Chapter 46: My Pride

When Fu Miao saw him, she instinctively stepped behind Fu Yanchuan. Fu Yanchuan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then politely greeted Lin Zhouye, “What a coincidence, President Lin, you’re here for the show as well.”

Lin Zhouye nodded, mirroring his composure. “A friend invited me. I happened to have business nearby, so I came to take a look.”

“Xiaobai is here too, just arrived today,” Fu Yanchuan said.

“I know. I was just about to go see her,” Lin Zhouye replied.

The relationship between Lin Zhouye and Fu Yanchuan was quite good. Back when Lin Wanbai hadn’t caused a scene over the broken engagement, the two would even go out for drinks together. After that mess, Lin Zhouye felt somewhat ashamed, and their contact gradually grew distant.

In truth, the entire Lin family, including Lin Zhouye himself, thought Fu Yanchuan was the ideal son-in-law. He was suitable in every aspect; most importantly, his character was impeccable, and his feelings for Xiaobai were pure. He cared deeply for Lin Wanbai. If Xiaobai had married him, she would surely have been happy.

What a pity.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Fu Miao remained hidden behind Fu Yanchuan, only peeking out to say a courteous farewell when Lin Zhouye turned to leave.

Once he’d entered the elevator and disappeared from sight, Fu Yanchuan turned to look at her, amusement and inquiry flickering in his eyes.

Fu Miao coughed, then said, “Well, I still have to check the venue and rehearse today, I’m swamped. Whether you need me or not, don’t come looking for me. I’m off.”

She tried to slip away, but Fu Yanchuan caught her and pulled her into the room.

“Come on, tell me—what’s going on with you and Lin Zhouye?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’s going on’? What are you thinking? Lin Zhouye is Lin Wanbai’s uncle. How could I possibly have anything to do with her uncle? If you dislike someone, you dislike everything about them, including the people around them.”

Fu Miao lifted her chin, arms crossed, tossed her hair, and avoided his gaze—a clear sign of nerves.

Fu Yanchuan poured himself some water and chuckled, “Still trying to hide it from me? I thought you two broke up ages ago. Did Lin Zhouye come here this time for you?”

At this, Fu Miao’s eyes widened and she marched straight over, exclaiming, “How do you know I dated him?”

Fu Yanchuan took a sip, smiling broadly. “Well, so you really did. When did this happen? You went abroad at eighteen, and I never saw you involved with him before. Who made the first move, him or you?”

Fu Miao’s face flushed and she waved her hands vigorously. “No, no, drop it!”

She covered her cheeks, and Fu Yanchuan just leaned against the cabinet, cup in hand, grinning as he watched her—these two had certainly kept things well hidden.

After a moment, Fu Miao composed herself, glared at Fu Yanchuan, and threatened, “If you dare breathe a word about this, I’ll hit you and spread rumors everywhere that you’re waiting for Lin Wanbai to divorce so you can swoop in.”

Unperturbed, Fu Yanchuan drained his glass and said, still smiling, “I’m tighter-lipped than you.”

They fell silent until Fu Miao’s phone rang; it was her assistant calling about a problem with the clothes. She hurried off after a few final instructions.

When she reached the hotel lobby, she saw Lin Zhouye standing by the entrance, apparently waiting for a car. She hesitated, then walked over and greeted him calmly, “President Lin.”

He turned, looked her up and down, and nodded.

Fu Miao bit her lip, wanting to ask more, but restrained herself.

“Wish you success,” he said lightly after a pause, turning aside as his car arrived. As he was about to close the door, Fu Miao stepped forward, holding the door with a smile, “Uncle Lin, could you give me a ride? I’m in a bit of a hurry and the staff car broke down.”

Lin Zhouye glanced at her, then shifted to the other side, tacitly agreeing.

Fu Miao felt a flicker of delight, thanked him, and got in, quickly messaging the staff that they didn’t need to pick her up.

Sharing a car in silence felt strange. After a moment, she asked, “Are you heading to work?”

“Mm.”

“Don’t forget to rest even if you’re busy.”

“Thank you.”

She tried to suppress her urge to chat but couldn’t resist. “How long will you be staying here?”

