"Vogue China?" Mo Fei stared at Louis, trying to make sure he had not heard wrong.
Vogue China edition.
It was not just another celebrity gathering. It was the kind of event only the elite among elites could attend. Access was not bought, begged for, or casually arranged. One had to be specially invited.
Not just anyone could step into that room.
In fact, many celebrities spent most of their lives in the industry and still never received an invitation. The policy was extremely strict, and only top stars, influential names, and carefully selected figures were allowed to attend the gathering, which was held only once a year.
Chen Yu was surprised, but not entirely.
Somehow, it felt natural that Mo Fei would begin climbing from here. He was trending across every major platform, and fans had not stopped talking about him since the show.
Still, to gain access to Vogue China edition right after a comeback?
That was massive.
Chen Yu turned to look at Mo Fei, who still looked completely baffled.
"Yes," Louis said, still visibly shocked himself. "I don't know how, but it's true." He handed his phone to Mo Fei.
Mo Fei took it and read the message.
You have been cordially invited to this year's Vogue China edition…
He paused. Then slowly, he looked up.
This was real.
This was fucking real.
Chen Yu nudged him, pulling him back to reality. "Congratulations, Feifei," he said, smiling. "Be sure to look good while you're there."
Mo Fei smiled back at him, grateful and still slightly dazed.
"Well," Louis said, standing up, "I guess we have to get you ready. The gala is in two days. I'll have a stylist come over."
Mo Fei handed the phone back to him.
Louis took it and immediately began tapping on the screen.
"I'll schedule a ride for you as well. You won't be going too far on your own. Ugh, this is so sudden." His manager instincts had fully awakened.
Mo Fei, meanwhile, was giggling quietly with Chen Yu, trying and failing to hide his excitement.
"You need to be at your best," Louis continued. "The event will be packed with top-tier celebrities, designers, editors, investors, actors, directors, and people who can either open doors or quietly shut them in your face. Since you're not used to gatherings like this, it may be overwhelming at first, but you need to... "
Louis turned and paused.
Mo Fei and Chen Yu were both staring back at him.
Good. They were listening. Louis sighed in relief.
"You're not coming?" Mo Fei asked.
Louis shook his head.
"It's an exclusive invite. It will just be you."
Mo Fei's expression changed slightly.
Louis looked at him seriously. "Do your best not to embarrass me, mm?"
"When have I ever embarrassed you?" Mo Fei muttered.
Louis only stared at him.
This guy.
First, he had stunned the internet with a scandal. Then he had nearly vanished from the industry. Then he returned and closed Zhen's show beside Zhang Yichen, breaking the internet in one night.
And now Vogue China edition?
Mo Fei kept breaking past every limit Louis had mentally set for him, and Louis was no longer sure whether he should be happy or worried.
When he first took the job, he had expected to manage a grieving model. Someone fragile and withdrawn. He had even prepared himself to throw Mo Fei into therapy if necessary.
Instead, he had gotten the complete opposite.
Mo Fei was shameless, audacious, annoyingly resilient and certainly not a scared little wit.
He had stunned Louis by closing Zhen's show and displaying every reason the internet had once called him the Prince of the Runway.
Louis ran a hand through his hair.
It was not every day someone gained his respect.
Even less often did someone surprise him.
But for some reason, Louis found himself wanting to do more. If Mo Fei was willing to push past his limits, then why shouldn't he?
Even if every step forward with Mo Fei dragged Louis closer to needing therapy himself.
"Vogue China is not like the other events you've attended in the past," Louis said. "It could very well be the push you need to rebuild your career. You made an incredible comeback, yes, but the fans and the industry still doubt you. The scandal has not disappeared either."
His voice lowered slightly.
"So whatever you do, Mo Fei, tread carefully."
Mo Fei leaned back against the couch.
What was wrong with Louis?
It was not as if he did not know his reputation was still hanging by a thread. Why remind him?
Grumpy-ass manager.
Two days later, a black BMW pulled up inside the apartment garage.
Mo Fei was already dressed.
His hair had been styled to perfection by the stylist Louis had sent over earlier, each strand carefully arranged but still natural enough not to look forced. His outfit fitted him cleanly, elegant without being too loud or making him look desperate to impress.
Before this moment, however, the news of Mo Fei's invitation to the Vogue China edition gala had not sat quietly with the industry.
