They were sitting rather close.
Ye Zhiqiu could catch the faint scent of cologne emanating from Qin Jianhe.
It was an extremely light woody base note, lingering intermittently—quite warm on this cold winter night.
Ye Zhiqiu leaned back slightly and instinctively touched his own ear.
Beneath his dark hair, his small and delicate earlobe was translucent and smooth, its lines elegant.
“I’m not actually mad,” Ye Zhiqiu said, looking down as he pulled the seatbelt across and clicked it in. “President Qin really doesn’t need to placate me.”
He suddenly smiled as he spoke, glancing sideways at Qin Jianhe, his tone carrying both teasing and surprise.
“I didn’t expect President Qin to know how to soothe people.”
“Mm.” Qin Jianhe reached over and smoothed down a few strands of hair at the back of his head that were sticking up, pressing them gently.
“But that’s about all I can do,” he said. “For the rest, I’ll have to rely on Professor Ye.”
Ye Zhiqiu laughed.
He’d only been joking around that day, caught up in the moment.
Truth be told, someone like Qin Jianhe would never have relationship troubles.
If he wanted, countless people would line up.
All he had to do was sit back and let it happen.
The guy was just being mischievous, teasing him.
Ye Zhiqiu didn’t call him out on it. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it.
“Sure. But it depends on your performance.”
“What kind of performance qualifies as passing in Professor Ye’s book?” Qin Jianhe asked.
“At the very least, don’t deliberately provoke me like you just did.” Ye Zhiqiu said.
“Weren’t you just saying you weren’t mad?” Qin Jianhe chuckled. “Need more coaxing?”
“Stop.” Ye Zhiqiu laughed as he scrolled through his phone. After a moment, he added, “But I really wasn’t mad. You didn’t say anything wrong. I am unpopular at home.”
His tone was very casual, completely unconcerned.
Qin Jianhe glanced at him.
Ye Zhiqiu started typing on his phone, his expression calm and indifferent.
“Then you and I are a bit alike,” Qin Jianhe said, starting the car.
“When my dad hit me,” Ye Zhiqiu put his phone down and looked at Qin Jianhe, “I did think of your dad in that hospital room.”
“But you and I are still different,” he added. “At least you have your mom, your grandparents. At least there are people who love you.”
Though neither family was exactly harmonious, there was a fundamental difference between him and Qin Jianhe.
After the divorce, Qin Jianhe chose to live with his mother. Strictly speaking, he’d grown up in his maternal grandparents’ home.
So no matter how weak the father-son bond with Qin Xusheng, no matter how much Qin Xusheng favored the younger son, or how much the stepmother and half-brother saw him as a thorn…
It didn’t change the fact that he had grandparents and a mother who loved him.
At least he could grow up with their normal upbringing.
Unlike him.
As an infant, a blank slate, he’d been handed over to Tao Ruoqing by Ye Hongxian.
So his worldview, his thinking, the first seeds in his mind and heart—all came from Tao Ruoqing.
Every stroke on that blank canvas was painted by Tao Ruoqing’s hand.
Tao Ruoqing selectively blocked certain information, setting him on a path of no return from the moment he learned to walk.
He ran wildly down that path, and the person he trusted most always encouraged him gently, telling him he was right, urging him to run faster…
He never had a chance to break free from those deliberately imposed mental shackles, ingrained since infancy.
Like a puppet, following someone else’s commands through his pathetic, ridiculous life.
Ye Zhiqiu wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was smarter than most.
Yet it still took ten years of grinding in his past life to finally earn this rebirth.
So today, at this moment, he had the chance to sit in Qin Jianhe’s car and talk like this.
* * * *
The car was quiet for a moment.
“And you?” Qin Jianhe asked. “No one loves you?”
Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu smiled noncommittally.
“It’s okay.” Qin Jianhe, sharp as ever, spoke with understanding despite his still-calm tone. “Even if no one loves you yet, you’ll definitely meet someone who loves you very, very much in the future.”
The faint woody scent lingered in the car.
That’s how base notes are—very light, unaggressive, yet somehow you can’t help but like them, feel safe.
The air was still for a moment.
Only mottled streetlights flashed by rapidly, punctuated by occasional navigation prompts.
“Have you met Professor Zhang before?” Ye Zhiqiu asked.
“Mm. More when I was younger.” Qin Jianhe said. “After starting work, we’re all busy, so naturally less. But my mother and them still get together once a year.”
Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu’s eyes lit up.
“You’re lucky.”
“Lucky how?” Qin Jianhe asked.
“To witness the friendship between two titans of fashion.” Ye Zhiqiu said. “And one of them is your mother.”
At this, he seemed to remember something and smiled faintly.
“You know what?” he said, unusually talkative tonight. “Actually, when I was a baby, the clothes and bibs I wore… my mother made them all herself.”
He added, almost imperceptibly, “From what I’ve heard.”
Ye Zhiqiu shook his head, not continuing.
“Sometimes I can’t help thinking.” Ye Zhiqiu was still smiling. “If my mom hadn’t gotten married right after graduation, if she’d entered her chosen field like most people and made her mark, would she have had a chance to become a renowned designer like President Nie?”
Not having to care about anyone else’s opinion. Having her own independent world and foundation…
Would everything have been different?
He would have had his mother’s guidance and company, lived an ordinary, perfectly ordinary life.
But he would have been happy.
“She would have.” Qin Jianhe said. “But with your exceptional talent, I’m sure any regret she might have had has long been compensated.”
Ye Zhiqiu said nothing more.
He turned to look out the window.
The streetlights filtering in flickered on and off, falling on his injured cheek like some painter’s careless brushstroke, leaving a messy, obscure scrawl.
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but where his lashes covered the darkness, a barely perceptible trace of moisture glistened.
What Qin Jianhe just said—whether about him or about Lan Hua…
Was probably the most comforting words either of them had heard in years.
He’d never blamed himself for Lan Yue’s death.
He knew clearly that back then, he was still an infant, unable to do or decide anything.
But that didn’t stop him from occasionally wondering: if…
If he’d never been born, would Lan Yue have had a completely different life and ending?
It was a fantasy, a regret—something that never truly existed, so there was no way to make up for it.
But at this moment, he suddenly felt that none of it mattered anymore.
Maybe, as Qin Jianhe said, Lan Yue had never felt regret. The one who regretted was only himself.
* * * *
The car drove on until it entered a newer residential area near the Academy of Fine Arts, stopping in front of the middle high-rise.
“We’re here.” Qin Jianhe said, releasing his seatbelt.
He got out to retrieve the gifts for the Zhangs from the trunk.
Ye Zhiqiu quickly checked his appearance again and picked up the gift box at his feet.
“Don’t be nervous.” In the elevator, Qin Jianhe glanced at Ye Zhiqiu. “Professor and Mrs. Zhang are both very easygoing.”
“Okay.” Ye Zhiqiu nodded.
The Academy of Fine Arts wasn’t far from the Fashion Institute. This neighborhood was right between the two schools.
“This neighborhood is newly built, right?” Ye Zhiqiu thought for a moment. “I think I saw it when passing by with Shaojun.”
“Mm.” Qin Jianhe nodded. “The Zhangs gave their old place to their daughter. They bought a smaller unit here for retirement.”
Ye Zhiqiu nodded, saying nothing.
The elevator stopped on the seventh floor.
Qin Jianhe in front, Ye Zhiqiu behind.
They reached door 701, and Qin Jianhe rang the bell.
The door opened quickly.
And the one answering was Zhang Wenyuan himself.
“Xiaoyu’s here.” He smiled.
Though in his sixties, Zhang Wenyuan still stood straight as a bamboo.
“Aunt Wen’s been mentioning you all day. If you’d been any later, she’d have made me call to rush you.”
Hearing this, Qin Jianhe smiled faintly and looked at Ye Zhiqiu beside him.
“Uncle Zhang.” He pulled Ye Zhiqiu closer. “This is Xiao Ye, Ye Zhiqiu. My mother mentioned him before.”
“Come in, come in.” Zhang Wenyuan had a scholarly air, much like Lan Hua. The moment Ye Zhiqiu saw him, his slight nervousness vanished.
“Hello, Professor Zhang.” He smiled, his eyes curving.
“Old Zhang, is that Xiaoyu?” A gentle female voice came from inside.
“Aunt Wen, it’s me.” Qin Jianhe took Ye Zhiqiu’s wrist and led him inside with Zhang Wenyuan.
“Sit down, sit down.” Wen Yuan greeted Qin Jianhe first, then looked at Ye Zhiqiu with a smile. “How did you hurt your face, child? Have you put anything on it?”
“My family applied ice and then liniment last night.” Ye Zhiqiu said obediently.
Wen Yuan went inside and soon returned with a first-aid kit.
