This Wasn't My Best Fate

Li Xiang was nowhere near as stiff as Qin Zhong.

He had a fortune teller's eye for reading people, a painter's sense of composition, and countless fashion magazines and films from his previous life to draw on.

He knew perfectly well that a model wasn't a block of wood. A model had to perform.

He walked to the center of the platform. Instead of striking a pose at once, he looked around the room.

As his gaze passed over the wealthy ladies, he gave a slight nod and a polite smile that kept just the right distance.

That smile was like a spring breeze brushing their faces.

Then he gently adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose. He slipped his other hand into his trouser pocket and leaned back a little, striking a pose at once relaxed and elegant.

Click.

It was as though a shutter had gone off in everyone's mind.

At that moment, he was not Li Xiang. He was the soul of the clothes he wore.

Ye Wanqing watched him on the platform, her eyes shining as never before.

"Good. Wonderful," she exclaimed. "That's exactly the feeling I wanted."

"Qin Zhong's rugged strength and Li Xiang's refined elegance are two completely different styles. Together, they bring out everything special about this menswear collection."

"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant."

A well-preserved lady in her forties set down her coffee cup. Her gaze lingered on Li Xiang as she sighed in admiration.

She felt her heart skip a beat, and a long-forgotten blush rose to her cheeks. The old oyster was showing signs of holding a pearl.

"That figure, that bearing—even the young noblemen of the old imperial court didn't have quite that air, did they?"

"Boss Ye, I'll take that outfit. Order one for my husband," called another lady in a mink vest.

She knew perfectly well that her potbellied husband would look like a toad in a suit. That did nothing to stop her from paying for the pleasure of what she saw now.

"I want one too. Order one for my son."

"Are the model's glasses for sale? I think they're the finishing touch."

For a moment, the second-floor hall, so quiet and elegant before, grew almost as lively as a market.

Ye Wanqing stood to one side, her eyes shining ever brighter.

She was a businesswoman, but she was an artist too.

She knew this collection was going to sell.

Behind and to the side of the platform was a rest area, separated from it by a curtain.

Several professional Male Models whom Ye Wanqing had dismissed as not "rugged" enough had gathered there. They watched the two men basking in the spotlight through a gap in the screen, their expressions sour.

This was how they earned their living. They ate greens at every meal to keep their figures and practiced their runway walks until their feet blistered.

Yet two martial artists who had appeared from nowhere had arrived and stolen the spotlight. Worse, they were connections Boss Ye had personally brought in.

"What a joke!"

The scorn in the voice of a slick-haired Male Model who went by the Western name Jack was unmistakable.

"Two rough martial artists. What do they know about fashion? About style?"

He pointed through the gap in the curtain. "Look at that big guy. He doesn't even know how to stand. He's planted there like a wooden post, stiff as a corpse. There's no beauty in it at all. It's an insult to fashion."

"Exactly," another Male Model chimed in. "The pretty boy in glasses is a little better, but that's about it. Boss Ye is playing favorites. She gave them the best clothes."

"If I wore that suit, I could get the same reaction."

The two men had taken work that might have been theirs. Naturally, the models couldn't stand Li Xiang or Qin Zhong.

In their eyes, modeling was a noble profession, an art devoted to displaying beauty. It demanded training and talent.

These two martial artists who had come in through connections were nothing but flies in the ointment.

"Give it a rest, Jack. All of you."

A female model applying lipstick nearby rolled her eyes. "With those scrawny frames of yours, could you even fill out that overcoat? You'd look like children who'd stolen their parents' clothes."

"You!" Jack choked with anger but could not argue. "Boss Ye is just playing favorites. Hires like that are a novelty. Once those rich ladies get tired of them, they'll need professionals like us, won't they?"

"Professionals?"

A female model who had been sitting silently by the window spoke up. She exhaled a pale blue plume of smoke and gazed hazily at the ceiling.

Her name was Zhang Xiaoman. She had peach-blossom eyes, bright red lips, and a long, slim cigarette between her fingers. There was something decadent about her pose, yet alluring in its own way.

"In the Age of Chaos, there's no such thing as an absolute professional. The real skill is seizing a chance to climb."

Zhang Xiaoman's voice was a little hoarse, edged with the indifference of someone who had seen through the world.

"I don't like the sound of that, Xiaoman." Jack curled his lip. "What future do those two fighters have? You heard it yourself just now. They're students at that Shocking Heron Martial Arts Hall. They call themselves the hall master's disciples, but they're really just there to do odd jobs."

"What's wrong with doing odd jobs?"

Zhang Xiaoman turned to Jack and looked at him as though he were an idiot.

"That Qin Zhong has hundreds of rickshaw drivers under him. Run into him on the streets of Linjiang County after you leave here, and you'd still have to call him Master Seven."

"And that Li Xiang may look scholarly, but he has presence. When he was changing clothes earlier, I saw his build and the look in his eyes. He's no fish meant to stay in a pond."

At that, Zhang Xiaoman gave a soft laugh and tapped the ash from her cigarette.

"People say they got in through connections. I'm not so sure. Men like that would make something of themselves sooner or later, connections or not."

"Hah. And what if they do? They'll still have to lick blood from a blade's edge."

Another young female model sounded unconvinced. She was touching up her makeup with a little mirror, her eyes bright with innocent ambition.

"Men can't be relied on. If you ask me, you have to rely on yourself." She put down the mirror, her face full of longing.

"I'm going to save up. Once I have enough, I'll go to Shanghai, the Demon City, and find a famous director. I heard the film star Xiao Meng can earn enough for a whole building from one picture. I'm not bad-looking, so why couldn't I become a star?"

"A star?" Jack sneered. "You? You'll be tricked into a brothel before you even meet a director."

"Shut up!"

The rest area erupted into an argument.

Zhang Xiaoman ignored them. Through the smoke, she turned her gaze back to the two figures on the platform.

"Zhang Xiaoman, what's this? Taken a fancy to them?" asked a female model in a qipao and striking makeup.

Zhang Xiaoman was beautiful in a wild way. A restless madness always glimmered in her peach-blossom eyes.

"They're Boss Ye's husband's disciples. Marrying one wouldn't be beneath you," the heavily made-up model teased.

"Marry one of them? No..." Zhang Xiaoman shook her head. She dropped her cigarette and ground it out hard beneath the narrow heel of her shoe.

"That isn't my fate."

"Martial artists don't live long. They lick blood from a blade's edge. One day I might wake up a widow."

She rose and straightened the hem of her qipao. A flash of resolve crossed her eyes.

"My best fate is to marry a nobleman from the West, follow him back to Great Britain, live in a castle, drink afternoon tea, and enjoy a real upper-class life."

"Failing that, I'll find a warlord with guns at his command and become his concubine, decked out in gold and silver."

She turned toward the Male Models who were still complaining, a mocking smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Instead of envying two martial artists, you'd be better off thinking about how to raise your own worth."

"In this world, your face and figure are your capital. Your brain is what keeps you alive."

The rest area was thick with desire and ambition.

In an age where glitter and turmoil lived side by side, everyone calculated and struggled for their future. Some sold their bodies, others their souls, all to climb a little higher.