“Not sure yet. Depends on work progress. If all goes well, two or three days.”

She nodded, then asked, “Are you working all day?”

At that, Lin Zhouye finally looked up from his phone. “Do you have time?”

The smile in her eyes was unguarded. “I do.”

He nodded, smiling. “I thought you’d be busy.”

“If I arrange things properly, I can always make time.”

“You’re very capable.”

She smiled happily. “If this show is a success, I’ll treat you to dinner. Deal?”

“Deal,” Lin Zhouye replied coolly.

Fu Miao pressed her lips together, her heart light.

…

Lin Wanbai returned to her room, washed up, and went straight to sleep to adjust her jet lag. She hadn’t expected Lin Zhouye to be there too. They’d only exchanged a few words before he went off to work—they’d arranged to have dinner together.

That evening, Fu Juxing came to wake her. Still groggy, she leaned on him all the way down, eyes closed.

Lin Zhouye had arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early. Seeing the two of them come in so clingy, he raised a brow—her tactic had clearly succeeded. The overly affectionate scene was an eyesore, and he quickly looked away. No matter what, he still didn’t like Fu Juxing.

“Uncle,” Fu Juxing greeted politely.

Lin Wanbai roused herself, pulled out a chair, and sat down. She’d only taken a quick photo with him earlier and hadn’t asked much. Now, feeling more alert, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? Didn’t you know I’d be here this week too?”

“How would I know?” Lin Zhouye retorted.

“I come for Fashion Week every year, you know that.”

He just smiled, sipped his water, and called the waiter over.

They each ordered. Lin Wanbai, with little appetite, chose a set meal and focused on Lin Zhouye again. “Are you going to the show tomorrow?”

“We’ll see.”

“Do you have an invitation?”

Lin Zhouye looked up; Lin Wanbai arched a brow as if she’d caught him.

“I do. Is it so hard to get one?”

She propped her chin in her hand, laughing. “Not really, but when did you get interested in fashion? I used to beg you to come, and you never wanted to.”

Too lazy to argue, Lin Zhouye handed the menu back to the waiter, then turned to Fu Juxing. “I recall your company’s been busy lately. You still have time to accompany her to shows? How’s the deal with the Harbor District going?”

“Almost done. Just the final profit split left. They lack funding, so they’re the ones anxious now.”

As they discussed business, Lin Wanbai wisely stayed out of it. Glancing around, she saw Fu Yanchuan and Zhao Yiling enter the restaurant. They looked perfectly matched, both in demeanor and appearance.

Fu Yanchuan spotted them immediately. Lin Wanbai thought he’d ignore them, but to her surprise, he brought Zhao Yiling over to greet them.

Lin Zhouye and Fu Juxing both stood.

Zhao Yiling greeted Lin Zhouye graciously, shaking his hand. “Hello, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lin Zhouye replied. “Seeing is believing.”

It was the first time they’d properly met—polite but distant.

After the brief exchange, Fu Yanchuan and Zhao Yiling went to their table, which was some distance away.

Lin Wanbai kept glancing in that direction. Lin Zhouye and Fu Juxing exchanged looks, then looked at her.

Under the table, Fu Juxing pinched her leg. Lin Wanbai snapped her gaze back, grabbed his hand, and turned to Lin Zhouye. “Did you see that?”

“What?”

“Zhao Yiling.”

“You still haven’t given up?” Lin Zhouye asked.

Lin Wanbai grinned, half-joking, half-serious. “He’s not married, she’s not married, there’s still a chance, right?”

“Don’t concern yourself.”

“Fine, then tell me—who gave you the invitation?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Lin Zhouye saw right through her. If Fu Yanchuan really married Zhao Yiling, Fu Juxing’s only advantage at Fu Corporation would be gone. Before, with the Lin family’s backing, he had a shot. But if Fu Yanchuan married Zhao Yiling, even that would disappear. Of course, the Lin family still had him as a bachelor. If he ended up with Zhao Yiling, it would be perfect—everyone happy, all the benefits on their side.

