Impact

Among the sixth batch, several of the male models stood out even more in terms of looks. Calling them exceptionally handsome wouldn't have been an exaggeration.

Zhang Yang walked over. He was quite handsome himself, with well-defined features, but among these professional male models who relied purely on their looks, he was a little less striking.

"Hey, which modeling agency are you with?" one of the handsome guys with a Japanese style asked Zhang Yang curiously.

"Me?" Zhang Yang chuckled. "I'm not with an agency. I saw they were recruiting print models here, so I thought I'd come by and earn some extra money."

The others understood. "So you're a freelance model!"

No one considered Zhang Yang a competitor. After all, he didn't have an agency or any experience, and his looks weren't particularly striking either. He was probably just here to make up the numbers.

The large conference room at Aisha Fashion had been transformed into an audition space.

To keep things moving efficiently, they called the applicants in batch by batch.

Zhang Yang waited outside, bored. As he watched batches of strikingly handsome guys go in and come back out, one after another like a production line, he couldn't help feeling a little wistful.

So what if you were handsome? You still got picked over and judged.

At least he didn't rely on his looks to make a living. He was only doing this part-time for the money—and for the experience points.

Finally, the fifth batch went in. The next one was theirs.

The guys in his group included Japanese, Korean, and Western styles. They all rubbed their hands together, eager to go in.

"I heard Irene, Aisha Fashion's fashion director, is here today. She's notorious—an absolute she-devil!"

"Yikes, she has a really sharp eye and high standards. Now I'm starting to feel nervous."

As they chatted among themselves, the people in the fifth batch began trickling out.

"Sixth batch, the sixth batch, come on in!" a staff member called loudly from outside.

Zhang Yang calmly followed the others inside.

In the spacious room, a stunning woman with an imposing presence scrutinized them from the middle of the interview panel. The other interviewers beside her seemed like mere extras. They all looked too intimidated to even breathe.

"Director Irene, here are the basic details for the sixth batch of models." A staff member beside her bent forward with a broad smile and handed her the résumés.

Irene, known around the company as the she-devil of fashion, flipped through the résumés, then looked up and compared them with the men one by one, her brow furrowing slightly.

No one beside her dared make a sound.

"The clothes are over there. Go change," Irene said, no longer looking at the résumés in her hands. She pointed to a spot not far away.

Staff immediately brought out the outfits needed for the shoot and arranged for the men to change.

The other print models in the sixth batch exchanged glances, then took off their jackets and prepared to change.

"Take off your shirts too. Leave your upper bodies bare." Irene tapped her pen against the table and spoke calmly.

The men froze for a moment, but quickly took off their shirts or T-shirts.

Under the lights, each of them had a physique that stood out in its own way.

Some were tall, slim, and fair, with a Japanese or Korean look; others were tall and muscular, with a Western look. Whatever else they had, their abs were all clearly defined.

After all, to most people, visible abs meant you were muscular.

Irene calmly examined the men before her, occasionally exchanging a few quiet words with the staff beside her. She nodded and shook her head from time to time, apparently judging whether they were suitable.

"Hey, you over there. Why aren't you changing?" Before long, everyone noticed Zhang Yang hesitating.

Of course Zhang Yang was hesitating.

Taking off his clothes and showing off his physique in front of everyone wasn't something he could do with such ease. After all, he wasn't a professional print model.

He finally managed to psych himself up a little and began taking off his shirt.

"Your name is Zhang Yang, right? Your résumé says you have no professional experience at all. Is that correct?" Irene looked at him, checked his résumé, and asked bluntly.

"Yes." Zhang Yang didn't deny it. He nodded.

"If you have no experience whatsoever, you probably aren't suited to working with us. After all, we do need—" Irene's sentence cut off abruptly. She stared at Zhang Yang, who had just taken off his jacket.

His physique hadn't been obvious while he was wearing his jacket, but now that it was off, even a T-shirt could hardly hide the lines of his muscles.

Then he pulled his T-shirt up and off.

A wave of stifled gasps immediately swept through the room.

"Holy crap!"

"That physique! Those finely sculpted muscles!"

"Perfect! This body is unbeatable, absolutely flawless—perfect in every way!"

Everyone stared, dumbfounded, at the broad shoulders and narrow waist before them, at a body so perfect that every muscle was sharply defined. They couldn't stop exclaiming in amazement.

Yes, the face above his neck was rather unremarkable.

But everything below his neck was practically flawless. He was a perfect fit for print modeling, like a gift from the heavens.

"You're the one!" Irene slapped the résumé down on the table.

Why bother looking at résumés? Why care about work experience?

All that mattered was whether someone was right for the job.

It wasn't that print models had to be muscular. It was just that their theme and style for this shoot called for exactly this type of male model.

The impact of his perfect physique was almost tailor-made for the theme of their shoot.

The other guys in the sixth batch were dumbfounded.

"What kind of rookie is this? He's obviously a max-level player who came to the newbie village to mess with us!"

"I thought he was a bronze, but he's actually a king!"

"How the hell did he build a body like that?"

Every model worked to maintain their physique; they just had different goals. Some aimed for balanced proportions, while others focused on building muscle.

But anyone who had spent time working out knew that a physique like his was one in a million!

That was it. They were done for!

"That's it? I got the job?" Zhang Yang himself was a little surprised.

He was a complete rookie with no work experience, walking in blind and hoping to give it a shot. Yet he'd already passed the first round?

It seemed he'd underestimated the power of his physique.

His looks were only average for a male model, but his physique was a one-in-a-million peak specimen. For someone like that, passing an audition for an ordinary print modeling job was as good as wiping out the competition in an instant!

"Let everyone know the auditions are over for today." Irene called over her assistant and gave the order.

"Huh? Irene, shouldn't we at least see the rest of them? Isn't it a little unfair to stop now?" her assistant asked hesitantly.

"There's no need. He's the one who best meets my standards. No one else will be a better fit." Irene shook her head decisively, then looked at Zhang Yang. "Get in touch with the team and prepare for the shoot this afternoon. Oh, and pay him the highest hourly rate."

She stood up and left first. Before she went, she couldn't help glancing at Zhang Yang a few more times.

A little while later, Zhang Yang finished coordinating with the Aisha Fashion staff.

The original pay for the job had been five hundred yuan for the day. But after Director Irene from Aisha Fashion Weekly personally gave the word, Zhang Yang would be paid by the hour—and at the highest rate.

All told, just completing the afternoon shoot would earn him fifteen hundred yuan.

"Being a male model really pays," Zhang Yang thought happily.

He did the math. He needed ten thousand yuan from part-time work, and this one afternoon had already brought in fifteen hundred. He was making progress at lightning speed!

But he didn't let himself get carried away. He was only doing this temporary job to complete a task. Make a living at it? What a joke. He, Zhang, made nearly twenty million a year. Why would he bother with this?