It wasn't an apple that hit Newton.

After chatting for a while, Phillips fell silent, seemingly preparing to get up and go to the windowsill to take a look.

But perhaps because she had been in the same position for too long, she had only stood up halfway when she swayed back down onto the stool, her face contorted in pain as she cried out, "It hurts... my legs are numb, I can't stand up."

"Just massage it yourself and rest for a while, and it will recover."

This time, Li Cheng replied casually.

"Ah."

Phillips agreed, bent down, and gently rubbed his well-shaped thighs and calves through his skirt to relieve the soreness caused by sitting in the same position for a long time.

"what?"

But just as Phillips was diligently rubbing his thighs, he seemed to notice something, stopped rubbing, and stared wide-eyed at the skirt, scrutinizing it closely: "This is...?"

It turned out that several conspicuous white spots had appeared on her black dress at some point.

That was white paint, the most essential component in paint mixing, and since it cannot be mixed with other colors, white paint is the most important and widely used paint. For a painter, taking away white paint is tantamount to murdering their parents...

Ahem, I digress. Anyway, it was probably because Phillips was sitting too close that Li Cheng accidentally spilled some paint on her skirt while he was painting.

Although it's perfectly normal to get paint on your clothes while painting, and anyone whose clothes have never been covered in paint has never painted, Phillips clearly lacked this understanding, and she made a big fuss and started cleaning them up.

But after discovering that the paint had dried completely and all efforts were in vain, Phillips puffed out his cheeks and muttered a complaint:

"I can't get it off... It's been stained by the designer's filth... It's the first time I've ever worn this dress."

???

Damn it, speak clearly! Paint is paint, don't go around calling it "the designer's dirty stuff"!

Li Cheng, who was replenishing his water, almost spat it out, and then angrily rebuked Phillips for his way of speaking.

"Huh, isn't paint supposed to be dirt?"

In response to Li Cheng's questioning, Phillips blinked her clear, innocent eyes and retorted as if she were a naive and innocent young girl—yeah right! She was neither innocent nor a young girl at all!

Faced with the deliberately feigning idiocy of the cross-dresser, Li Cheng, who was already speechless, turned to look at the wall clock in the corner and realized that it was almost noon.

The landlady should have brought lunch by now, but nothing happened today. Feeling a bit strange, he decided to knock on the door next door and ask. He headed towards the door.

But as soon as Li Cheng opened the door, he saw the landlady he was looking for standing at his door, holding a lunchbox in her hand, seemingly about to deliver lunch—the only problem was that she looked a little nervous.

"Mrs. Hudson, what are you doing at my doorstep?"

Li Cheng asked suspiciously.

“It’s nothing, Mr. Orenki.”

After the initial tension subsided, Mrs. Hudson regained her composure and smiled as she showed the lunchbox in her hand, saying, "I'm here to deliver today's lunch. I was just about to knock when you opened the door."

"That's quite a coincidence."

Li Cheng still somewhat doubtful as he accepted the lunchbox: "Thank you, I've received my lunch."

"You're welcome, you've already paid."

Mrs. Hudson glanced at the living room as she spoke, but from this angle she couldn't see the cross-dresser in the studio, who was making a pained expression while fixing his skirt. She could only regretfully look away, then added, "If you need lunch for two people in the future, you can let me know in advance... It's free for the occasional times, but if you need two portions regularly, the price will be calculated separately..."

?

No, you think I'm going to provide lunch for this cross-dresser?

Li Cheng's lips twitched: "Miss Phillips is just a client, she won't come often, and besides, I don't provide lunch here."

"Just clients... hehehe, there should be more than that now, right?"

Mrs. Hudson covered her mouth and chuckled: "As expected of Mr. Orenki, you are quite adept at this. You can be so intimate with a client you've only met a few times."

Although it seemed like a compliment, Li Cheng felt exhausted and had an urge to destroy the world: "Really, Mrs. Hudson, don't make wild guesses. Miss Phillips is really just one of my clients."

"Hehe, is that so?"

Hudson was somewhat dismissive: "But I think I just heard something at the door... two hours... I can barely stand... the designer got something dirty on my dress or something."

Li Cheng: ? ? ?

Holy crap, so all that was going on! You were just eavesdropping outside the door. If you're going to deliver food, just do it properly and don't do anything unnecessary! You stingy and gossipy old hag, I even kindly offered you advice before, I curse you to never be noticed by that middle-aged rich guy across the street!

Mrs. Hudson smiled smugly, then lowered her voice and said, "Mr. Orenki, I actually think you should be more considerate of women, especially young girls... Two hours is a bit too long."

Screw your pity! Who wants to pity a cross-dresser?! And what's with you, an old woman who's still unmarried, pretending to be all experienced?!

Chapter 281 A cross-dresser isn't a mother, and a red panda isn't a cat.

Phillips seemed to have plans for the afternoon, and since Li Cheng wasn't in charge of providing meals, he said goodbye and left.

In the following days, Li Cheng worked diligently, drawing up design sketches of suitable clothing. Phillips would occasionally drop by for a morning, but Li Cheng gradually grew accustomed to this, and his discomfort lessened somewhat.

As for the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, she's been diligently trying to woo the new middle-aged tycoon across the street, following Li Cheng's methods. I wonder how it's going; I might gossip about it sometime.

As for Hu Ke, who inexplicably partnered with Li Cheng, she was also working diligently. She not only supervised the production of the finished clothes, but also found her friends in Paris and persuaded them to wear clothes designed by Li Cheng to the banquet.

