A series of gasps immediately erupted from the audience!
Ji Mingshu's mind went blank for a moment, and before she could react to what was happening, someone pulled her forcefully.
She was wearing 10-centimeter narrow stilettos, and when she was pulled like that, her ankle almost simultaneously experienced a sharp pain that made her vision go black.
Soon, another loud shattering sound rang out! But the next second, her ears were covered, and her head was also covered and hidden in someone's arms.
More clearly than the loud noise was the pounding of her own heart.
Thump, thump, thump.
Powerful and familiar.
In the biting wind of early winter, she smelled the comforting scent of fir trees.
Her nose was red from the cold, but her eyes remained unblinking, as if she were in a daze or longing for something.
Cen Sen's bodyguards rushed over immediately, and the executives who were accompanying Cen Sen on his inspection also urgently called staff to handle the scene and offered their concern.
"Mr. Cen, are you alright?"
"Oh dear, Mr. Cen, your hand is bleeding!"
"Quickly, call an ambulance!"
Someone twisted the handle and whispered, "Why call an ambulance when it didn't even hit you!"
After a long while, Cen Sen calmly replied, "I'm fine."
He still held Ji Mingshu tightly, without even looking up.
Zhou Jiaheng stood below, calming his racing heart while maintaining a composed demeanor as he asked the executives to leave.
Only after everyone had left did Ji Mingshu come to her senses.
She gave him a gentle push, and Cen Sen loosened his grip accordingly.
He was wearing a black wool coat today, which made his skin appear almost transparently white. His hand hung down, and drops of blood mixed with shards of glass dripped onto the deliberately aged ship deck, a shocking sight.
Ji Mingshu was a little flustered. After a while, she remembered to take the decorative silk scarf off her bag and hand it to him.
He didn't take it; instead, he stretched his hand out in front of her, his gaze indifferent.
She paused for a moment, then hesitantly covered his wound with the silk scarf and tied it in a knot.
—The two finally witnessed the awkward, speechless scene that Ji Mingshu had been looking forward to for so long, a scene that seemed to reach the center of the earth.
She forced herself to meet Cen Sen's gaze, and after a long pause, she suddenly blurted out, "My scarf is very expensive."
"Um... the lamp is so expensive, what if it breaks?"
After saying that, Ji Mingshu resignedly closed his eyes, wishing he could go back to ten seconds ago when he sewed his mouth shut.
But just as she closed her eyes, a clear male voice suddenly rang out in front of her, "I'll compensate you."
Author's Note: I'd give my life for you (doge)
Chapter 46
The enclosed immersive video installation was not yet fully installed, and the show venue was in a semi-open-air state, with a biting cold wind blowing in, making the phrase "I'll compensate you" unclear.
Ji Mingshu didn't know what to say. She wanted to take a small step back to distance herself from Cen Sen. But as soon as she lifted her ankle, a sharp pain shot up her spine, and she couldn't help but hiss softly.
"Did you twist it?"
Cen Sen lowered his eyes and looked at him.
Ji Mingshu didn't reply, but his nose and eyebrows were furrowed.
After a moment's thought, Cen Sen suddenly took off his coat, stepped forward, and draped the still-warm jacket over her shoulders, tightening the collar so that he practically wrapped her whole body in it.
Ji Mingshu instinctively flinched and tried to tidy her stray hairs, but before she could make a move, Cen Sen's hand, wrapped with a silk scarf, unexpectedly wrapped around her shoulder bone. He leaned down slightly, put his other hand around her legs, and with a gentle lift, he picked her up horizontally.
If Ji Mingshu didn't know what to say just now, then right now she clearly wanted to question him, but couldn't bring herself to say anything.
The two were very close, and she stared intently at Cen Sen, her warm breath spraying onto the edge of his chin, soft and wet.
Cen Sen occasionally lowered his eyes to meet her gaze, his eyes deep and calm.
The silk scarf wrapped around his hand had a deep, cold red hue, with one or two spots occasionally fluttering and falling in the wind along with the scarf's colorful hem, creating a kind of gorgeous yet bizarre beauty.
After walking all the way to the executive suite on the top floor of the hotel, Cen Sen placed Ji Mingshu on the sofa and then slowly sat down on the other side, stretching his hand slightly forward as the doctor who followed him in helped treat his wound.
Sitting face to face like this, Ji Mingshu noticed that his left hand was still bleeding profusely, and the wound looked even more shocking.
The doctor helped disinfect and remove the glass shards. Ji Mingshu instinctively opened her eyes, and her heart suddenly tightened. She didn't know if it was because she was frightened by Cen Sen's wound or because the doctor was treating her foot injury too painfully.
Cen Sen himself remained calm, looking down at his wound as if he felt no pain, and his brows did not furrow at all from beginning to end.
After the wound was treated, the two doctors gave each other a few words of advice, then got up together to pack their medical kits.
Zhou Jiaheng respectfully led the way, occasionally whispering, "This way, please."
The three of them left quickly. With a click, the door closed gently, leaving only Ji Mingshu and Cen Sen, the two injured patients, in the room. The air became quiet, filled with a faint, inexplicable awkwardness.
If you think about it carefully, the two haven't seen each other for about a month or two. The capital city has already gone from autumn to winter, and the weather forecast says that the first snow will fall this week.
In the past, when the two were silent, it was usually Ji Mingshu who broke the silence. This time, Ji Mingshu was also subconsciously thinking about what topic to talk about that would suit their current awkward yet polite situation.
Just then, Cen Sen looked at her hands, which were red from the cold, and suddenly said, "It's cold, wear more clothes when you go out."
"...?"
"Oh... I see..."
Ji Mingshu was slightly bewildered, not understanding why Cen Sen, with his sharp tongue, would utter words of concern.