Half of the public argued that he was not qualified to attend. To them, the scandal still hanging over his head was enough reason for Vogue China to shut its doors against him.
If someone like Mo Fei could be invited, they said, did that not mean the event had lowered its standards?
The other half fought back fiercely.
They argued that the invitation was well deserved. The media needed to move on from the past and let Mo Fei live. Nothing had been proven, and one scandal built on rumours was not enough to destroy a man completely.
Mo Fei's new fans, especially, had been brutal.
Anyone who said something trashy about him was immediately dragged through the mud, washed, dried, and dragged again.
To Mo Fei's surprise, his fans were truly taking his side.
If worse came to worst, they looked like they would tear down the world for him.
Let him live.
He was the Prince of the Runway.
One unproven scandal was not fit to tarnish his image forever.
Louis, of course, had warned him to stay away from the internet controversy and focus only on the important matter at hand.
Go to the gala. Survive it in one piece.
That was the mission.
Louis parked the car, stepped out, and walked around to open the door for Mo Fei, who was still adjusting his tie.
The moment Louis saw him properly, he scoffed.
"You look responsible."
Mo Fei smiled sheepishly, then clicked his tongue. "Just say it. I'm the most dashing man you've ever seen."
Louis wanted to smack the back of his head.
Unfortunately, doing so might ruin the carefully styled hair, and they did not have time for repairs.
"Whatever," Louis said, resigning himself to fate.
Mo Fei's grin widened.
"Get in the car so I can drop you off," Louis said, motioning toward the back seat.
Mo Fei got in.
Louis shut the door behind him, then returned to the driver's seat and drove off.
The Vogue China edition party was held in one of the grandest hotels in China.
The entire building glittered beneath the night sky, its glass walls reflecting camera flashes and luxury cars like fragments of light.
The entrance had been transformed into a long red carpet bordered by velvet ropes, golden lighting, floral arrangements, and giant Vogue China displays that made it clear this was not simply a party.
It was an industry battlefield dressed in diamonds.
Photographers lined both sides of the carpet, cameras ready, fingers waiting over shutters. Reporters held microphones. Assistants whispered into headsets. Security staff stood in black suits, watching every movement.
Fans gathered behind the barriers, holding signs, flowers, banners, and glowing boards with the names of their favourite stars.
Every arrival sent a fresh wave of screams through the crowd.
"Miss Mei, over here!"
"Ahhh, did no one tell me Celebrity Cha was coming?"
"No way, is that Emma? She never disappoints with her outfits!"
"Look here! Look this way!"
"Miss Lan, give us one more pose!"
Online, the internet was already in chaos.
Fans, blogs, entertainment accounts, and fashion pages tore through every second of the live stream. Each comment section flooded with screams, emojis, edits, and predictions. Everyone was waiting for their favourite bias to appear.
The Vogue China edition gala was an event people looked forward to every year.
It was where celebrities proved influence.
Where brands measured relevance, rumours were born, one good photo could revive a career, and one bad angle could become a meme before midnight.
Each time a celebrity appeared on the red carpet, the cameras clicked faster than the speed of light. Fans from different corners of the world threw in their support, admiration, jealousy, and emotional instability.
Then a white Lamborghini pulled up at the red carpet.
The crowd shifted immediately.
A chauffeur stepped forward and opened the door.
Su Feiyu stepped out.
She wore a long red gown with no straps, the fabric hugging her athletic frame beautifully. The colour made her skin glow under the lights, bold but elegant, striking without looking vulgar. Her hair was styled with delicate accessories that caught the camera flashes as she moved.
She looked beautiful.
The lights captured her face, and Su Feiyu smiled gently as she waved toward the fans standing nearby.
The cameras flashed again.
Fans holding signs with her name screamed louder.
"Feiyu!"
"Su Feiyu, look here!"
"Queen!"
"You look so beautiful!"
"She's glowing!"
"She never misses!"
Su Feiyu smiled toward them, giving the cameras exactly what they wanted. A soft turn of her head, slight lift of her chin, graceful waves and a smile gentle enough to be adored.
Then the driver's side door opened and Zhang Yichen stepped out.
He walked to Su Feiyu's side with effortless elegance, a small smile resting on his face.
He wore a black suit, sharp and perfectly tailored, the kind of outfit that looked simple only because the man wearing it made everything else unnecessary.
The moment the crowd saw him, the noise exploded.
