Chapter Thirteen: The Invitation

On the day of Fashion Week, every socialite and lady of distinction carried an invitation card, personally designed and signed by Situ himself. The invitation, adorned with gilded floral patterns in shades of purple and gold and featuring a delicate silhouette of a woman, was the season’s coveted ticket. Though everyone inwardly derided Situ’s perpetually eccentric taste, none dared voice it aloud.

Yuan Yao’er, who had not been included in the list of invitees, bore enormous pressure but still managed to secure an invitation from a young gentleman in her circle. Yet the price for being his companion was to serve as his dance partner—a condition that left Yao’er thoroughly displeased, though she had no choice but to grit her teeth and agree.

"Yao’er, I’m honestly thrilled. You turned down so many others just to come to Fashion Week with me! Don’t worry, I promise I’ll treat you well," Jiang Yue said, fawning shamelessly, secretly delighted with his own good fortune. Thankfully, he’d managed to wrangle the invitation from his mother’s hands—otherwise, how could his goddess possibly have become his partner this evening?

Yuan Yao’er, however, was full of disdain, wishing to avoid further entanglement with him. After all, Jiang Yue was nothing more than the illegitimate son of a private business owner. What an embarrassment it would be to stand beside someone like him! If not for the fact that she needed his help to get in, she would never have bothered.

Her polite, well-mannered smile, in the eyes of a hopeless admirer, seemed soft and angelic. "Thank you for bringing me. I truly don’t know how to thank you—without you, I…" she demurred, her words simultaneously brushing him off and making it clear she owed him nothing. Yao’er despised such suitors—the type who, after offering the slightest favor, would dare to make demands of her.

Jiang Yue had rehearsed the line in his mind hundreds of times: "Would you be my girlfriend? I’ll take good care of you." But seeing his goddess’s delicate, pitiable demeanor, he suddenly felt ashamed at the very thought. He stifled the words, grinned brighter, and convinced himself she must be interested in him—why else would she choose him over so many others? Buoyed by this self-assurance, he drew himself up with confidence.

"It’s my honor to be of service, Yao’er. Any man would be happy to do so," he said, producing the invitation card. The hostess at the entrance took it, examined it briefly, and swiped it through a machine, which promptly displayed a line of information:

Madam Shang Xue…

The rest was private information, not to be disclosed. The hostess glanced up politely. "May I ask, what is your relationship to Madam Shang Xue?" There was a hint of interrogation in her tone, something that irked the proud Yao’er, though she dared not show it; her reputation for grace and composure was well-established. She could only swallow her annoyance, though this incident would soon stir quite a commotion.

Behind her, a few people whispered, as if someone had recognized her. "Isn’t that Yuan…? How did she get in here? I heard from my father that Situ didn’t think Xunfang’s brand was good enough for the show." Though the voice was quiet, everyone nearby was sharp-eared, and the news quickly spread. Yet Jiang Yue was unbothered.

"She’s my mother—is there a problem?" he replied. The staff, trained by Situ, would naturally defer to direct relations, and indeed, there was no issue.

"Then may I ask, what is the relationship between yourself and the lady beside you? Invitations are non-transferable and only direct relatives may bring guests," the hostess pressed.

The strict rule had been imposed by Jin Yuan at Situ’s behest, to prevent people from sneaking in—and also, knowing a certain woman’s pride, to ensure she would not be easily turned away. Stuck outside the entrance, Yao’er’s patience began to fray; her face flushed, especially as someone had recognized her dress—a pale yellow mermaid gown, so different from her usual style she’d hoped to avoid recognition. Yet, on her, the dress only accentuated her broad shoulders and large head. If not for those familiar with her, she might have gone unnoticed.

"Oh, what a coincidence. It wasn’t easy for me to make it to this side of the line, only to be held up by someone ahead. What kind of person dares cause a scene at Mr. Situ’s fashion show, especially one with such questionable taste?" The words, dripping with sarcasm, stung. Today, Yuan Xiangdie wore a mask, as the invitation included a masquerade. Madam Shang, being older, had long abandoned such youthful amusements and forgot to tell Jiang Yue about it.

Julie, herself invited, was brimming with excitement. Spotting a gentleman ahead, she used a little trick to swap places in line. The man, dressed in a deep red suit, queued patiently but exuded an unmistakable air of distinction—he’d even agreed to switch places with her, for which she was grateful.

Yuan Xiangdie had tried to stop her, but to no avail. Now, hearing the pointed remarks, she covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, subtly altering her voice so Yao’er would not recognize her.

"Miss, what is your relationship to Madam Shang?" the hostess asked again.

Yao’er could bear it no longer—some people simply didn’t know their place.

"My relationship with Madam Li is very close—our brand is a devoted client of hers, and I was hoping to become her goddaughter," Yao’er replied. It was a plausible route, though Mr. Zhang, standing nearby, was clearly displeased. What did she mean, goddaughter? Wasn’t his goddess here because she was drawn to him?

Yao’er’s gaze grew colder. Everyone present was shrewd; since she’d said as much, entry was possible, though the hostess noticed the young master’s sour mood—and cared not a whit. Situ had specifically excluded Xunfang from the guest list because, as far as he was concerned, their executive, Yuan Yao’er, lacked the taste to be worthy.

"I’m sorry, miss, but before you may enter, we must verify your true identity and relationship to Madam Li," the hostess insisted.

Never in her life had Yao’er been so humiliated. What did it matter how beautiful her dress, how exquisite her attire? The gown she wore wasn’t even from Xunfang, making her exclusion all the more ironic.

Cutting, mocking voices surfaced once more, tearing away at her carefully maintained façade. There was nothing Yao’er could do to salvage the situation. "Fashion show is about to start, yet so many are still waiting to get in," someone sighed.

Yuan Xiangdie echoed the sentiment, delighted. "Rules are rules. Otherwise, Mr. Situ wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to send us the invitation. It’s our first time at his show; we must behave and not cause trouble." Every word was a slap across Yao’er’s delicate face, each stroke crisp and clear.

Caught in this predicament, humiliated before so many—some of whom she’d once banished from Xunfang—Yao’er was at a loss. In the past, her status had shielded her from consequences, but now she was like an ant on a hot pan, desperate and helpless.

At that moment, the man in the red suit appeared as if descended from the heavens. Yao’er forgot to breathe; every woman present was captivated. Even half-hidden behind a mask, his eyes and brows alone could steal one’s soul.

"If you can’t think of an answer, step aside and get back in line. There are plenty of people waiting; don’t block the way," he said.

She’d thought he might rescue her, but instead, he’d come to ruin her. Yao’er tried to tug Mr. Zhang beside her, hoping for a word in her defense, but he was yanked away with such force it felt almost vindictive.

"If Yao’er needs more time to think, let’s not disturb others. We can wait until she’s ready," he remarked, his tone icy but his voice gentle.

Julie stifled a laugh, her expression a dagger in Yao’er’s eyes. The hostess placed the two invitations into Du Kai’s machine, verified their identities, and then bowed, inviting them in.

After that, everything proceeded smoothly; no one else was stopped, for typically only the named invitee could bring a guest. Laughter rippled behind them. "Ha! I thought that woman had some real pull, but she couldn’t even get in with an invitation…"