Beijing did not smell like rain and soil.
It smelled like ambition.
Exhaust fumes.
Fresh print ink.
Perfume layered over competition.
Tall buildings loomed over crowded streets. Billboards displayed polished faces and luxury brands. Cars moved faster here. People walked faster too.
No one had time to look back.
Unless you gave them a reason.
Liu Meilin stepped out of the car slowly.
Black fitted trousers.
Cream silk blouse.
Structured blazer.
Hair pinned neatly.
Minimal jewelry.
Not flashy.
Controlled.
Lu Jianfeng stepped out beside her, but he didn't walk ahead.
He walked half a step behind.
A silent message.
She leads here.
The building in front of them was draped in banners:
National Youth Fashion Entrepreneur Competition – 1996
Young designers and brand founders crowded the entrance.
Some wore exaggerated avant-garde pieces to attract attention.
Others clutched garment bags nervously.
Whispers started immediately.
"She's not from Beijing."
"That accent… rural?" "Is she a model or staff?"
Liu Meilin didn't react.
She walked inside like she belonged.
Registration Hall
Marble floors.
Long tables.
Stacks of forms.
Media photographers scanning for interesting faces.
A woman at the desk looked up lazily.
"Name."
Liu Meilin
The woman flipped through the file list.
Her brows lifted slightly.
"Independent entry?"
"Yes."
"No major sponsor?"
"Not yet."
That pause lasted half a second too long.
Behind Liu Meilin, two girls exchanged looks.
Independent entries rarely made finals.
The receptionist slid forward a badge.
Contestant 47.
Liu Meilin picked it up calmly.
Lu Jianfeng's eyes scanned the room.
Three cameras. Two plainclothes security from his team positioned near pillars. One unfamiliar man watching too closely near the far corner.
Noted.
As Liu Meilin turned
A voice cut through the noise.
"Well… this is unexpected."
The crowd subtly parted.
Miss Zhao.
Tall.
Elegant.
Dressed in pale blue tailored silk.
Pearl earrings catching the light.
She didn't need to introduce herself.
Her presence did it.
Liu Meilin's gaze met hers.
Miss Zhao's eyes slowly moved over Arielle.
Measured.
Assessing.
Almost amused.
"I heard a rumor," Miss Zhao said lightly, "that someone from a farming village registered this year."
A few quiet laughs echoed nearby.
Liu Meilin tilted her head slightly.
Rumors travel fast.
"They do," Miss Zhao agreed smoothly. Especially when they're unusual.
She stepped closer.
Close enough that only Liu Meilin could hear the next words.
"You know this competition is judged on more than sketches, right?"
Liu Meilin didn't look away.
I'm aware.
Sponsors matter.
Talent matters more.
Miss Zhao smiled faintly.
"In Beijing, those are rarely separated."
Silence stretched between them.
Then Liu Meilin answered calmly
"Then perhaps it's time that changes."
The air shifted.
The onlookers felt it.
This wasn't rural naivety.
This was confidence.
Miss Zhao's smile thinned almost imperceptibly.
"We'll see how long that confidence lasts."
She turned gracefully and walked away, cameras subtly turning toward her.
Lu Jianfeng stepped closer to Liu Meilin.
You handled that well.
"She wanted me defensive."
"You weren't."
Liu Meilin's eyes remained forward.
"She's backed by someone powerful."
Lu Jianfeng's voice lowered.
She is.
You confirmed it?
"Yes."
A muscle in her jaw tightened.
"Good."
Backstage Preparation Area
Contestants were assigned workspaces separated by thin partitions.
Liu Meilin laid out her fabric carefully.
Silk in muted ivory.
Deep charcoal lining.
Subtle crimson threading for internal seams invisible to the audience, symbolic to her.
She began sketching final adjustments.
Two contestants nearby whispered loudly enough to be heard.
"She's really serious."
"Independent entries get eliminated first round."
"Why waste the train ticket?
Jiang Yanyan ignored them.
She picked up her scissors.
The first cut into silk was precise.
Clean.
Controlled.
An hour later
A volunteer rushed into the room.
"There's been a minor scheduling adjustment.
Contestant 47, your design review has been moved earlier."
Earlier meant less preparation time.
Earlier meant judges fatigued and distracted.
Earlier meant disadvantage.
Lucian appeared at her side quietly.
"That wasn't random."
"I know."
"Do you want me to intervene?"
Liu Meilin paused.
If he intervened openly, it would confirm she had backing.
If she refused, she risked unfair timing.
She exhaled slowly.
"No."
His eyes sharpened.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
She picked up her finished garment.
"Let them underestimate the timing."
Judging Hall
Bright lights. Long table. Five judges. Sponsor representatives seated behind them.
Miss Zhao was scheduled third.
Liu Meilin?
First.
Deliberate.
The announcer called her name.
Liu Meilin stepped onto the stage.
The fabric hung over her arm.
The room was quieter than before.
Some curious.
Some dismissive.
She placed the garment on the mannequin.
No dramatic flourish.
No nervous stutter.
She adjusted the collar slightly.
Then stepped back.
The lights hit the silk.
And the room shifted.
Because the design did not scream.
It commanded.
Clean silhouette.
Structured authority.
Modern without losing tradition.
One judge leaned forward unconsciously.
Another adjusted his glasses.
The sponsor representative from the trade conglomerate narrowed his eyes.
He recognized something dangerous.
Vision.
Liu Meilin began speaking.
Her voice steady.
Measured.
Confident.
"This design represents transition.
Tradition stepping into modern industry.
She didn't oversell.
She didn't beg.
She stated.
When she finished
Silence lingered half a second longer than usual.
Then one judge cleared his throat.
"Interesting structure.
Unconventional waistline."
"Yes," she replied calmly.
"Because women are no longer decorative. They are strategic."
A faint murmur rippled through the audience.
Miss Zhao watched from the wings.
Her smile had faded.
When Liu Meilin stepped off stage
Lu Jianfeng was waiting.
He said simply,
"They didn't expect that."
Liu Meilin's eyes remained on the judging table.
"They expected noise."
"And?"
"I gave them future."
Across the hall
The sponsor representative leaned toward his assistant.
"Find out who is backing Contestant 47."
The assistant whispered back.
"She registered independently."
The man frowned.
"No one this composed is independent."
He looked toward Miss Zhao.
"Make sure she doesn't reach finals."
And just like that
The fashion battlefield officially began.