Overall, it would be a good thing for the Lin family. But Lin Zhouye simply didn’t want to do it. On one hand, Lin Wanbai’s broken engagement had been a great blow to Fu Yanchuan, and now that he was sincere about Zhao Yiling, it was a good thing. On the other, Lin Zhouye didn’t want Fu Juxing to inherit Fu Corporation—he simply didn’t like him.

Seeing his resistance, Lin Wanbai dropped the subject and chatted about trivial matters.

After dinner, they each returned to their rooms.

Lin Wanbai sat cross-legged on her bed while Fu Juxing went to his study to work. She wondered if Lin Zhouye had found himself a supermodel girlfriend, but it didn’t seem like his style. In any case, even if he had, it was understandable at his age. She had married as she pleased; how could she judge others? At worst, she’d just work harder herself and still support Fu Juxing’s career.

She didn’t care about inheriting the Fu family business. With Fu Juxing’s ability, he could make his own way. The only worry was that old witch Jiang Shuzhi, who was always scheming against him.

After her skincare routine, Lin Wanbai took some fruit to the study for Fu Juxing, who was in a video conference. She left the fruit and tea and quietly stepped out.

The next morning, she woke at dawn. Fu Juxing had worked late, and she’d long since fallen asleep. Perhaps knowing she had to get up early, he hadn’t disturbed her in the night. She slept peacefully until morning.

When he came to bed, she vaguely heard him, and when he went to the bathroom, she checked the time—it was 2 a.m. local. He’d been working nonstop since landing. The company was just starting out, so he was busy, but he insisted on coming with her.

She felt a pang of concern.

Moving quietly, she washed up, careful not to make noise. She ordered a Chinese breakfast.

After she’d finished, her team arrived with outfits and accessories. The FK team was professional and well-known in the industry, with outstanding hair and makeup. The clothes were custom-made—she’d never end up in something someone else had worn. On this point, Lin Wanbai was very satisfied.

Fu Juxing came out at 9:30, greeted her, then went to the restaurant for breakfast. He had little else to do, so he sat opposite her, watching her most of the time, only occasionally glancing at his phone or sipping water.

Even just woken, he looked tempting enough that Lin Wanbai wanted to go kiss him.

The time difference meant that while it was downtime back home, he could relax.

“You don’t have much to do now. Why not get some more sleep?” she suggested.

“I’m not tired.”

“I worry you’ll be busy tonight. Better to rest while you can.”

He smiled gently and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ve arranged things—these two days, I won’t be busy at all. I’ll just focus on being with you.”

Since he said so, she didn’t push it.

Once she was ready, she went to try on clothes. The stylist offered to do his hair, but he declined. He had no interest in the industry; he was only here to accompany her, not to join in.

When all was set, they headed to the venue together. It was crowded. Lin Wanbai didn’t attend every show, just selected a few brands. Inside, she ran into many acquaintances, both men and women. As soon as she arrived, people flocked to chat with her.

Fu Juxing was out of his element, merely a foil to Lin Wanbai. When reporters appeared, he’d step aside at just the right moment. From not too close, not too far, he watched Lin Wanbai shining in the crowd—she was always the brightest presence. Her outfit and styling were impeccable; many men stared at her.

She’d always been dazzling, since she was a child.

After the last photo, Lin Wanbai found an excuse to drag Fu Juxing out the side door to avoid more small talk.

“These people are exhausting. I hate these kinds of events,” Lin Wanbai whispered.

“But I think you’re happy. You enjoy it,” Fu Juxing replied.

“What? Have you been watching me the whole time?”

“You’re so beautiful, it’s hard not to stare. And it’s not just me—lots of people are watching you.”

She tilted her head, stopped in front of him, and examined his face. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he smiled, stroking her cheek. “I’m proud.”

She grinned, her smile growing brighter as she hugged his arm. “I’m proud too.”

They entered. Her seat was at the front by the runway, one of the best spots. Fu Juxing sat a row behind. Soon, the show began.

Lin Wanbai watched intently. Fashion wasn’t Fu Juxing’s forte, and he wasn’t interested. Most of the time, he just watched her. She was completely focused, only occasionally glancing back at him. He knew she was always this dedicated. Her standards were high—where others aimed for a hundred percent, she wouldn’t settle for less than a hundred and twenty, and that was her baseline.

