Some time later, Chen Yu and Mo Fei finally emerged.
Both looked entirely too refreshed for people who had spent the night drinking themselves unconscious on a living-room floor.
Their faces were clean, their clothes had been changed, and between the two of them they radiated enough beauty to make the apartment seem unreasonably unfair to ordinary people.
Louis, who had been waiting, looked up at them and had to resist the urge to sigh again. Of course. Even after chaos, they still came out looking dazzling.
"Did Sima Li leave?" Chen Yu asked immediately, glancing around when he didn't see him.
"Yes," Louis replied. "He had things to do."
Mo Fei, meanwhile, had already drifted toward the nearest reflective surface and was trying to fix his hair with great seriousness, the morning's most pressing issue was not his schedule, but he needed to check whether his fringe was spiritually aligned.
Then, remembering something important, he turned.
"Louis," he said, "can we do something about this red?"
Chen Yu blinked. "Why?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "I thought you loved it."
Louis tilted his head and looked at Mo Fei's hair. "You don't want it anymore?" He shrugged. "If you want to cut it all off into some bald monk style, that's fine with me. But I doubt your fans will love it."
Mo Fei looked at him in horror. "I was not talking about cutting off my hair," he nearly shrieked.
The image of himself bald flashed across his mind, a tragic vision of smooth scalp, lost beauty, and spiritual suffering. He shivered on the spot.
Absolutely not. Never.
"I just want to dye it back to black!" he said quickly, rescuing his own dignity from the edge of a cliff.
"Ohhhh," Chen Yu and Louis said at the exact same time.
They looked at each other. Then back at Mo Fei.
"Make sense," Chen Yu said
"Fine," Louis said at once. "We'll do that. Let's go." He was already heading for the door before the sentence finished.
Chen Yu immediately latched onto Mo Fei's arm. "I'm coming too. I don't have anything today."
And just like that, the three of them left the apartment together.
Louis drove.
Chen Yu talked. Mo Fei sat in the back, occasionally checking his reflection in the window and mourning the continued existence of the red hair.
They were on their way to a field set where a shoot was scheduled to take place later that day.
And as the car moved through the city, Louis' thoughts shifted briefly to work.
Things had changed quickly over the past few days.
The controversy around Mo Fei had not disappeared, not completely, but it was beginning to loosen. The internet still talked, of course. It always would. But the sharpest edge of the scandal had started to dull.
And the reason was simple.
Xi Beauty.
Once the brand posted Mo Fei's campaign shots using their newest makeup line, the response had been impossible to ignore. The photos created buzz and the industry, being the opportunistic beast that it was, began asking itself one very practical question:
If Xi Beauty could ignore the rumors and use Mo Fei, then why couldn't they?
Maybe the scandal had been exaggerated.
Maybe the rumors were false.
Maybe the public was ready to move on.
Whatever the reason, more brands had started reaching out quietly to the company, asking about Mo Fei's availability.
Louis had moved fast.
Because while other people were still hesitating, Chen Guoliang had already started trying to sabotage things.
He had gone so far as to tell brands that Mo Fei wasn't available at all.
Unfortunately for him, Louis had anticipated that level of pettiness.
He had snatched up the contracts before Chen Guoliang could bury them, locking them down with the speed of a starving man grabbing the last plate at dinner.
Naturally, Chen Guoliang had been furious.
Louis, however, felt no sympathy.
Let him rage.
A famous designer had personally requested Mo Fei to close his fashion show.
Before campaigns or runway shows, models had to attend fittings so designers could adjust the clothes to their exact measurements. That was where they were headed.
When they arrived, Louis parked the car and stepped out first. Mo Fei and Chen Yu followed behind him, trailing after him toward the large show building.
The moment they entered, the cool air inside brushed against them, carrying the mixed scent of perfume, fabric, hairspray, and expensive stress.
Louis went straight to the attendant at the front desk and spoke to her briefly. She smiled politely and pointed down one of the hallways. Louis thanked her, then turned and walked in that direction with Mo Fei and Chen Yu behind him.
When they entered the fitting room, it was already packed.
Models stood in different corners, some half-dressed, some being pinned into jackets, some turning in front of mirrors while designers circled them with measuring tapes and focused expressions. Assistants rushed around with garment bags, shoes, clipboards, and the kind of panic only fashion people could make look elegant.
Mo Fei leaned closer to Louis and whispered, "Are we late?"
"Not quite," Louis replied.
Then his eyes caught a man across the room waving enthusiastically at them. "Let's go."
They walked toward him, and the man immediately pulled Louis into a dramatic hug.
"Louis, darling! Oh, it's been forever!"
Mo Fei blinked.
The man was dressed in an outfit that looked like it had fought three seasons and won. Huge baggy jeans, a bourgeois-looking thick fur coat, oversized rings, and dark glasses pushed up on his head.
Mo Fei slowly looked around the room.
Is it snowing in here? No.
The room temperature was perfectly normal.
So how is this man surviving inside that fur coat? Was fashion now stronger than human biology?
The man finally released Louis and turned his bright smile toward Mo Fei.
"And this must be Mo Fei!" he exclaimed. "I've heard so much about you!"
Before Mo Fei could react, the man pulled him into a hug too.
Mo Fei stiffened for a second, then politely endured it.
The man let him go and turned immediately to Chen Yu, hugging him as well with the same frightening amount of enthusiasm.
After releasing Chen Yu, he paused.
Then he narrowed his eyes.
"I don't think I know you," he said, studying Chen Yu's face. Then he turned to Louis. "But he looks familiar."
Louis smiled. "This is Chen Yu. He's a friend."
"Chen Yu… Chen Yu…" The man clicked his tongue and placed a hand on his head as though searching through a very dramatic archive in his mind.
Chen Yu and Mo Fei looked at each other.
Then they looked back at him.
Suddenly, the man gasped. "Ah!" He pointed at Chen Yu. "Chef Yu?"
He squealed so loudly that Mo Fei almost raised a hand to cover his ear.
But the moment he began to move, he caught Louis' warning glare from the side.
Mo Fei quietly lowered his hand.
"Yes," Chen Yu said with a polite smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr…?" Because really, who was this again? He did not remember Louis mentioning anyone like this.
The man took Chen Yu's hand between both of his. "I'm Zhen," he said excitedly. "I own this fashion house."
Mo Fei's eyes widened.
Zhen? As in Zhen Fashion House?
Mo Fei slowly turned to Louis, his expression speaking before his mouth could.
Why didn't you tell me one of the world's biggest fashion houses wanted me to walk their show?
Louis looked back at him with a calm shrug of his eyes.
If you had read your emails, you would have known. But no. You just had to party.
Mo Fei gave up immediately.
There were some battles a guilty man simply could not win.
Before he could recover, Zhen had already moved closer to him, eyes shining like Mo Fei was a rare fabric sample he had been waiting years to touch.
"Come, come," Zhen said, grabbing his hand. "I need you to try out…"
He paused dramatically. Then laughed.
"Everything!"
And with that, he dragged Mo Fei deeper into the chaos of silk, pins, mirrors, and designer madness.