Sweetie, don't look at him, kiss me.

When Lin Qingmian went to the address sent by Zhang Yuzhu, the high-end custom shop was located in a quiet alley in the east of the city.

The storefront is small, with a signboard in gold lettering in English, and a few sample garments hanging in the window.

She pushed open the door and went in. The air conditioning in the store was on full blast, and a wave of cold air hit her face.

The shop assistant looked up at her, but before she could ask anything, she saw that familiar figure in the direction of the fitting room.

Lin Qingqing was standing in front of the full-length mirror, wearing a champagne-colored long dress, turning slightly to look at herself in the mirror.

Zhang Yuzhu sat on the sofa next to her, holding a cup of floral tea, and was telling the shop assistant to tighten the waistline a little more.

"Lin Qingqing".

Lin Qingmian's voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to make everyone in the store turn their heads.

When Lin Qingqing saw her in the mirror, her smile froze for a moment before returning to normal. She turned around and looked at her with a beaming smile.

"Mianmian, you're here? Quick, help me see what I think of this dress!"

"I feel like my waist could be tightened up a little more—"

"This dress," Lin Qingmian walked up to her and stopped, "was designed by me."

Lin Qingqing's smile remained unchanged.

"I know."

She tilted her head slightly, her tone light and cheerful as if she were just talking about something trivial.

"Do you think it's not suitable for me? I think it suits me quite well."

"Champagne color complements the skin tone, and this waistline also accentuates the figure."

"Where did you get the manuscript from?"

Lin Qingmian's voice was very low, but every word carried an undeniable chill.

Lin Qingqing lowered her head to straighten her skirt, then raised her head and met her gaze.

"You sent an email to Su Tingwan, and I took a look at it."

"I just happened to think this dress was pretty, so I took it and had it made."

"What, did you put your name on this design?"

Have you applied for a patent?

Have you registered your copyright?

"If you don't have any, what's wrong with me wearing it?"

Her tone remained gentle, carrying Lin Qingqing's signature soft and weak demeanor, but every word she uttered was like a needle.

"We'll talk about it later—"

She lowered her eyes, her fingertips gently tracing the fabric of her skirt.

"This dress really looks good on me."

"You wouldn't want me to wear an unflattering dress to my engagement, would you?"

"You're my sister, you should want me to get married looking beautiful."

Looking at her matter-of-fact expression, Lin Qingmian suddenly felt that her trip was unnecessary.

Before she came, she wondered if she would admit it, apologize, or say "I was wrong".

But as she stood there looking at Lin Qingqing's gentle face and hearing her say those words in a tone that seemed to say, "Why are you so petty?", she realized that Lin Qingqing never thought she had done anything wrong.

Just as she was about to speak, her phone rang.

She glanced down at the screen—Su Tingwan.

She answered the phone, and Su Tingwan's voice came through the receiver. It was still gentle and sweet, but the last syllable of her voice carried a coldness that Lin Qingmian had never heard from her before.

"Qingmian, I don't care what your problem is, I have to wear that dress to the engagement party next Saturday."

"If you can't do that, I'll tell everyone that you plagiarized my design."

"Do you think your explanation will be more effective, or my influence will be?"

After saying that, Su Tingwan hung up without waiting for her reply.

Lin Qingmian stood there, holding her phone, the echo of that call still ringing in her ears.

In front of her was Lin Qingqing, wearing her designs and twirling in front of the mirror.

The phone screen shows the call log after Su Tingwan hung up.

She was silent for a few seconds, then turned and walked out of the store.

On the way to the Century Building by taxi, she kept thinking about what to do.

It's too late to redraw it.

It's too late to find out who stole the design drafts.

The only thing we can do is to make a new one.

But she had no fabric, no tailor, no studio, nothing.

She stood downstairs at the Century Building for a while, then sent Bai Cheng a message: "Is Ji Linzhou there?"

Bai Cheng replied instantly: "Yes. Madam, please come up directly."

She took the elevator to the top floor and knocked on the door of Ji Linzhou's office.

The man was sitting at his desk flipping through documents when he heard a knock on the door. He looked up, saw her, and raised an eyebrow slightly: "Why are you here at this hour?"

"I need your help."

She stopped in front of the desk.

"Does your clothing brand have a fabric warehouse? I need a few bolts of fabric."

"And could I borrow the tailor's studio for the night?"

Ji Linzhou leaned back in his chair and looked at her, without answering immediately.

His gaze lingered on her face for a moment, as if observing her expression or assessing the urgency of the matter.

Then he put down the documents in his hand and stood up.

"Let's go."

"Where to?"

"The warehouse and studio are both on the third floor."

He walked around the desk and picked up the coat draped over the back of the chair.

"I'll take you there."

The warehouse was much bigger than she had imagined.

The entire floor was covered with a light gray carpet, and rows of metal shelves were stacked with rolls of fabric of various colors.

On the worktable next to it were a sewing machine, scissors, an iron, a cutting board, and a mannequin.

Ji Linzhou led her to the worktable without asking any questions or urging her.

"You can use any of the materials and tools here."

"If there's anything you need to say, talk to Bai Cheng. He's outside."

He stepped back to the doorway, as if to leave her some space.

But he didn't go far; he leaned against the door frame, looking down at his phone, as if he were processing messages or keeping watch.

Lin Qingmian stood in front of the worktable, took a deep breath, and then picked up a measuring tape and chalk to begin cutting the fabric.

Her fingers were steady, her movements were swift, and she hardly hesitated when she cut.

From late at night until the early hours of the morning, the amount of waste on the worktable increased, and the outline of the dress on the mannequin became clearer and clearer.

Ji Linzhou leaned against the door frame, having already put his phone away at some point.

He watched her bending over and working under the light.

Looking at her focused profile as she cut the fabric.

The corners of her mouth were slightly pursed as she sewed.

She casually tucked the stray hairs that fell down while ironing behind her ear.

He has seen many designers' works and attended many exhibitions and fashion shows.

I've also seen many people share their ideas and inspirations under the lights.

But this was the first time he had personally witnessed the entire process of a garment transforming from a piece of cloth into a finished product.

Watching a person's ideas, patience, and skills slowly transform into something tangible, stitch by stitch.

He stood at the door for a long time without making a sound to disturb them.

As dawn approached, Lin Qingmian finally finished sewing the last thread.

She took a step back and looked at the completed dress on the mannequin.

Champagne color, with a more lustrous finish than the previous one.

The neckline has been changed to a more streamlined V-shape.

The waistline has been slightly raised.

The subtle pattern on the skirt hem has been replaced with hand-sewn beads.

Every adjustment is in the details, and every modification is more refined than the original.

She rubbed her aching wrists, turned around, and saw Ji Linzhou still leaning against the door.

"You haven't left?"

The man nodded: "I'm keeping watch over you because I'm afraid you'll work yourself to death."