After finishing his sentence, Cen Sen got up and brewed two Americanos using the coffee beans and coffee machine in the room. However, after tasting them, he didn't seem very satisfied with the flavor.
Ji Mingshu took a bite and also found the beans too bitter. She frowned almost imperceptibly, put down her cup, and then, trying to make conversation, asked, "What are you doing here today?"
“I heard you’re designing fashion shows here. I had some free time today, so I came to take a look.” Cen Sen put a sugar cube on her plate, his voice calm and low. “Actually, I planned to come a few days ago, but I was on a business trip abroad and couldn’t get away.”
Ji Mingshu suppressed the urge to cough and swallowed the coffee, but her face still turned red from holding it in.
Deep down, she had a narcissistic suspicion, but she never imagined that Cen Sen had actually come to see her, and that he would admit it so openly.
Continuing the topic of the fashion show, Cen Sen brought up another subject, saying, "I just saw your design downstairs; it's very exquisite and glamorous."
"...?"
You didn't say that before.
However, the next second, Cen Sen changed the subject and returned to his previous approach, "But your work still has the problem I told you about before."
"What's the problem?"
Ji Mingshu couldn't remember for a moment.
"It's not humane enough."
Cen Sen put down his coffee, looked at her and said, "I don't know what the designer's style is like, but since he approves of it, it proves that there's nothing wrong with your main show venue. From my layman's point of view, I can also see that your design is very artistic. One thing I think is not humane enough is that your seating arrangement for the audience seems unreasonable."
Just as Ji Mingshu was about to speak, he countered with, "You want to arrange for the audience to sit in the triangular area of the piano stairs and the corridor, right?"
"..."
That's true.
Cen Sen: "As far as I know, watching a fashion show is a very close-up experience. The triangular area of the piano staircase and the corridor space are too small. Your current lighting is entirely based on the runway and does not take into account the comfort of the audience area. This kind of brightness and light diffusion can easily cause visual fatigue for the audience. I think you can make some improvements in this regard."
Ji Mingshu unconsciously followed his train of thought, resting her chin on her hand as she recalled.
She was surprised to find that what Cen Sen, this layman, said actually made a lot of sense.
Actually, this isn't just her problem; many fashion shows, both domestically and internationally, suffer from this common issue. People are crammed together on small stools, resulting in a rather unpleasant experience. There have even been instances where audiences collapsed benches before the show even started, a truly laughable situation.
This widespread neglect of the audience area is largely due to the show organizers' superior attitude towards the audience, as well as various other reasons such as budget control, post-show dismantling, and rushing between shows.
However, this time, Christchou's domestic debut was not subject to these objective limitations, so it was not difficult to make improvements in this area.
As for the audience's perception of the lighting, this is indeed a major issue that she did not consider thoroughly.
She was just about to ask Cen Sen if he had any better suggestions when his phone screen suddenly lit up. He glanced at the caller ID, got up, walked to the French windows, and started talking to someone.
Ji Mingshu paused for a moment, turned to look at him, and listened carefully as well.
The other person was probably American, and the two were discussing a collaborative project in Hawaii. Cen Sen spoke entirely in English, with a very pleasant pronunciation—a husky, deep voice that carried a hint of sexiness, and a restrained elegance that differed from the exaggerated tones of Western speakers.
As Ji Mingshu listened, he unconsciously drifted off into a daze and even began to feel sleepy.
To meet the deadline for the design, she hadn't slept well for many days, and seemed to have become immune to coffee. Sinking into the soft sofa, sleepiness swept over her unexpectedly, and she quickly closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
When Cen Sen returned to the living room after finishing his phone call, he saw Ji Mingshu's head tilting to one side, her eyelashes thick, and her breathing even.
After standing by the sofa for a while, he gently carried Ji Mingshu to the bedroom bed and then drew the blackout curtains.
Despite it being daytime, the bedroom was dimly lit because of the curtains.
Cen Sen sat on the edge of the bed, brushing away Ji Mingshu's stray hairs and tucking her in. Just like the night before she ran away from home, he sat on the edge of the bed and did the same thing.
However, after many days, he seemed to have figured out a lot of things. Those fleeting thoughts churned and churned in his mind, ultimately pointing to a fact that he didn't want to think about deeply but had subconsciously acknowledged.
For some reason, he suddenly felt a desire to kiss.
He always does what he thinks, and he can't be called a gentleman, nor does he have any awareness of taking advantage of others' misfortunes.
His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. He placed one hand on Ji Mingshu's ear, leaned down slightly, and slowly approached, prying open her teeth, licking and gently biting. Not satisfied, he continued down her lips to her slender white neck and beautiful collarbone.
Ji Mingshu was sleeping too soundly to be aware of anything. Only when he turned to his side did he casually grab a hand wrapped in gauze and place it behind his head.
The doctor had just instructed Cen Sen not to put any more pressure on his left hand, but now that it was being used as a pillow, Cen Sen didn't pull his hand away. The bandage slowly stained red, and he just sat on the edge of the bed, occasionally leaning down to kiss his little canary, with a hint of unconscious infatuation.
When Ji Mingshu woke up, it was already late, and there was a faint smell of blood in the air. She groggily reached for the light switch, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in bed.
When she came to her senses, she immediately noticed the blood-stained bandages on the nearby table.
She belatedly looked around, and a question suddenly popped into her mind: How did she fall asleep? And how did she get into bed?
After a brief three-second mental blank, her gaze returned to the blood-stained bandage, and the cause and effect unconsciously began to connect in her mind.
There was a pair of obviously flat shoes by the bed, clearly prepared for her. She slowly slipped on the shoes and limped out to peek out—
Cen Sen has disappeared.