Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Cheongsam

As Miss Oriole left with Qin Zhen, the Baiyang Pavilion was abuzz with speculation.

“Master Chen, can this man really be trusted?” The Lord of Coastal City could not help but ask, “It’s just a piece of clothing, isn’t it? Is it really worth all this commotion?”

What could Chen Kuai say at this moment?

He, too, was stunned by Qin Zhen’s bold maneuver. Stammering in reply to the City Lord’s question, he said, “The textile craftsmanship of the Little Fishing Village is indeed renowned. The jacket that’s all the rage in Coastal City these days was made by Qin Zhen himself. Since he’s so confident, my lord, perhaps it would be best to wait and see.”

Huang Dalang chimed in, “If this brat dares to make a fool of us, my lord can cut off his head!”

The City Lord nodded slightly, a faint sense of anticipation stirring within him.

“Uncle Chen, what should we do?” At the table, Li Han and Chen Shu exchanged anxious glances. Even they hadn’t expected Qin Zhen to take such a gamble, staking his own head!

“What else can we do? We wait,” Chen Shu said helplessly.

“Are we really just going to sit here and watch Zhen get his head chopped off?” Li Han clenched his fists. “The City Lord’s daughter is proud and arrogant—she’ll surely look down on what our village has to offer! Who knows how picky she’ll be!”

“Then should we fight our way out and run off with Qin Zhen?” Chen Shu’s retort left Li Han speechless.

This was Coastal City! If trouble broke out here, not only would Qin Zhen die, the entire Little Fishing Village would be implicated.

“Relax, Qin Zhen knows what he’s doing!” Chen Shu comforted him. “That boy is clever—have you ever seen him outwitted?” Yet despite his words, Chen Shu felt uneasy; Qin Zhen’s gamble this time was truly perilous.

One wrong move, and it would cost him his head.

Meanwhile, in a private chamber of Baiyang Pavilion—

“I must see for myself what kind of garment Qin Zhen has brought in that wooden box.”

She instructed her maid to open the box. When the garment was fully revealed before Miss Oriole’s eyes, those usually cool and indifferent eyes betrayed a rare hint of astonishment.

Qin Zhen waited anxiously by the stairwell. Truthfully, his composure was only a facade.

For the value of a garment lies not in its appearance, but in the wearer’s subjective taste.

Qin Zhen found the cheongsam beautiful, but that didn’t guarantee Miss Oriole would feel the same. If the cheongsam failed to please her, his life would be over.

Yet high risk brings high reward. Should Miss Oriole be truly satisfied, Qin Zhen could finally make the Little Fishing Village’s name famous.

A creak echoed, and the tightly closed door swung open.

---

Seeing the breathtaking figure before him, her lips curved ever so slightly. Qin Zhen knew then—his gamble had paid off.

“This garment—I like it very much.”

At the table, people whispered among themselves.

“Why hasn’t Miss Oriole come yet? Isn’t she just changing clothes? Why is it taking so long?”

“Brother, you’re not married, are you? Women always take forever to change…”

“I think it’s not the changing that’s the issue—maybe Miss Oriole didn’t like Qin Zhen’s garment and is chopping off his head right now!”

Just then, a commotion erupted downstairs, accompanied by cries of surprise.

“Miss Oriole is here!”

Everyone perked up, craning their necks toward the entrance.

Amid the crowd, Miss Oriole approached gracefully.

The embroidered brocade clung perfectly, accentuating her slender, elegant figure. Black ink flowed across her white cloud shoulders like starlight, shimmering brilliantly. The skirt, deeper than the ink, hugged her waist, veiling her in misty gauze, like the poised tail feathers of a vermilion bird.

Most striking of all was the mountain-and-water ink-wash design, echoing the starlight on her shoulders, black and white interwoven, adorned with a line of exquisite embroidery.

Boldly stitched were the words: “A waterfall plunges three thousand feet, as though the Milky Way descends from the heavens.”

“Beautiful!”

The City Lord of Coastal City sprang to his feet, his aged eyes filled with awe.

It was a direct, breathtaking beauty: landscape hazy and poetic, matched with Miss Oriole’s proud demeanor, she seemed like a celestial maiden descended to earth—lofty and dazzling.

Not only him, but nearly everyone present was stunned by this garment, unlike anything they had ever seen.

“It’s too beautiful! Is that really Miss Oriole? She looks like a goddess from the heavens!”

“I… I can’t even look at her, I feel so inferior!”

“One glance conquers the city, another the nation!”

While the men were lost in Miss Oriole’s beauty, the women were even more captivated by the garment itself.

Fang Lan, who had thought Qin Zhen reckless and arrogant, now stared in awe at the dress, feeling a shock like never before.

Was it possible for such exquisite clothing to exist in this world?

Compared to this, her own luxurious attire felt like rags!

How was Qin Zhen’s mind so ingenious, able to create such a masterpiece?

---

Amazed, she silently vowed to collaborate with Qin Zhen. Even this single garment could reverse the Fang family’s fortunes, giving them the upper hand over the Huang family. If the Fang family could produce such garments, the Huang family would never rise again in the clothing trade.

Her breath quickened at the thought.

Hearing the praise and captivated gazes around her, Miss Oriole felt indescribable satisfaction. At that moment, she truly believed herself the most beautiful woman in the world—just as Qin Zhen had said: brilliant as the stars.

The City Lord came forward, circling his daughter, examining her closely, unable to contain his curiosity. “What… what kind of garment is this?!”

“This is a cheongsam,” Qin Zhen replied.

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a traditional cheongsam; Qin Zhen had preserved its allure and directness, while adding poetic nuance. The fusion was unexpectedly harmonious.

And with Miss Oriole’s natural elegance, beauty paired with splendid attire stood unrivaled.

“A waterfall plunges three thousand feet, as though the Milky Way descends from the heavens! What a poem! What a poem indeed!” Even the City Lord was moved by the bold calligraphy and its poetic imagery.

He looked at Qin Zhen, his gaze mixing hesitation and anticipation.

“Did you write this poem?”

“No, I copied it,” Qin Zhen answered honestly. “The original author is the Immortal Poet, Li Bai.”

Li Bai?

The City Lord looked baffled.

The whole room was equally confused.

Among them were scholars and literati, yet none could recall such a poet.

Chen Kuai interjected, “Li Bai? Isn’t that the poem you’re always reciting? How did it become Li Bai’s?”

The crowd was astonished.

The City Lord stared in wonder. “You can compose poetry too?”

Even Miss Oriole, who had previously looked down on Qin Zhen, now regarded him with a new expression.

“I know a little,” Qin Zhen said, neither humble nor arrogant. “But this poem is certainly not mine.”

“So modest! Remarkably modest!” The City Lord laughed heartily, his admiration for Qin Zhen growing.

“I did not expect one so young to be so indifferent to fame and fortune. Rare indeed, rare indeed!”