The day of the fashion show finally arrived.
Inside Zhen Fashion House, backstage was alive with chaos.
Models, stylists, makeup artists, designers, , and stage coordinators moved in every direction. People called out instructions. Someone shouted for missing shoes. Another yelled about misplaced accessories. The hiss of hairspray mixed with the clicking of heels, the rustling of fabric, and the sharp urgency of voices overlapping from every corner.
It was loud, frantic and perfect.
After all, what was showbiz without noise, panic, and scattered preparations dressed up as glamour?
Mo Fei walked in.
Almost immediately, heads turned and the Whispers followed.
"What's he doing here?"
"I heard he's one of the extras."
"Is he seriously trying to climb the ranks again? Isn't that pathetic?"
"Let's see how he does tonight."
Mo Fei heard them. Of course he did. But he did not stop walking.
Then, as if the room had shifted its attention by instinct, the buzz changed.
A woman walked toward him.
Su Feiyu.
She had a warm smile on her face, graceful and effortless, as though the chaos around her had politely decided not to touch her.
"Su Feiyu…"
"Goodness, look how graceful she is."
"She's opening the show. She looks radiant."
Su Feiyu stopped in front of Mo Fei.
"Mo Fei," she said gently, "you've become harder to see these days."
Mo Fei looked at her and he knew her.
Su Feiyu was an S-list model, a superstar, and one of the most popular celebrities in Asia and beyond. She was gentle, elegant, and possessed the kind of calm beauty that made people want to like her before she even spoke.
Millions adored her.
Before Mo Fei had died and woken up in this body, he had been scheduled to appear as one of her extras in a shoot. At the time, he had believed it would be his chance to rise.
Unfortunately, it had never happened.
Mo Fei bowed politely. "Miss Feiyu."
Su Feiyu's smile deepened. "Work hard," she said. Then she walked away to prepare.
Mo Fei turned toward Louis.
Louis only shook his head slightly. Even he did not know why Su Feiyu had approached him.
"Let's go," Louis said.
Together, they headed toward the dressing room assigned to Mo Fei.
Thirty minutes later, the chaos backstage had reduced slightly. The models were fully dressed now, waiting for their turns. Stylists made final adjustments. Makeup artists gave last-minute touch-ups. Assistants whispered into headsets. The show was about to begin.
Outside, the runway hall was already full.
Editors, directors, wealthy guests, top actors, actresses, brand executives, and industry elites sat in their seats, waiting to witness the spectacle. Whenever Zhen hosted a fashion show, it was guaranteed to break the internet.
Photographers stood ready, cameras lifted.
Across the world, fans streamed the show live, watching and waiting for one of fashion's biggest designers to dazzle them again.
Then the lights dimmed.
Music began.
One by one, the opening models stepped out.
The audience applauded as each model walked, watching with keen interest. Cameras clicked from every direction. Editors took notes. Designers exchanged quiet comments.
Look after look. Design after design.
Beauty. Luxury. Power.
And then…..
Su Feiyu appeared.
The moment she stepped onto the runway, the crowd erupted.
Cameras clicked faster. Guests leaned forward. The entire hall seemed to sharpen its focus at once because now, the main event had truly begun.
Su Feiyu was not just a model.
She was a superstar model. She knew how to capture an audience. And opening for Zhen was the kind of thing that could throw the internet into chaos for weeks.
She smiled as the applause rose before she even began walking.
Then she moved.
Every step was elegant. Every turn, controlled. Her angle seemed designed for the cameras. Flashes burst around her, trying to capture every perfect second.
She performed flawlessly.
Of course she did.
This was her world. Her kingdom and she owned it.
Su Feiyu smiled. Tonight, she was stealing the show.
And with it, another boost to her reputation.
Editors seated near the runway nodded approvingly.
A good and strong opening.
As she reached the end of the runway, her gaze briefly found the VIP section. The top guests seated there gave her subtle smiles, watching with interest.
Once again, Su Feiyu had taken the stage and made it hers. She turned and walked back, ending her walk.