.......

someday.

In Hook's gloomy villa.

"I've convinced everyone I can, and they've all agreed to try wearing one of your designs to a dinner party."

Hook leaned back on the sofa, arms crossed over her chest. Her two long, slender, white legs, hidden beneath her black dress, were crossed in front of her, with the left leg on the bottom and the right leg on top. Her right foot, still wearing a thin black sock, dangled in mid-air, swaying occasionally with her breath.

She spoke in a very casual yet assertive manner, saying, "So, Mr. Orange, can we get an advance on the agreed-upon payment?"

"Well done."

Ignoring the strange form of address, Li Cheng nodded slightly and said, "The specific data of the experiment was left in England, but don't worry, I will rewrite the experimental results, specific phenomena, and my personal speculations about the phenomena from my memory and give them to you later."

Hook had no objection and changed the subject: “I’ve seen your designs, and they are indeed exquisite enough to make you famous in the Parisian fashion world—but that’s precisely why there’s something I really can’t understand.”

Li Cheng asked, "What can't you figure out?"

"I just don't understand what you're planning?"

Hook slightly raised his chin, his gray eyes meeting Li Cheng's black eyes across the sofa: "If it's what Roy said, it's to expand the business. Even if this tailor shop becomes famous, it's only your achievement. The others are just low-level tailors who sew clothes according to your designs. They won't be able to survive as long as you leave."

"So how do you plan to maintain your business? Are you planning to stay in France and become a fashion designer?"

"I don't really believe that's all you're after; that would be too cheap for you—so what exactly is your purpose?"

"..."

After listening quietly to Hook's questions, Li Cheng sighed and said with a touch of melancholy, "You're right, but Miss Hook, do you know that in many, many, many times, individual efforts are utterly insignificant in the face of the choices made by the times?"

"Hehe, I didn't realize you believed in fatalism."

Hook smirked, clearly unimpressed.

"No, I don't believe in fatalism. I'm just stating an objective fact."

Li Cheng shrugged: "I haven't finished speaking yet, don't interrupt me—although individual efforts are insignificant compared to the times, that doesn't mean we should give up the chance to struggle, especially when you have the opportunity to try."

"so?"

"So I came to Paris."

Li Cheng clenched his fist and waved it in the air: "Try to struggle, even if the probability is not high, at least I tried."

In fact, Li Cheng had not placed much hope on this trip to Paris from beginning to end. After all, reality is full of variables, and it is difficult for some ideas in one's mind to become reality. But that did not stop him from coming to Paris.

Anyway, we should at least give it a try, right?

"You seem to have said something, but to my ears, you didn't say anything at all."

Hook rolled his eyes, dissatisfied with this kind of riddle-solving behavior: "I can play riddles with you, but if you don't give me any hints, I'll take it as you not wanting to tell me at all and just trying to fool me."

"Alright, I won't mind giving you a little bit of information."

Li Cheng shrugged: "Simply put, I did this to please them."

"Whose preferences are you catering to?" Hook pressed.

"Guess," Li Cheng said, spreading his hands. "I've already given you a hint; now it's your turn to solve the riddle."

Hook then fell into thought.

To cater to someone's tastes, the other party must genuinely like them as well. And if we're talking about the most famous person in France who loved fashion and was willing to go to such lengths, it would undoubtedly be the fashion-obsessed King Louis XIV.

Louis XIV.

Hook first seemed to understand, then looked puzzled: "You want to see Louis XIV through this means? Why?"

There are many ways to meet Louis XIV, so why choose this one? Is there any difference between it and the other methods?

“After that, it’s classified,” Li Cheng said with a smile. “Don’t ask, Miss Hook. Curiosity killed the cat.”

"Curiosity killed the cat? Why would curiosity kill the cat?" Hook seemed to be still in a state of puzzlement, asking repeatedly, "I only know that Shakespeare mentioned that worry kills the cat, but what does curiosity have to do with cats?"

...So you didn't listen at all?

Li Cheng rolled his eyes: "The way you ask questions now is just like a cat, Miss Hook."

If we were to use cats to describe women, then Hook would be the serval. Not only is she tall and slender, but according to her, she prefers to be active at night and is more energetic than during the day.

Extending this line of thought, Newton was a rusty-spotted cat (a very small wild cat), Lavoisier was Garfield (silver; Garfield's original prototype was silver, don't let the movies sway you), Veronica was a Persian cat (the princess was still quite elegant), Susie was a British Shorthair (commonly known as the British domestic cat), and Anne was a Siamese cat (the dog of cats, especially mischievous)...

What, you're asking about Phillips?

She is a red panda—a cross-dresser is not a mother, and a red panda is not a cat.

But speaking of which, the Pallas's cat seems more like a cat? However, the red panda's name includes the word "cat," so it sounds better when read together...

After venting his frustrations, Li Cheng got up, said goodbye, and left.

Goodbye, I'll visit again when I have time.

"stop."

Hook called out to him coldly, but not out of curiosity, but for something else: "Mr. Orange, you haven't told me Miss Phillips' contact information yet."

"Oh right, I'm sorry."

Li Cheng slapped his aching head... He had almost forgotten about this ridiculous thing about a female keto chasing a crossdresser. It was probably too damning, causing his brain to subconsciously choose to forget it. After all, it really was damning.

Hook smirked and said, "I thought you were going to make me play a guessing game again."

No, not at all.