They wandered the town for a while.
A man with a camera slung over his shoulder and artistically long hair had been watching Meng RuoChao. His listless expression snapped into something bright the moment he saw her. He hurried over with a grin that was almost reverent.
“Excuse me, miss—sorry to bother you!” he said, voice trembling with excitement, eyes fixed on her.
“Your look… your bearing,” he went on, words tumbling out. “It’s so unique—this blend of classical and modern beauty. It’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
He practically piled compliments on her, as if every flattering adjective in the book might somehow do her justice.
“I’m an independent photographer, working on a series about the New Chinese aesthetic,” he explained, visibly eager. “I’ve been scouting for a model and haven’t had much luck—until now. Would you—may I shoot a set of photos of you? Just a few frames around this old town.”
Meng RuoChao, used to catching all manner of attention, still registered a flicker of surprise. She glanced at Pei Jiangmu.
He frowned faintly—always wary when strangers approached her out of the blue—but he noticed something else in her eyes: a spark of interest. He swallowed his discomfort and gave a small, encouraging nod.
Meng considered. She was, in fact, wearing the shop’s new featured item. If the images turned out well, it could be good publicity.
“All right,” she said. “But it can’t take too long.”
The photographer nearly beamed through his camera. He thanked them profusely.
The shoot went smoothly. Under the photographer’s direction, Meng leaned against a bridge, looked out from a latticed window, smiled softly from the bow of a black-canopied boat. At first she was a little tense, but he guided her with a practiced eye. Bit by bit she loosened, and the camera began to catch a calm, expressive ease. By the end, every glance and posture read like the very essence of a serene, lithe eastern beauty.
The man’s shutter clicked almost celebratorily; he whispered to himself, awed. “Yes—this is it. I was about to give up after days of wandering… and then I find you.”
“Meng Miss, you’re the most soulful model I’ve shot. Not to flatter—this set will blow up.”
Pei stood a short distance away, watching Meng glow beneath the lens. Pride and affection swelled in his chest. This—this was how she should shine.
When they wrapped, the photographer, reluctant to let the moment end, made one more request, slightly embarrassed. “Miss Meng… these turned out so beautifully. May I post them on my social channels? I’ll credit you, I promise—no commercial use, just as part of my New Chinese series.”
Meng barely hesitated. Fuyun Studio’s design philosophy was the same—New Chinese style. If these images helped spread that aesthetic, she welcomed it. “Okay,” she said. “But if they’re later used commercially, you must contact me first.”
“Of course, of course.” He nodded fervently. “Thank you. I’ll edit them and send you the files in a couple days. If you have an account, I’ll tag you.”
They exchanged contact details and went their separate ways. The photographer left still peering at the camera screen, muttering admiration. He was clearly thrilled with the set.
Meng returned to Pei and smiled. “We said today was for fun, and I ended up making you watch me work.”
“Sorry, little Pei brother.” She teased him with the pet name, aiming to make him blush.
But since they’d made things official, Pei’s “dominant” side seemed unlocked. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drew her in, and bent to press a soft kiss to her lips—gentle, yet unmistakably possessive.
Caught off guard, her cheeks flamed. She shot him an accusing look, but didn’t pull away. What had begun as teasing had quickly become his turn to tease her.
Pei’s laugh was low. His fingers traced the fabric at her hip; his voice carried a rough edge. “Just being beside you and watching you—that’s my greatest pleasure.”
They smiled at each other and wandered hand in hand until evening, staying for the folk performance in the scenic area before returning to the apartment.
Meng thought the small episode would end once she received the files. The photos were indeed beautiful. Ai Gao and Xu Lin saw them and suggested printing a few for the shop. Meng considered it and decided against it—displaying them in the store felt odd.
What she didn’t expect was how far the photos would travel. The photographer, it turned out, had a modest reputation for his aesthetic eye and for finding unassuming beauties. He uploaded a nine-image grid titled “Encounter: Dreams of Jiangnan,” and the set caught fire.
“Who is this actress? I don’t recognize her—her bearing is unreal!”
“Link to the qipao, please! Someone find her account; I need every detail in three minutes!”
“This is the right way to present eastern beauty—ten thousand times more refined than those influencer faces.”
“Where was this shot taken? That old town looks amazing—location, please!”
“There’s a story in her eyes. I love her!”
The photos sparked a small trend for modernized qipao outfits and a renewed interest in Jiangnan towns. Meng, meanwhile, remained blissfully unaware. She was busy by day, and by night she was out on dates with Pei—there was no time to watch the internet swell.
A few days later, Yi Mo barreled into Fuyun Studio, phone held up, breathless. “RuoRuo! RuoRuo! Do you know you’re famous? The whole web’s been hunting for you!”
Meng and Pei were folding clothes. She looked up, puzzled. “Famous?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it?” Yi Mo shoved her phone in front of Meng and started jabbering.
Meng glanced at the screen—and then laughed, half embarrassed, half amused. It was indeed as over-the-top as everyone said.
“You’re gorgeous, for real,” Ai Gao said, peeking in and clicking through the images for the twentieth time. “They’re incredible shots. Meng, you look like a fairy descending to earth.”
“I have a feeling our shop’s qipao inquiries are about to explode,” Xu Lin added, eyes bright with business-minded delight.