Even after her exit, the crowd continued applauding.
"Did you see that?"
"I swear she glows every time."
"She owned that stage."
Online, comments and likes flew wildly. Headlines began forming before the show had even reached its peak. Su Feiyu had once again dazzled the internet.
On the runway, the audience was still murmuring among themselves when suddenly, the lights dimmed.
Everyone turned their attention back to the stage.
A figure stood there.
Zhang Yichen.
He wore a white suit that fitted him perfectly, sharp and flawless, as though it had been tailored not just to his body but to his entire existence.
One look at him was enough to throw the internet into another uproar.
"Zhang Yichen is closing the show?"
"It suits him. Who else but him?"
"Su Feiyu opens and Zhang Yichen closes? Someone fan me."
"I heard Mo Fei was performing. If Yichen is closing, does that mean Mo Fei got kicked out?"
"Maybe he got scared and quit."
"Will he keep running away? Such a coward."
The online buzz grew heavier. Fans tore through every live broadcast comment section, flooding it thousands of times over.
On the runway, Yichen stood perfectly still.
Sunglasses covered his eyes. His dark hair was slicked back, with a few strands falling loosely near his face. Calmly, he lifted one hand, took off the glasses, and slipped them into his pocket.
Then, with one hand in his trouser pocket, Zhang Yichen took his first step.
If the camera flashes for Su Feiyu had been ten times brighter than before, for Zhang Yichen they were a hundred times worse.
This was the icy prince of the industry. A rare treasure.
The beloved star of fashion.
A global name with enough influence to crash a gossip platform in hours.
One step.… Two.… Three.
Then, when he reached the middle of the runway, Yichen stopped. He lifted his gaze. Not toward the crowd.
Not exactly. His eyes moved past them.
Toward the entrance at the far end of the hall. The audience noticed immediately.
"Why did he stop?"
"Is this part of the show?"
"No… it seems like he's looking at something."
Slowly, people began turning their heads, following Yichen's gaze.
Someone was walking through the crowd.
One by one, heads turned. Mouths fell open.
Editors froze.
Even some photographers forgot to lift their cameras for a second, too stunned by the approaching figure.
Mo Fei.
He was dressed in black, the perfect opposite of Yichen's white suit.
He walked through the long middle aisle between the audience, moving toward the runway stage with calm, unbroken focus.
His gaze never left Yichen.
"Mo Fei?"
"He's… closing the show with Yichen?"
"Did no one know this?"
"How is this possible?"
Mo Fei did not break stride. He did not lose focus.
He reached the stage and climbed the stairs, still walking and with every step, he depicted the theme of the show perfectly.
Resurrection.
He was not simply walking a runway. He was rising.
Through the critics, the fall, the silence. Through the filthy comments the internet had thrown at him for months.
This was not just Zhen's theme. It was personal.
He, Mo Fei, was rising from the ashes once again.
He walked to where Yichen stood and stopped. Yichen's gaze lingered on him. For a moment, he said nothing.
Mo Fei.
There was something about this Mo Fei now. Something different and sharper. Something that refused to lower its head.
Then, together, they turned.
Black and white.
Ashes and ice.
A fallen prince and an untouchable king.
They walked toward the opposite side of the stage, moving in perfect contrast and impossible harmony, until they finally reached the end together.
The crowd went still.
One second... Two.… Three.
Then, one by one, people rose from their seats.
Applause erupted. A loud standing ovation filled the hall.
The two of them had killed the show.
[A/N: Well, not killed, but you get it.]
They had stunned the crowd. Cameras flashed faster, capturing every angle, every expression, every second.
"I've never seen anything like this."
"Two models closing the show? Zhen truly is the man he says he is."
"Mo Fei was beautiful during the walk."
"Did you see that? Even standing next to Yichen, he still shone."
Mo Fei smiled at the crowd.
Then he and Yichen bowed together.
Side by side, they turned and walked backstage, where everyone else was waiting.
And behind them, the internet had already begun to burn.