All Too Late

The backstage of the fashion show was buzzing and filled with cluttered footsteps and languages from all over the world, a stark contrast to the outside's bleak wind and cold rain, as if they were two different worlds.

An Chuyu stood before a makeup mirror rimmed with light bulbs, getting the final touches from the stylist—she had already put on the dress for the runway. To prevent wrinkling the skirts and affecting the aesthetic, she couldn't sit down to have her makeup done.

From the front, the music playing along the catwalk faintly reached her ears. Zhu Cuixi moved closer and whispered, "Sis, it's almost the last group."

She picked up the hem of An Chuyu's dress that was piled at her feet to facilitate her movement.

The stylist stepped aside, contemplating the makeup and hairstyle she had done for An Chuyu, and nodded, indicating it was perfect.

Wearing ten-centimeter high heels, An Chuyu walked towards the entrance of the catwalk.

She wasn't a professional model, but she was walking in the show tonight as the global ambassador for the luxury brand. The arrangement had been finalized half a year ago, and at that time the designer had even flown to China to tailor it for her personally.

"Sis, are you nervous?" Zhu Cuixi looked at her flawless, beautiful face under the lights, "If you feel nervous, just pretend that the audience is a bunch of carrots."

An Chuyu put up an index finger to her lips in a silencing gesture, signaling for her to quiet down.

Zhu Cuixi stuck out her tongue and kept quiet.

An Chuyu had been busy filming for months and was still training her catwalk with a modeling coach before flying to Paris. She had walked many red carpets, but this was her first runway show—there was a difference.

As the music by her ear shifted rhythm, An Chuyu took a deep breath and, following the designer's guidance, stepped confidently onto the stairs, walked straight for two meters, made a slight turn, and then appeared in everyone's line of sight, moving forward along the long T-shaped catwalk.

Models kept coming toward her, passing by her side.

The show-stopping, smoky purple dress An Chuyu wore was named "Oath." It had a strapless design with layers of pleated chiffon at the chest, and a train that swept the floor, embroidered in gold thread with Greek lettering. Under the bright lights, the fluttering chiffon and the shimmering Greek characters were like rippling gleams of light. If someone understood them, they would grasp why the piece was named "Oath"—every word stitched into it was a declaration of love.

To best showcase this dress, An Chuyu's long curls were all wound up and held in place with irregular Baroque pearls at the back of her head.

She just needed to make her way to the front, strike a pose, and then she could turn back.

An Chuyu thought this to herself, but an accident occurred in an instant. As a model walking in the opposite direction passed by her, her high heel stepped on the hem of An Chuyu's dress.

The strapless gown suddenly dropped, and a few muffled gasps rose from the audience. As a wardrobe malfunction was about to happen, An Chuyu reacted quickly. One hand on her hip, her knuckles pressed forcefully, firmly holding down the side of her chest, she stopped the dress from falling any further.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the model who caused the mishap and a chill settled in her heart.

Who else could it be but Qiao Lufei?

An Chuyu steadied her nerves and walked the remaining short distance with one hand still on her waist, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor.

Xi Zheng, sitting in the first row below the stage, had witnessed the entire incident. His hand, resting on his knee, clenched. He had felt anxious for her the moment the accident happened.

Xu Ye leaned forward from behind him, his voice very low, "I finally understand why Mr. Xi made time in his busy schedule to watch this fashion show."

Xi Zheng instead asked him, "Why is that?"

Xu Ye said, "According to the information we've gathered, Mrs. Madelon is a fan of An Chuyu. If we can invite An Chuyu to Mrs. Madelon's birthday party, it would definitely help us secure this cooperation..."

"She is my wife," Xi Zheng interrupted him.

Xu Ye's mind took a moment to catch up, "Who?"

"An Chuyu," Xi Zheng replied.

Xu Ye blanked for a second, surprise dawning in his eyes. Was Mr. Xi also a fan of An Chuyu? He had never heard about it before. Moreover, he was really a devoted fan of An Chuyu, unexpectedly passionate about following stars.

Xi Zheng watched An Chuyu's retreating figure, lost in thought.

—

After participating in the designer's curtain call, An Chuyu, hampered by the cumbersome dress, told Zhu Cuixi she was heading straight for the changing room.

Qiao Lufei was inside alone, which made it convenient for her to ask questions.

An Chuyu didn't disguise her anger as she cut to the chase, "Did you do it on purpose?"