“Last night was last night. You need to put more on today.” She said gently. “Otherwise, when will it heal? Such a beautiful child, it would be a shame if it scarred.”
“I’ll do it, Auntie.” Qin Jianhe stood and took the kit.
“I’ve got a couple more dishes to finish. You chat with Old Zhang.” Wen Yuan called back as she headed to the kitchen. “Xiaoyu, be gentle with the medicine. Don’t hurt him.”
“Okay.” Qin Jianhe replied.
“Put the medicine on first.” Zhang Wenyuan said. “I’ll grab some introductory books from the study.”
The couple left, leaving only Qin Jianhe and Ye Zhiqiu in the living room.
Qin Jianhe opened the kit, found a small jar, and unscrewed it.
“President Qin.” Ye Zhiqiu whispered, his eyes bright. “You think Professor Zhang is satisfied with me? He said he’s getting introductory books—could he be planning to give them to me?”
“We’ve barely spoken two words. Satisfied with the injury on your face?” Qin Jianhe didn’t even look up, dipping a cotton swab in ointment.
Ye Zhiqiu: “…”
“Is that any way to talk?” Ye Zhiqiu protested.
“Maybe he’s too polite to outright reject you.” Qin Jianhe struck again. “So he’s grabbing some old books he doesn’t need as a consolation prize.”
He didn’t let Ye Zhiqiu respond.
Finished speaking, he reached up, tilted Ye Zhiqiu’s chin, and looked down, carefully applying the medicine.
Qin Jianhe’s eyelashes were long, dark, and thick.
They cast shadows, hiding the emotion in his eyes, his lips pressed in a straight line.
Ye Zhiqiu couldn’t speak. Furious, he pushed against Qin Jianhe’s chest.
The next moment, those tightly pressed lips lifted almost imperceptibly.
“Done.” Qin Jianhe finished, recapped the ointment, and put it back in the kit. Then he looked up. “Does it hurt?”
Ye Zhiqiu shook his head.
Qin Jianhe’s touch had been feather-light. It didn’t hurt.
* * * *
The study door opened again.
Zhang Wenyuan emerged with a stack of books.
He handed them to Ye Zhiqiu.
“Look through these first. If you’re still interested after reading them, we can discuss more advanced topics.”
Ye Zhiqiu nodded, taking the books and examining them.
One was “Foundations of Handmade Leathercraft,” one was “Foundations of Hand-Carved Leather Art,” another was “Complete Guide to Leathercraft Techniques,” and a whole set of “Leather Craft.”
He’d already read “Foundations of Handmade Leathercraft” and “Complete Guide to Leathercraft Techniques.”
But he didn’t mention that yet, just smiled and packed them all into his backpack.
“Thank you, Professor.” He smiled obediently.
“I know you’re excelling in your major.” Zhang Wenyuan said. “But why the sudden interest in leather art?”
“Because I like it.” Ye Zhiqiu smiled, his expression very serious. “Professor Zhang, my interest and love for design aren’t limited to just fashion. Learning leather isn’t a whim.”
“I’m serious,” he said.
“Qin Yu.” Zhang Wenyuan laughed. “The young friend you brought has quite the nerve.”
“His nerve isn’t the issue.” A faint smile lingered in Qin Jianhe’s eyes. “He actually has the ability.”
“Uncle Zhang.” Meeting Zhang Wenyuan’s slightly questioning gaze, Qin Jianhe chuckled. “His skill in fashion might not be inferior to my mother’s.”
“Oh?” Zhang Wenyuan’s expression grew serious.
Not just him—even Ye Zhiqiu was extremely surprised.
This was the first time Qin Jianhe had evaluated his work. He hadn’t expected it to be this high.
He turned to look at the man beside him and met Qin Jianhe’s smiling eyes.
Those phoenix eyes, usually dark and majestic, when filled with laughter, were also certain and gentle.
In that moment, Ye Zhiqiu knew he meant it. He truly thought so.
Everyone likes being affirmed and appreciated. Ye Zhiqiu was no exception. His heart suddenly relaxed, inexplicably lighter.
“Your mother said the same?” Zhang Wenyuan asked.
That was Nie Fengjun.
The Nie Fengjun who, with her own talent and effort, had built Q.L. into what it was today.
“Mm.” Qin Jianhe nodded. “My mother has seen his work.”
Hearing this, Zhang Wenyuan pondered for a moment.
