Ran Yan replied:
【Contact card push】
【What made you suddenly think of Shuishui’s Older Female Cousin?】
Yeah, what had made her suddenly think of Chi Buyu’s Older Female Cousin? Why had she subconsciously decided to ask Older Female Cousin about Chi Buyu’s summer collection?
She’d made a point of avoiding Sandy filming with the DV at the bar earlier. So why was she now seriously considering that absurd idea Chi Buyu had proposed?
Modeling clothes for someone? That could never happen to her.
But if she was just considering it, she could always back out later. She hadn’t told Chi Buyu she was thinking about it. She could just ask You Ying casually about the details, see why Chi Buyu had suddenly brought it up.
As long as she hadn’t said anything out loud, she could change her mind anytime.
She didn’t want to give Chi Buyu any false hope. She was afraid that if she raised those hopes only to dash them in the end, she’d disappoint her.
That was the one thing she feared most happening to herself—and to others.
So she hoped she could spare Chi Buyu that kind of hurt.
Her phone buzzed repeatedly.
Cui Qijin yanked her wandering thoughts back.
She was still staring at her chat with Chi Buyu. After the video call log came several new text messages:
【Mine, Mine Mine, Mai Mai, Cui Qijin, Cui Muhuo, Master Cui… Sigh, what should I call you?】
—Call me whatever.
【It’s still so surreal that you’re all the same person.】
—Sorry it took you this long to find out. I was pretty shocked at first too.
【Okay, well, I used to think you’d abandoned me, that you were this super mean person who’d left me disillusioned with love and with myself. But… but if you’re the Cui Qijin, Cui Muhuo, and Master Cui that I’ve known for so many years…】
—Then what? I don’t know either. Sorry. Will you forgive me?
【That suddenly reminds me of something else.】
—Something that’ll upset you? Or make you happy? I hope it’s the happy kind.
【At least for me, it turns out you’ve always been…】
The string of rapid-fire messages cut off there. Cui Qijin stared at the ellipsis, gripping her phone tighter, until a new one pinged in—
【For real.】
–
【This summer collection is the first series Shuishui’s overseen from start to finish all on her own—from tweaking the sketches over and over, to finalizing patterns and redoing them, model fittings, and placing bulk orders with the factory. She didn’t slack off on a single step like she used to.】
【We could all tell how much she cared about this one. She caught a cold and ran a fever for days but wouldn’t take sick leave. She’s really made up her mind about it.】
【No idea why she suddenly decided to take the reins on the brand herself, but it’s not a bad thing either way.】
【I hear you’re close with our Shuishui, so as her big sis, I’m counting on you to look after her a bit~】
These were the messages You Ying had sent after adding Cui Qijin on WeChat, followed by a batch of new collection photos—black, white, blue, denim, four outfits per color, each set in a different style: black slanted lapel with mandarin collar and knotted buttons; white with a cute little stand collar and cutouts; blue mid-waist with a round neckline; denim petite stand collar on a slant-front jacket…
Cui Qijin wasn’t versed in fashion terms. She examined each one carefully before replying to You Ying:
【They all look beautiful.】
Right after, You Ying sent more photos—of Chi Buyu hard at work.
Chi Buyu in a corner of the studio, flipping through papers with a slice of bread dangling from her mouth. No time to style her hair, so she wore a baseball cap, but her natural curls poked out rebelliously anyway.
Chi Buyu curled up in her chair, hugging her knees, frowning at something on the computer. The next shot had her in the same pose, but her eyelids drooping shut.
Then a live photo: the studio abuzz, Chi Buyu sprawled backward in her computer chair amid piles of fabric, limbs splayed, head lolling off the headrest. Her dark circles were so heavy they looked like some hungry water ghost’s. She’d been messing up her hair, and caught mid-rumple, she naturally faced the camera, tugged at her cheek, and pulled a silly face.
Cui Qijin burst out laughing.
Then she accidentally sent:
【They all look beautiful.】
You Ying probably thought it was a repeat and replied:
【Of course they’re beautiful.】
Of course they were.
Cui Qijin had known Chi Buyu was taking this seriously. But seeing these messages made it clear: this time, her seriousness was on a whole new level.
Was it because of those whispers she’d overheard before the Hong Kong trip? Or because Chi Buyu was finally growing up a little late, determined to see something through on her own?
As a kid, Cui Qijin had thought turning eighteen flipped a switch and made everyone adults overnight, like some program activating.
But now, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe people grew up through one particular thing.
For her, it had been that long-ago summer when she couldn’t eat the mango, and her grandma in Dujiangyan never came back.
For Chi Buyu, this eager venture might qualify.
So she hoped—
Chi Buyu wouldn’t have to feel any pain in the process, forced into “growing up.”
One day after work, she’d passed a bay laurel tree on Love Adrift Street in bloom. A few little girls were picking up petals blown loose by the wind.
As she walked by, she overheard them say bay laurel leaves could grant wishes.