She had to work harder than most to prove herself, because for people like them, no matter how hard they tried, outsiders always assumed it was just because their families were rich. With money, you’re ahead from birth, so ordinary kids can’t catch up—let alone if you’re rich and hardworking. That’s just unfair.

At lunch, Lin Wanbai scanned the room. “Have you seen Lin Zhouye?”

“Haven’t noticed,” Fu Juxing answered.

“I’ll call him.” She finished her bread and dialed his number.

After a while, he answered. “What is it?”

“Where are you? Didn’t come to the show?”

“No. Why?”

She covered one ear, listening to the quiet sounds on his end, “Are you still at the hotel?”

“You’re being nosy.” Before she could respond, he hung up.

Lin Wanbai clicked her tongue. “Lin Zhouye is definitely up to something.”

“If he doesn’t want people to know, just pretend you don’t. When the time comes, you’ll find out,” Fu Juxing advised.

“I was hoping he and Zhao Yiling might get together.”

He nodded, analyzing rationally, “Being with Zhao Yiling would be good for him. I heard the Lu family is interested too, but Old Madam Zhao is very pleased with my brother. Yesterday, they seemed to get along well. If nothing unexpected happens, they’ll likely get engaged soon. Since it’s already come to this, it’s not suitable for your uncle to step in. Besides, Old Madam Zhao is very traditional—if your uncle tried to steal her away, he’d never win her favor.”

Lin Wanbai paused, brow raised, and looked at him patiently. After he finished, she smiled, “I thought you didn’t care, but you actually know a lot.”

He smiled frankly. “It’s family business—I keep myself informed.”

They exchanged glances but said no more.

…

Fu Miao’s show was in the evening.

Lin Wanbai and Fu Juxing took a stroll and had dinner before arriving early to get seated. Zhao Yiling and Fu Yanchuan were also there, farther away. They exchanged greetings and sat.

Lin Wanbai glanced at the designer’s booklet. Fu Miao had made a name for herself in recent years. If this show succeeded, her reputation would soar, and even starting her own studio back home would be easy. She would have no shortage of resources.

In her career, Lin Wanbai had already fallen behind. Though her writing was impressive, Fu Miao’s personal achievements were more outstanding.

At this moment, Zhao Yiling came over and invited her backstage to see Fu Miao. Lin Wanbai agreed readily. Fu Yanchuan followed and sat next to Fu Juxing, arranging the seats with the staff.

The two brothers greeted each other, then fell silent. Though both were outwardly friendly, circumstances made sitting together awkward.

Backstage, Fu Miao was busy, dressed casually, hair a mess, too preoccupied to care about her appearance. She was furious, scolding her assistant in fluent English.

Lin Wanbai and Zhao Yiling kept their distance—this was Fu Miao’s domain, and even if she was yelling, it wasn’t their place to intervene.

Only when Fu Miao calmed down did she notice them. Seeing the two together, she didn’t know what expression to wear. She pushed her glasses onto her head and walked over. “Half an hour to go—so early?”

“Of course. Here to cheer you on,” Zhao Yiling said.

Lin Wanbai folded her arms, smiling as she watched the models come and go. Her gaze settled on one model, and after a moment, she walked over, her expression serious. This caught Fu Miao’s attention; she kept talking, but her eyes followed Lin Wanbai.

She watched as Lin Wanbai pulled the model to her feet.

Forgetting about Zhao Yiling, Fu Miao went over. “What’s wrong?”

Lin Wanbai frowned slightly, glanced at her, and said, “Come with me.”

Fu Miao followed. “What is it?”

“That dress—did you design it yourself?”

“Of course. Every piece here is mine.”

Lin Wanbai smiled, a trace of irony in her expression. “Are you sure?”

“What are you getting at?”

“You’d better not use that dress. Otherwise, I’m afraid you won’t just miss out on fame—you might be blacklisted from the fashion world.”

Fu Miao snorted. “You’re funny. Is this jealousy because of my big moment?”

“I have nothing to be jealous of. I just want to warn you: if that dress goes on stage, don’t blame me for being merciless with my words.”

“Lin Wanbai, what are you talking about?”