As an assistant, Zhu Cuixi naturally protected her own people. Since she was in unfamiliar territory, she felt a bit worried, guarding outside the changing room, glancing around like a thief, constantly aware of her surroundings.

Qiao Lufei was the China region spokesperson for the same luxury brand, and her level of authority was different from An Chuyu's. It was an accident that they ended up on the same runway this time.

A model had a last-minute accident, and Qiao Lufei happened to be in Paris shooting a magazine cover. The vacancy coincidentally matched a gown named after her, called "Lufei".

With all factors in her favor, the brand called her to step in.

Qiao Lufei lowered her head to adjust the mint green tulle of her dress, speaking in an even tone, "What proof do you have that I did it on purpose? Your gown's train was too long, and I accidentally stepped on it. These little accidents happen all the time on the runway. Don't let your paranoia make you blame others for your own issues."

An Chuyu laughed, though her eyes didn't carry the joy: "Can't compete for movie resources, so you start playing dirty tricks? That's as far as you'll go."

Qiao Lufei paused, as if pricked by a needle, suddenly raising her head to look at An Chuyu, with flames of anger in her eyes.

An Chuyu still wore that non-smiling expression, "Struck a nerve? 'Dawn Breaks' has already wrapped up, and I didn't expect you to still be hung up on it."

Qiao Lufei: "An Chuyu, don't be so smug! Are you saying you didn't seek out Director Jiang behind the scenes?"

"Sorry, but Director Jiang approached me first." An Chuyu stepped closer to her, looking down from above, "It's not my fault if you're not as skilled. You'll probably lose more resources to others in the future. Besides, I didn't take it from you. Until you sign the contract, the role isn't yours. Qiao Lufei, after all these years in the industry, surely you understand that rule."

Both women had the kind of radiant beauty that appealed on screen, and they followed similar career paths. Battles for dominance were common, and their fans clashed over even the slightest disagreements.

Compared to An Chuyu, who had long been established in the film industry, Qiao Lufei, who had recently transitioned to the big screen, seemed to have a less stable foundation and was eager to prove herself.

Missing out on Director Jiang GuangLing's comeback film after six years had already filled Qiao Lufei with regret, and having An Chuyu overshadow her as the brand's endorser only made matters worse. Encountering her on the runway, where enemies become even more envious at sight, Qiao Lufei let her anger get the best of her, wanting only to embarrass her in public.

Lost in thought, a cool hand on her shoulder jolted Qiao Lufei back to reality.

An Chuyu offered her a faint smile, "You might not know this, but I'm not as easy-going as I appear on the surface. I hold grudges. I was lucky today, not to have a wardrobe malfunction in front of the cameras, but I'll still be holding you accountable for this."

Qiao Lufei felt a surge of unease flash in her eyes.

"What... are you going to do?" Her voice hesitated, betraying a lack of confidence.

An Chuyu raised her right hand, and Qiao Lufei squinted, instinctively wanting to dodge, but her shoulder was held tightly by An Chuyu. Her grip was strong, and Qiao Lufei couldn't break free at that moment.

The slap that Qiao Lufei anticipated did not come. Instead, the changing room door was pushed open, and someone barged in.

Zhu Cuixi stood at the doorway, speaking urgently, "Sis, this gentleman insisted on coming in. I couldn't stop him!"

An Chuyu's raised hand was grasped by a larger palm. She shifted her gaze onto the hand, noting its slender and fair fingers, with a wedding ring on the ring finger.

Xi Zheng pulled her aside a couple of steps.

An Chuyu glanced at the owner of the hand, finding his face somewhat familiar. She frowned, unable to recall who he was, so she asked coldly, "Who are you? Is it customary to barge into the ladies' changing room at will?"

Xi Zheng was taken aback, uncertain whether she was pretending not to recognize him because others were around or if she truly did not remember his face. Either way, he felt sufficiently frustrated.

Xi Zheng didn't answer her question and spoke in a voice meant for their ears alone, "Come out with me, I have something to tell you."

He didn't continue to detain An Chuyu, letting go of her hand and walking out of the changing room first.

Qiao Lufei, having narrowly escaped disaster, watched as the color slowly returned to her pale face and her heart still raced.

An Chuyu was perplexed. Initially not wanting to pay attention to the man's words, the next second, a flash of memory stopped her in her tracks.

She remembered.

That man was her husband, with whom she had registered their marriage half a year ago.