In Greek myth, the laurel goddess was struck by Cupid’s blunt arrow and came to loathe love above all else. Faced with Apollo’s pursuit, she’d rather turn into a tree than submit. But later, Apollo embraced that unresponsive tree year-round to express his affection. In the end, she was moved. They loved, and so the laurel stayed evergreen.
Even in love myths, she thought, even turning into a tree meant loving—and being loved.
Cui Qijin shook her head, dismissing it as nonsense, the kind of thing only kids believed.
But she didn’t leave.
She waited until the girls had gathered every fallen leaf, the sunset gilding her slightly hunched back. She lingered a while longer, until the wind shook loose another bay laurel leaf.
She picked it up.
Chi Buyu’s studio was empty. She must have gone to the factory again to check bulk production details.
Cui Qijin went downstairs to the record shop, casually picked out a vinyl, slipped the leaf beneath it, and left both on the windowsill in Chi Buyu’s studio.
From that day on.
Every day, she’d go to that bay laurel tree, pick a leaf, and leave it on the windowsill—sometimes with a weirdly shaped pebble she’d found underneath, sometimes a fresh mango, a box of pretty pineapples… everything ended up there.
Only kids believed in that stuff.
How childish. How was she this childish?
But she hoped Chi Buyu would have smooth sailing. And when it was done, she’d brag obnoxiously: See, Cui Muhuo? Told you to model for me and you wouldn’t. Regret it now!!
She still hadn’t gone, because while she’d been mulling it over, the shooting schedule had passed her by.
She never heard those words.
The first thing that came through was a screenshot from Chen Wenran in the group chat, full of complaints.
In summary, some model had gone after a former colleague from the same company in a public Weibo space, and the two of them ended up having a full-on public spat via live stream. Neither had been all that famous before, but the drama dragged out their complicated past relationship—along with hints of shady company contracts and some legal entanglements tied to their love-hate saga. It blew up into a Douyin hotspot, spawning all sorts of mocking memes. Cui Qijin recognized the model; she was one of the faces in the photos already released from Chi Buyu’s new product shoot.
Right after that came about a dozen more screenshots. These were from nosy bystanders flooding the brand’s official Weibo, Taobao private messages, and other gossip accounts with their rants:
“Heard your model’s a criminal type?” “Not spending on criminals—pack it up and get ready to shut down.” “How do you even pick models? This brand’s looking trash.” “Don’t you vet your models? My god, this kind of person?” “I want a refund, refund, refund!” “Even if you swap models, I’m not buying. Who’d want to wear something touched by her? You’d get dragged just walking out the door…”
After the screenshots, Chen Wenran chimed in, clearly worried:
【Water army hired again, huh?】
【This is so random and insane. Bad people doing bad things—what does it have to do with our innocent pretty clothes?】
【That model’s gotta pay breach-of-contract fees, right?】
Ran Yan hadn’t been involved in the new product shoot this time, and her replies showed she was frazzled:
【The model’s penalty won’t even cover the losses.】
【The factories are already producing the bulk orders. Can’t just scrap everything and start over because of one model—not after all the work from the beginning of the year. All that effort down the drain?】
【Can only pray it doesn’t blow up bigger. /prayer hands】
Chen Wenran added:
【I’m done. Shuishui’er put so much into this. Last time we met, her dark circles were killer—even I felt bad for her. That little face was pale as a ghost. I wanna march over there and dig the earwax out of those two idiots myself.】
It took Ran Yan more than ten minutes to reply:
【Where’s Shuishui? @Chi Shuishui】
They were all so worried about Chi Shuishui.
Chi Shuishui had thrown herself into this so hard. She’d never handled brand stuff on her own before. She was the little princess raised under her family’s wings, never exposed to business wars or backstabbing since graduating. Chi Shuishui…
She’d revised her drafts over and over, finalized them, then spent her days nibbling bread while sitting through endless boring meetings, yawning nonstop as she haggled details with the factories. Even when the factory reps hinted at under-the-table deals, she’d tried her best to smooth things over…
Her feet ached every day from the high heels, patched up with layers of colorful Band-Aids at the backs, but her tender skin still got rubbed raw and red. She skipped time to make herself pretty, gritted her teeth through looking disheveled, powered through illnesses without complaint. On that phone call before, she’d been thrilled and proud, gushing to Cui Qijin about her big new product launch—like she was full of fire, ready to charge ahead. Back then, Chi Shuishui’s eyes had sparkled.
When she’d received the bay leaves Cui Qijin sent her, she’d been so happy, promising not to let her down…
How could Cui Qijin ever be disappointed in her? Chi Shuishui could do anything—cry, give up, whatever.
But Cui Qijin was bitterly disappointed in herself. Why hadn’t she accepted Chi Shuishui’s invitation back then? If she’d been less hesitant, less wishy-washy…
If she’d pushed herself to accept being photographed, then worked ten times harder on the model shots—eating bland food for days if needed, doing whatever it took to make Chi Shuishui and everyone else happy with the results—would this heartbreaking situation even have happened?
But now Chi Shuishui was nowhere to be seen. Where was she? Not with Ran Yan?
Cui Qijin tossed aside the unreliable bay leaves in her hand and bolted out the door without looking back.