“Professor Zhang, I know you’re worried I might not be able to balance the coursework.” Ye Zhiqiu smiled and said something startling. “But actually, I’ve already completed my undergraduate major requirements through self-study.”
“How old are you…”
“I’m a sophomore.” Ye Zhiqiu smiled.
Zhang Wenyuan nodded, his eyes revealing undisguised appreciation.
The fashion design curriculum emphasized practical work. It was much more demanding and complex than most other majors.
If he’d already self-studied the entire program by sophomore year…
Then this kid’s self-discipline, and the standards he held himself to, were both quite formidable.
“Uncle Zhang.” Qin Jianhe pressed his advantage. “Just take him on. If it doesn’t work out, you can always kick him out later.”
Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu kicked him under the table.
Qin Jianhe’s face remained expressionless, but one hand moved without showing any change in expression under the table and grabbed his still-restless leg.
That hand was strong. Ye Zhiqiu was instantly pinned.
“Guess I really need to start training.” Sensing his struggle, Qin Jianhe chuckled very quietly, leaning close to murmur.
Ye Zhiqiu: “…”
“Even your mother evaluates him so highly.” Zhang Wenyuan, completely oblivious to their little movements, thought for a moment and laughed. “If I didn’t take him, it would be my loss.”
Hearing this, Ye Zhiqiu immediately sat up straight.
His eyes widened nervously, fixed on him.
That earnestness, that eagerness—couldn’t be faked.
“Alright, Xiao Ye.” Zhang Wenyuan said. “Before Spring Festival, first thoroughly master the books I gave you today. If you have questions, ask me—online or in person. As long as you can understand.”
“Okay.” Ye Zhiqiu nodded.
“After Spring Festival, I’ll design a curriculum for you. We’ll aim for two lessons a week, if possible. Sound good?”
“Mm.” Suppressing the blooming joy in his heart, Ye Zhiqiu nodded obediently. “Whatever you think best, Professor.”
* * * *
“Here we are.” Wen Yuan emerged from the kitchen carrying soup. “Business done? Let’s eat.”
She deliberately looked at Ye Zhiqiu.
“Xiao Ye, first time here. Don’t be shy.”
“Thank you, Auntie.” Ye Zhiqiu said sweetly.
The moment he spoke, Qin Jianhe kicked him under the table.
“Still calling her Auntie?” he said.
“Thank you, Professor’s Wife.” Ye Zhiqiu quickly corrected himself.
Their back-and-forth made the Zhangs laugh.
“You wouldn’t believe it.” Wen Yuan smiled at Ye Zhiqiu. “Xiaoyu’s always been cold-tempered since he was little. This is the first time I’ve seen him so playful.”
“Auntie.” Qin Jianhe stood, interrupting her. “Let me help you with the bowls.”
* * * *
During dinner, Ye Zhiqiu’s phone kept vibrating in his pocket.
But only after they’d finished and he and Qin Jianhe had taken their leave did he unlock it.
Countless messages and missed calls filled the screen.
Sun Wei. Luo Wangzhou. Other colleagues. Jin Baobao and Li Shaojun. Even Qi Xin…
Even without opening the messages, Ye Zhiqiu knew—Jinqi must have launched their attack on VIA.
Sure enough, when he opened Weibo, Jinqi had bought more than one trending topic.
“VIA’s Decline.” “Jinqi Giveaway Event.” “Jinqi: First Come, First Served”…
Netizens were discussing it heatedly.
The news of VIA’s new products appearing alongside Jinqi’s giveaway items spread like wildfire.
Some particularly vicious netizens were mocking VIA mercilessly.
Before Ye Zhiqiu could scroll much, his phone rang again.
Luo Wangzhou.
“Senior.” He sat in the car, answering while buckling his seatbelt. “I just saw the trending searches and Jinqi’s official announcement.”
“How did this happen?” Luo Wangzhou asked, his tone slightly displeased but not severe. “Did you foresee this happening? Is that why you deliberately asked Professor Li to contact me?”
“No.” Ye Zhiqiu said, unruffled. “If I’d known it was a trap, why would I walk into it?”
His logic was sound. Luo Wangzhou was silent for a moment.
“Right now, my boss’s thinking is: we can still cooperate, but the terms will tilt further in our favor.” He sounded a bit troubled. “Can you convince Sun Wei?”
