CHAPTER 25: CHAPTER 24: CUSTOM-MADE EXCLUSIVELY

(Extra Edition: With March upon us, it’s almost time to make a move. Therefore, I’ve decided to add more updates: over 30 collections on the day will add an update, over 10 comments will add an update, over 100 recommendations will add an update, and after receiving the first vote or reward, there will also be an additional update, which will take effect the next day. Starting from April and May, there will be 6000+ words every day, that’s it, I’m off to spit out some blood.)

What Su Ziceng didn’t expect was that there would come a day when she would have difficulties because of clothes. It was only a few days later that she learned that the invitation she had received was merely the beginning of the ball. The day after receiving the letter, the organizer of the Eve Ball sent over a list of more than twenty pages of instructions, accompanied by a catalogue of sponsors, which included jewelry, clothing, and bags—all of which were international leading brands that Su Ziceng often frequented.

Su Ziceng was no stranger to such manuals. Every spring and autumn, she would carry catalogues of designer brands, looking through the season’s trending fashions. Su Ziceng’s fondness for international brands had never ceased. Although Chang Chi always said behind her back that Su Ziceng had the ability to turn the miraculous into the decayed, making top brands look like street stall goods.

"Sponsor?" When Su Ziceng got the news, she was almost ecstatic, although she had always been dressed in designer brands, she had never enjoyed exclusive sponsorship treatment.

"To some extent, you could understand it that way," Sister Mu had temporarily closed "Admiration" to devote her entire effort to managing Su Ziceng’s "adult ball."

Su Ziceng felt somewhat apologetic about this, but Sister Mu simply said, "Don’t feel bad, it’s just a matter of balancing power among adults." Sister Mu described her relationship with Su Ziceng in simple terms, it was a straightforward employment relationship previously, and now it was similar to that between an advertiser and a model.

Because Su Ziceng was invited to the Eve Ball, "Admiration," which already had a good reputation in Mo City, also began to gain fame in Country Z.

A few days before the closure, many customers who rushed from all over the country were turned away at the door.

That being said, Su Ziceng still felt that Sister Mu was not a cold person; her temperament and the steel prosthetic leg she wore were both just a form of forced disguise.

As for the kind of sponsorship Sister Mu mentioned, it eventually became a sort of torture in disguise. Su Ziceng’s good impression of the Eve Ball quickly began to shatter.

In the nearly half a month of preparation that followed, she did not receive a single sponsorship call. Not one for hairstyles, clothing, or jewelry.

The girls attending the ball all had top-class family backgrounds and striking appearances, so naturally, the organizers of the Eve Ball assumed that once the participant list was handed over, the sponsors would seize the opportunity and make contact on their own.

The PRs of first-tier brands had a sense of smell sharper than that of hunting dogs; they could immediately pick out the girls who best matched their brand image from that list of twenty people. They were either noble, sexy, or innocent, for example, Wen Maixue was chosen by Dior because her temperament and cultivation were superior to others, fitting the brand’s "elegance" positioning.

However, Su Ziceng, the last contestant with a weak Eastern heritage and no trace of Western aura, gave people the impression that the organizers had made a borderline decision, adding a person at the last minute. Therefore, the rigorously styled top brands all unanimously forgot about Su Ziceng.

Su Ziceng without big-brand sponsorship was like a weed blooming in a flowerbed unvisited by bees, pitifully prompting her every day to burst into any clothing store, grab a dress, and hastily put it on.

"You cannot appear in an ordinary dress," the main venue of the Eve Ball was chosen to be in the Eve Hotel in Paris, the city of fashion. Even the waiters at the event would be dressed in tailored clothing to serve the guests. If Su Ziceng carelessly wore a regular dress, she would likely fail to make a name for herself and be certain to lose face.

"What should I do?" Su Ziceng thought of rushing back to the Su Family immediately, asking Su Qingzhang to gather a list of renowned designers to rush out a dress for her, then open the safe to drape all the precious jewelry around her neck. Only with that weighty sensation could she feel secure, only then could her heart, first hot then cold, settle down.

"What kind of dress do you want to wear?" Sister Mu seemed not to notice Su Ziceng’s restlessness as she opened a bottle of sweet-and-sour sparkling wine and handed Su Ziceng a glass, soothing the anxious young girl.

"I don’t know," Su Ziceng took the glass and sipped, then picked up a fashion magazine. The tall models and perfect makeup on the covers made her feel even more ashamed of herself, picturing the scene when she would stand cluelessly at the entrance of Eve Hotel, subjected to countless critical gazes, leaving her ridiculed on an international level.

"Ziceng, you lack confidence," Sister Mu noticed her nervously picking at the mole at the corner of her mouth with her fingers, a habitual action of Su Ziceng and a sign of her extreme lack of self-confidence.

"What confidence can I have," Su Ziceng almost roared, "Hang Yishao doesn’t like me, sponsors don’t like me, what do I have to be confident about?"

"You still have a healthy body, a young smile, and the desire to earnestly live life, aren’t these enough?" Unlike Su Ziceng’s agitation, Sister Mu’s face remained composed, but her fingers unconsciously touched her own prosthetic leg, the cold metallic sheen stabbing Su Ziceng’s eyes.

"I’m sorry, Sister Mu," feeling that her words had hurt Sister Mu, Su Ziceng weakly apologized. She rested her head on Sister Mu’s shoulder, nuzzling like a weak, prayerful cat, finding a comforting warmth in Sister Mu’s presence.

"Tell me, what kind of dress do you want," Sister Mu’s heart melted by her gesture, her slender fingers brushed through Su Ziceng’s hair as she murmured like a loving mother to a helpless child, "Pretend I am the fairy who can grant all of Cinderella’s wishes, tell me, your wish."

"The dress shouldn’t be too extravagant, nor too simple," hearing Sister Mu’s promise, Su Ziceng stopped to consider whether her wish could truly be granted, but emboldened by Sister Mu’s unprecedented tender tone, she daringly fantasized that scene.

"White is too plain, black is too mature, red is the color that suits you." Sister Mu had Su Ziceng stand in front of the dressing mirror, playfully gesturing with a wine glass in hand in front of her, as if casting a spell.

Eighteen-year-old Su Ziceng, after over a month of life as a sales assistant, her eyes were more spirited, her cute nose bridge, her skin wasn’t the fairest but it was clear and flawless. Her cheeks, tinted with the rose color of nervousness and helplessness, her long limbs and supple waist were notable, but her most outstanding feature was her smile, a smile that came from deep within her heart.

"Red?" Su Ziceng’s voice trembled, red used to be her favorite color. The strong vibrant red.

But after she cut her artery, letting those hidden reds within her spurt out recklessly, Su Ziceng developed a fear for red, "Really, red?"

"Of course, you also said once, your mother left you a unique red diamond ring," Sister Mu affirmed with utmost certainty, having seen the ring herself. With that Mussen "Red Love" ring, Su Ziceng didn’t need any special attire to draw everyone’s attention.

"You should know, red is an exceedingly passionate color, and the most quickly noticed by the human eye. It uses life to interpret for people its fervent feelings for the world."

As she spoke, Sister Mu knelt down on the ground, the steel prosthetic leg making a clanking noise when it hit the floor. Her face was contorted, not with pain, but with a wild expression as she held a sketching pencil in her hand.

The kneeling posture lasted for a full half-hour, and when Sister Mu rose again, beneath her hand was an elegantly undulating design sketch.

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