His physiological preference

Qin Yuzheng leaned against a pillar, a smile playing on his lips. If his subordinates saw him, they would be utterly astonished. How could the secretary have such a flirtatious smile? It was a little creepy.

In meetings, at dinners, on all sorts of occasions, most people speak for others, purposefully and strategically, like baited hooks waiting for fish to bite.

But Yang Zhiyan was different. When she spoke, it was as if she forgot there were people around her, as if she were only talking to her cheongsam, to the magnolia, and to the moonlight.

She truly loves cheongsams; her eyes gleam with passion.

Yang Zhiyan then led the couple to the right side in front of the lotus-root-colored fragrant cloud gauze dress.

"This one doesn't have embroidery," she said, glancing at the cheongsam with the look of someone who makes handicrafts looking at their own work, like looking at their child, both satisfied and critical.

"It's not that we don't want to embroider, it's just that the fabric itself is already good enough. Xiangyun yarn is dyed with yam juice, which forms a natural coating on the surface of the fabric, giving it a very unique texture. If we add embroidery, it would be superfluous. Cheongsam design is about 'moderation'; too much and it becomes cloying, and cloying makes it vulgar."

Qin Yuzheng thought, "Too much is too much, and too much is vulgar."

He recalled the calligraphy and paintings hanging in his grandmother's study. The old gentleman had once told him something similar: "Know the white and guard the black" and "Take the white as black," which also referred to the proper measure of leaving blank space.

I never expected to hear the same thing from a young girl at a qipao exhibition today.

"Look at the pleats on this neckline," Yang Zhiyan leaned forward slightly, pointing with her fingertips to the fine pleats on the neckline.

But Qin Yuzheng could only see her profile, her fingers, her slightly moving lips as she spoke, and the braid hanging down her shoulder with the dark green ribbon at the end.

Dark green.

It was the same color as the cheongsam she made for his grandmother.

Qin Yuzheng lowered his eyes. The exhibition hall floor was made of light gray marble, polished to a shine, and could vaguely reflect human shadows. He saw his own shadow on the ground, all alone.

Qin Yuzheng thought that if she were chattering away in his ear about everyday matters, it would probably sound quite pleasant.

He looked up and glanced at her again.

She was saying goodbye to the couple, giving a slight bow with a faint, perfectly timed smile. Then she turned around, her gaze sweeping across the exhibition hall.

Their eyes met.

Yang Zhiyan paused noticeably. She thought to herself that she and this big shot were quite destined to meet; they had met three times in just a few days.

Yang Zhiyan stood there, still holding a booth brochure in her hand, her fingertips unconsciously stroking the edges of the brochure.

Qin Yuzheng straightened up from beside the pillar and walked towards her.

He walked from the pillar to her, taking about a dozen steps.

During those dozen or so steps, the exhibition hall lights fell from above, illuminating his shoulders and then sliding past them.

The people coming and going around her seemed blurred, only she was clear, standing in front of that light gray exhibition wall, with her cheongsam, her name, and her world behind her.

He walked up to her and stopped. The perfect social distance allowed him to see the subtle expressions on her face without being offensive.

"Mr. Qin...?" Yang Zhiyan looked at him, her long eyelashes fluttering rapidly like butterfly wings. "You're here to see the exhibition too?"

Qin Yuzheng looked at Yang Zhiyan.

Her braid hung down her shoulder, and the end of her hair ribbon fluttered slightly in the breeze from the exhibition hall's air conditioning.

Her cheongsam had a low neckline, revealing a small section of her collarbone, below which was a shallow indentation, an exquisite embellishment.

His fingers, hanging by his side, twitched slightly, the pads brushing against the seam of his trousers as he suppressed an urge to raise his hand.

"My grandmother is interested in cheongsams, so we came to take a look," Qin Yuzheng said.

Yang Zhiyan nodded, her voice soft and gentle: "Mmm."

"Mr. Qin, would you like to take a look at our exhibits?" Yang Zhiyan spoke first, stepping aside to reveal the three cheongsams behind her, and extending her arm in a "please" gesture.

Qin Yuzheng took a step forward, reducing the distance from one meter to half a meter.

He could smell the faint fragrance emanating from her.

"This dark green one," Yang Zhiyan pointed to the one in the middle, "is the one I made for your grandma. It's the same fabric."

"It looks good," Qin Yuzheng said, whether he was referring to the person or the clothes, only he knew.

Everything you make looks good.

Yang Zhiyan pinched the corner of the brochure with her fingers.

Yang Zhiyan lowered her head, pretending to flip through the booklet, her ears burning.

"Miss Yang." Qin Yuzheng's voice came from above.

She raised her head and looked politely at Qin Yuzheng.

"Your understanding of the cheongsam is very profound," he said.

It seems that Qin Yuzheng is quite knowledgeable about cheongsam culture.

"My master taught me well." Yang Zhi spoke with pride and gratitude when mentioning her master.

Qin Yuzheng didn't reply. He just looked at her, as if waiting for her to say more.

The background music in the exhibition area has been changed from old Shanghai jazz to a pipa solo.

The sound of the pipa was crisp and melodious, each note leaping from the strings, bouncing and echoing under the high dome of the exhibition hall, before slowly dissipating.

"Mr. Qin," Yang Zhiyan suddenly spoke up, "you mentioned last time that you wanted to make a cheongsam for your mother. What color does she like?"

He hadn't actually thought about this issue yet. The excuse he made up when he added her on WeChat that day, saying he wanted to make a cheongsam for his mother's birthday, was just something he came up with on the spot.

My mother's birthday is still several months away.

"She..." His gaze swept over the row of cheongsams, finally settling on the moon-white one, "She prefers something simple and understated."

Yang Zhiyan nodded, took out her phone seriously, and typed a line in the notes: Qin's mother likes simple colors.

"Could you please provide your height, weight, shoulder width, waist circumference, chest circumference, and hip circumference?"

She looked up, her expression completely businesslike, just like when she was talking about Chinese knots—serious, professional, and devoid of any personal feelings.

Qin Yuzheng watched her type on her phone screen and thought she was so well-behaved and focused.

He was trying every means to get close to her, while she was here carefully taking measurements for his mother.

"I'll measure it and send it to you later," he said.

"Okay." Yang Zhiyan put her phone away, looked up again, and asked, "When do you plan to need it?"

"next month."

"It's not too late," she calculated. "The normal production cycle is twenty days to a month, and it can be done in fifteen days if you want to rush it, but a tight schedule will affect quality control, so I suggest..."

"No rush," Qin Yuzheng interrupted her. "Slow and steady wins the race. Just do it according to the normal schedule."

"Thank you for your trust, Mr. Qin," she said.

Qin Yuzheng looked at that smile and felt as if something had gently bumped into his heart.

The pipa music playing in the exhibition hall stopped sometime ago. The surrounding sounds subsided, as if someone was slowly turning the volume knob down.

He stood in front of her, half a meter away, and could see the curve of her eyelashes and the fine downy hairs on the tip of her nose shining in the light.

He wanted to say something.

You can talk about anything. Ask her if she wants to have lunch together, or if she has any plans for the cheongsam culture exhibition in the afternoon.

But these are not questions that can be asked about their relationship at this time.

too early.

It will scare her.

"I won't disturb your work any longer," Qin Yuzheng said. "I'll be going now."