidered on the hem, the stitches so fine they looked painted on.

The one in the middle is a dark green brocade with a narrow black trim around the neckline, giving it a dignified and sophisticated look.

The one on the right is made of lotus-root-colored fragrant gauze, without any embroidery, only a few fine pleats at the neckline, as simple as a five-character quatrain.

Next to the three cheongsams stood a signboard with the designer's name on it.

Yang Zhiyan.

Just as Qin Yuzheng's gaze settled on those three words, a voice came from behind him.

"You've arrived?"

It wasn't said to him. It was said to a visitor who had just walked by.

He turned around.

Yang Zhiyan stood on the other side of the exhibition area, facing two audience members, a man and a woman, who looked like a couple.

Today she wore a modified cheongsam in a dusty rose green color. The skirt hem reached her calves, the waist was slightly cinched, and the neckline was a small stand-up collar, not high, just enough to support her chin.

The fabric is matte cotton and linen, understated yet pleasing to the eye. The more you look at it, the more you feel that the color matches her skin tone perfectly.

She didn't use a hairpin today; instead, she wore a loose braid that hung down her shoulder, with the end of the braid tied with a dark green hair ribbon that swayed gently with her movements.

Qin Yuzheng stood a few steps away, not approaching.

He leaned against a pillar, his hands in his jacket pockets, watching her from a distance.

"This one is embroidered with white magnolias," Yang Zhiyan said, turning slightly to the side and lightly touching the collar of the dark green cheongsam in the middle with her finger.

"The white magnolia is our city flower. We chose this image because it symbolizes 'pure whiteness like jade,' and also because it blooms early and doesn't compete with other flowers for spring, giving it a cool and aloof feel."

Yang Zhiyan enunciated clearly and spoke at a moderate pace, like a mountain stream, neither hurried nor impatient.

When she speaks, her hands move naturally, her fingertips touching her cheongsam or drawing a small arc in the air.

The movements were graceful and vivid.

Standing beside her own creations, Yang Zhiyan spoke of the design concepts, fabric selections, and embroidery techniques of these cheongsams with composure and confidence, radiating a captivating aura.

"The white magnolia has nine petals, but you can't embroider all nine petals because the silk fabric is thin and delicate, and too many embroidery threads will stretch and deform the fabric."

Yang Zhiyan tilted her head slightly and made a "seven" gesture with her hand. "So in the end, we decided to embroider seven petals, using the technique of layering embroidery. Each petal is made with three different shades of white thread, gradually transitioning from the center of the flower to the tip of the petal. This creates a sense of layering without adding too much burden to the fabric."

The female audience member was so engrossed in listening that she couldn't resist reaching out to touch it, but she pulled her hand back halfway, probably afraid of breaking it.

Yang Zhiyan smiled and said, "It's alright. You can touch the fabric. The feel of silk is a very important experience."

The female audience member tentatively touched the hem of the cheongsam with her fingertip, then let out a soft exclamation: "So smooth."

"That's the advantage of silk," Yang Zhiyan said.

"It's skin-friendly and breathable, so it won't feel stuffy in the summer. And look at this sheen, it's not bright, it's a very subtle sheen, like moonlight shining on the surface of water. This is the unique pearly luster of real silk, which synthetic fibers can't imitate."