She glanced at Fu Miao and smiled. “You know perfectly well what I mean. What do designers hate most? As an excellent designer, you should know. And at a show like this, it’s not the time to get lucky. Fu Miao, you’re not so desperate, are you? You’ve got fifteen minutes—think it over.”

With that, she left. After notifying Zhao Yiling, she returned to her seat, studying the booklet more carefully. The more she looked, the more shocked she became.

A while later, Zhao Yiling returned. Fifteen minutes passed, and the show began. Every outfit appeared as scheduled. Lin Wanbai was disappointed, her face grim.

Around her, there was a chorus of praise and amazement.

From start to finish, the show was a resounding success—the most acclaimed of the event.

In the finale, Fu Miao took the stage, simply dressed, surrounded by models, accepting the applause.

Lin Wanbai didn’t stay to the end. She told Fu Juxing she felt unwell and left early. In the crowd, she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure—it seemed to be Lin Zhouye. She glanced back at Fu Miao on stage, who seemed to be looking at her too.

Outside the venue, she’d left in such haste that the car hadn’t arrived yet, so they had to wait. Most people were still inside; it was quiet.

Fu Juxing took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “What happened? You seem unhappy.”

“Nothing,” she replied, smiling.

“If there’s anything, you have to tell me.”

“Really, I’m just hungry. Let’s go find a restaurant. Being hungry really puts me in a bad mood.”

After ten minutes, the car came, and they left.

They stopped for food, then returned to the hotel.

During the meal, Lin Wanbai received an invitation to the afterparty, which she declined despite repeated persuasion.

Near midnight, the doorbell rang.

Fu Juxing answered and found Fu Miao at the door, looking composed. “I want to see Lin Wanbai.”

“She’s resting. Talk tomorrow.”

“I know she’s not asleep. Either I come in, or you call her out.” Fu Miao was firm.

“She’s had a long day and is already resting. Fu Miao, don’t make a scene.”

“Making a scene? You think this is making a scene? The fact that I’m standing here talking to you at all is me giving you face.”

Before Fu Juxing could reply, Lin Wanbai appeared. “Let her in.”

They went to the study and shut the door.

“You have to come to the afterparty tomorrow.”

“And what right do you have to order me around?”

“Kevin asked me why you wouldn’t come—if we’d had a falling out. He knows we’re childhood friends and relatives. If you don’t show, people will talk.”

“Not only will I not come, but I’ll also write out exactly how you plagiarized. As it happens, I know the young designer you copied from. In fact, we’re so alike it’s uncanny—even our taste is similar. You thought her design was special, didn’t you? So you stole her ideas and passed them off as your own?”

Fu Miao pressed her lips together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here about the afterparty. And I warn you, don’t say anything reckless. Kevin told me—the show got rave reviews, top trending, sales are soaring. If you say the wrong thing now, I don’t know what I’ll do to you.”

Lin Wanbai looked at her, then yawned. “I’m going to bed.”

She walked to the door. “This is your last chance. Tomorrow, I want to see you apologize and credit the original designer. Or contact her, pay up, and publicly announce the work wasn’t solely yours. Otherwise, I don’t know how I’ll deal with you.”

Without waiting for a reply, she left.

Back in her room, she sat beside Fu Juxing, still fuming.

“What happened? Another fight?” he asked gently. “Whatever it is, we’re family now. If there’s a problem, talk it out. There’s no need to be enemies.”

Lin Wanbai rested her chin on his shoulder. “I don’t care about her. You all used to say we were alike, but we’re not. I’m not as calculating as she is.”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing—women’s business. I’ll handle it.”

He turned to her, cupped her chin, and kissed her.

…

Still, Lin Wanbai never got an apology from Fu Miao. No one noticed the plagiarism; online, people were praising Fu Miao’s designs. Lin Wanbai searched for any negative news but found none.

Kevin contacted her again, hoping she’d attend the afterparty and asking to see her article before it was published.

Lin Wanbai had considered mentioning the plagiarism, but in the end, she didn’t. She didn’t want to ruin everything. Her family had suffered enough blows in recent years—finally, today was a comeback. How could she bring disaster on herself now?