If there was one person who mattered at this kind of occasion, it was Zhang Yichen.
The icy prince of the industry.
The bias of stars, directors, editors, producers, wealthy elites, and fans.
A celebrity actor and model standing at the very top of the industry.
And now, he stood beside Su Feiyu, the beloved female star of the fashion world.
The two of them arriving together was enough to feed the internet gossip for days.
Together, they walked onto the red carpet. Su Feiyu gently held Zhang Yichen's hand as they posed for the cameras. The flashes became almost blinding.
"Miss Feiyu, here! Here!"
"Yichen, give us a smile!"
"Yichen, look this way!"
"Feiyu, turn a little!"
"Are the rumours true?"
"Omg they came together?"
"You look perfect together!"
"Yichen came with Su Feiyu! Are they confirming something?"
"They look like a match made in heaven!"
"The industry's prince and goddess!"
"Please, one more pose!"
Su Feiyu's smile remained perfect.
She gave the cameras the softness they adored, the elegance they expected, and the warmth they would praise online later.
Yichen stood calmly beside her, his expression composed, gaze steady, every movement measured.
When they were finally done, Su Feiyu blew a kiss toward the fans, laughing pleasantly as she and Yichen walked off the red carpet.
Another car pulled up just as they left. The door opened and Mo Fei stepped out.
For a second, the atmosphere shifted.
Heads turned in his direction.
Then the cameras flashed again.
Mo Fei being present at the Vogue China edition gala was still a shock to many people. Whether they supported him or hated him, his invitation remained a hot topic.
And because of that, every photographer wanted the perfect angle.
Every blog wanted the perfect shot.
Every gossip account wanted proof that he was either rising or about to embarrass himself.
Mo Fei stood beside the car and calmly adjusted his cuff, then he looked toward the red carpet.
This is just another runway.
Ignore the stares.
He stepped forward.
The cameras erupted.
Flash after flash burst around him, capturing every movement as he walked onto the carpet. Some of his fans had come to support him, and the moment they saw him clearly, they began waving and calling his name.
"Mo Fei!"
"Over here Mo Fei"
"Look here!"
"Prince of the Runway!"
"You look amazing!"
"Mo Fei, we love you!"
"Welcome back!"
"Don't mind the haters!"
"You're so handsome!"
"Mo Fei, give us one smile!"
He turned toward them and bowed politely, a calm smile on his face.
For some reason, he was not paranoid about this first major public appearance after his comeback.
He was calm.
Almost like he was used to this, like the red carpet had been waiting for him too.
The photographers shouted from both sides.
"Mo Fei, this way!"
"Look here!"
"Give us another pose!"
"Mo Fei, turn slightly!"
"Perfect!"
"Beautiful!"
"Mo Fei, your outfit is incredible!"
"Show us the side profile!"
"Mo Fei, one more!"
Mo Fei smiled as he posed, each movement controlled and precise.
Inside, however,
You all better capture my good sides. I did not sit under torturous light for hours just for you people to mess up my angles.
The fans' praise was getting to his head.
A handsome drink of water such as himself?
Of course they were going to eat this up. He turned slightly, letting the cameras catch the full line of his outfit. Then he shifted his gaze, gave a faint smile, and allowed the flashes to follow him.
The reporters called out questions, but he did not answer.
Not yet.
Louis had warned him.
Smile. Pose. Survive.
So he did exactly that.
After he finished, Mo Fei walked off the red carpet with composed ease.
All the while, one person had been watching him.
Zhang Yichen.
He stood off to the side with Su Feiyu, who was talking to him about something. But Yichen was not really listening.
From the moment Mo Fei stepped onto the red carpet, his gaze had followed him.
Mo Fei had been invited.
Yichen was not surprised Closing Zhen's show with him had been enough to boost Mo Fei's reputation, and now Mo Fei was thriving from it.
Another leech enjoying his good grace.
If Mo Fei was wise, he would not waste the opportunity Yichen had given him.
Beside him, Su Feiyu continued speaking. "Don't you think it's different and…"
Her voice finally drew him back.
Yichen glanced down at her with a soft smile.
"Yes," he said smoothly. "It's really nice."
Su Feiyu nudged him gently and laughed.
"Don't be so modest, Yichen."
Yichen smiled again.
But his gaze moved briefly toward the entrance where Mo Fei had disappeared.
He did not need another person leeching off his fame.