“Depends how much further.” Ye Zhiqiu’s tone was calm and unreadable. “VIA has been on a downward trajectory. This cooperation is crucial for the whole team. I’m sure Meilan understands that. As long as the terms are reasonable, I believe VIA can accept them. But if your terms are designed to drive VIA into a corner, I’ll withdraw my designs.”
“Nothing that extreme.” Luo Wangzhou said. “It’s just that VIA might end up working for nothing. Meilan wants to split the profits 90-10 in our favor.”
From 60-40 to 90-10…
Ye Zhiqiu laughed.
He and Sun Wei had already considered this possibility.
And at the same time, this was already their bottom line.
Meilan had calculated it precisely.
But Sun Wei would accept these terms.
After the event, clothes could still be sold. New products could still launch. Ye Zhiqiu had over a dozen designs not yet patterned. These were the capital for turning things around.
What VIA needed was the public opinion support that partnering with Meilan would bring.
“Fine.” He said after a moment.
Luo Wangzhou sighed in relief on the other end.
“How did such a ridiculous thing happen? Jinqi has no integrity at all.”
“Yeah.” Ye Zhiqiu smiled. “Senior, when choosing cooperation partners in the future, remember to avoid them.”
“Junior, don’t blame me for this.” Luo Wangzhou sighed finally. “My hands are tied.”
“I understand.” Ye Zhiqiu said. “I’ll treat you to a meal sometime.”
* * * *
He hung up and was about to dial Sun Wei.
But Qin Jianhe interrupted.
“Home or the office?” he asked.
Ye Zhiqui thought briefly, then decided.
“Home.”
“You lied to them, didn’t you?” Qin Jianhe said.
“Hm?” Ye Zhiqiu was momentarily confused, not following.
“Jinqi’s current move. You knew about it all along.” Qin Jianhe said. “Bringing in Meilan was a two-pronged strategy—to both prop up VIA and hurt Jinqi.”
“Why?” he asked.
Ye Zhiqiu: “…”
He was silent for a moment.
“I have my reasons.”
Qin Jianhe laughed.
“I don’t see how this benefits you at all.” He said. “If it was about VIA, the simplest choice would have been not to cooperate with Jinqi in the first place.”
“Without cooperation with Jinqi, without yesterday’s stream.” Ye Zhiqiu’s tone was calm. “Meilan might not have agreed to cooperate with VIA.”
“So you’re saying your designs are worth less than a single stream?” Qin Jianhe asked.
Ye Zhiqiu looked down, momentarily silent.
“Ye Zhiqiu.” Qin Jianhe’s voice turned cold again. “You shouldn’t undervalue yourself like this. And you definitely shouldn’t put yourself in such a dangerous position, gambling with your career.”
“What dangerous position?” Ye Zhiqiu raised an eyebrow, looking back at him calmly.
“Not everyone is smart enough to always choose the perfect path.” Qin Jianhe looked at him, his gaze deep. “If Meilan backed out because of the negative impact from Jinqi’s unethical behavior, your reputation in fashion would be severely compromised. The people who care about you would be upset and disappointed on your behalf.”
“For example?” Ye Zhiqiu laughed. “Who cares about me?”
Other than Jin Baobao, Li Shaojun, and his uncle, no one really cared about him.
And those few didn’t understand the fashion world. A little smooth talk and they’d be fine.
As for anyone else, he couldn’t care less.
“For example, Meng Da.” Qin Jianhe’s voice softened slightly. “During yesterday’s stream, he meticulously compiled all the designs you created. After work this afternoon, without even stopping for lunch, he rushed to show them to me.”
“So if my reputation takes a hit because of this.” Ye Zhiqiu’s lips curved coolly. “Q.L. and Teacher Meng will naturally abandon me. Won’t they?”
The air in the car went completely still.
He’d calculated every step thousands of times. There would be no mistakes.
Even so, in this moment, Ye Zhiqiu’s heart slowly turned cold.
“Forget it.” Ye Zhiqiu said.
This had nothing to do with Qin Jianhe. And he didn’t actually care about Qin Jianhe’s opinion.
He pushed the door, about to get out, when Qin Jianhe grabbed his wrist.
“No.” Though he’d never formally invited Ye Zhiqiu, this word was spoken with absolute certainty.
“Meng Da. Q.L. And me.” Qin Jianhe looked at him steadily. “We won’t abandon you.”
If You Notice any translation issues or inconsistency in names, genders, or POV etc? Let us know here in the comments or on our Discord server, and we’ll fix it in current and future chapters. Thanks for helping us to improve! 🙂