Chapter 289 - 223: Invitation

Ni Bingyan didn’t currently have an endorsement deal with any luxury fashion brands, which meant she had fewer restrictions on what she could wear to events.

So today, she had chosen a modified fishtail cheongsam.

The cheongsam was sleeveless with a slanted placket fastened by traditional frog buttons, its pure white fabric interwoven with a subtle pattern of silver auspicious clouds.

The fabric was exquisite, the tailoring superb. It accentuated her stunning figure—slender, yet curvaceous. This, combined with her height and cool, fair complexion, was perfectly complemented by a full set of imperial green jade. When she entered, clutching a pearl-studded satin handbag, the stage lights caught her. For a moment, it was as if a sliver of moonlight had drifted into the venue. Her presence was absolutely commanding, no less captivating than a fairy descending from the heavens.

She naturally possessed the regal beauty of a "peony in bloom"—her features grand yet delicately lovely. The moment she stood there, poised and graceful, she captured everyone’s attention.

Ni Bingyan wasn’t just standing there to show off, however. She was looking for her seat.

At a crowded event like this, no matter how much the organizers wanted to avoid offending anyone, they had to assign seats meticulously. Otherwise, people would be at each other’s throats before the show even started.

Each invitation corresponded to a specific seat number, so even though Ni Bingyan had never attended an event like this, she wasn’t worried about finding a place to sit.

But after searching for a while, she finally located her seat, only to find two other actresses—ones she didn’t know—already sitting there.

Five people were somehow crammed onto a bench meant for three.

’Looks like it’s not just my seat that’s popular.’

Ni Bingyan glanced at the invitation in her hand, then back at the five people on the bench, a flicker of confusion in her eyes.

Probably terrified of being pushed onto the floor, all five were shoving with all their might. Veins bulged on their necks and sweat beaded on their foreheads. If any of them dared to wipe it away, they’d surely ruin their makeup.

They probably knew how embarrassing this was. The one in the middle, wearing a low-cut gown, was desperately trying to show off her cleavage. The one on the left in a miniskirt kept adjusting it to expose more leg. The two "treasures" sandwiched between them, dressed more conservatively, had faces as black as ink as they struggled to sit up straight.

As for the one on the far right, when Ni Bingyan looked over, she was covering her mouth, trying to stifle a snicker.

’A classic case of the pot calling the kettle black.’

’Well, now I’ve seen everything,’ Bingyan the slacker thought to herself.

’They’re trying so hard to get famous!’

’But... that’s *my* seat! If they’re sitting there, where am I supposed to sit?’

She had been enjoying the spectacle, but the sudden realization sent a jolt through her. Her good mood vanished.

The show was about to begin, and here she was, just standing around awkwardly. It was not a good look.

They were the ones causing a scene, but she was the collateral damage. Unfortunately, Sister Wei wasn’t around, and Ni Bingyan couldn’t decide what to do. Should she just walk up, invitation in hand, and ask them to move their "esteemed" posteriors?

’That seems a little rude... They’ll probably label me as disrespectful to my seniors.’

Just as the awkwardness was peaking, she heard someone call her name.

"Hey! Ni! Over here!"

Ni Bingyan looked toward the voice and saw Alan Casso sitting in the front row on the other side of the runway, waving enthusiastically.

It seemed someone hadn’t shown up on his side; there was an empty spot in the middle of a three-seat bench.

Feeling as though she’d been granted a pardon, Ni Bingyan smiled and hurried over.

"Oh, Alan! It’s so good to see you again!"

They had chatted for hours on the plane and gotten along wonderfully. She had thought that after they parted at the airport, they were unlikely to meet again, but here they were, seeing each other in the blink of an eye.

"Ha! I knew I’d be seeing you again soon. A lady as beautiful as you—I’d recognize you the moment you appeared!"

"I’m honored you’d say so."

Across the runway, directly opposite them, was the five-actress spectacle. Having caused such a scene, there wasn’t a single person in the venue who wasn’t watching them.

And from his seat, Alan Casso had a crystal-clear view of the whole thing.

When he saw Ni Bingyan appear, looking from her invitation to the bench with a bewildered expression, Alan understood immediately: the poor girl’s seat had been stolen.

During their chat on the plane, Ni Bingyan had mentioned that this was her first time being invited to Fashion Week and had asked him for all sorts of tips.

Having been in the fashion world into his forties, what kind of scene hadn’t he witnessed?

He knew that if Ni Bingyan were to confront them, she would be stirring up trouble no matter how she handled it, so he simply called her over to his side.

"This is my friend’s seat. He couldn’t make it today. I would be very grateful if you would watch the show with me."

Alan blinked his gray-blue eyes, his curly chestnut hair making him look exceptionally gentle.

Ni Bingyan knew he was saving her from an awkward situation and gratefully accepted.

The show was magnificent. Ni Bingyan’s knowledge of fashion was purely theoretical, so she didn’t really know what to look for in a live show. Alan quietly pointed things out to her the entire time.

Toward friends he respected, Alan was a true gentleman, and Ni Bingyan couldn’t begin to express her gratitude.

At the end of the show, the head designer came out for a final bow and gave a special thank you to Alan Casso. It was only then that Ni Bingyan realized Alan had designed all the jewelry for the show, and her admiration for him grew even more.

As the crowd began to disperse, Alan saw she was about to leave and called out to her, introducing her to his friends.

Ni Bingyan was flattered. Thankfully, no matter what country Alan’s friends were from, she was able to converse with them easily, never once appearing out of her depth.

Seeing how poised she was at such a young age, and how her conversation and demeanor showed no hint of trying to curry favor, the group chuckled warmly. A portly older gentleman then extended an invitation:

"My dear Ni, I’m hosting a literary salon this evening on the theme of suspense fiction. Would you care to join?"

Ni Bingyan froze, unsure how to respond.

After all, she had just met him. She had no idea if it would be safe to attend such a private gathering.

Noticing her hesitation, Alan "whispered" to her in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, "This is Mr. Victor Modiano. The book you were reading on the plane was written by him."

Ni Bingyan’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Really?" she asked Alan, her voice filled with excitement.

"Haha! Of course!"

Alan laughed and turned to Victor. "Dear Uncle, remember I told you I met a beautiful lady on the plane? The one who was reading your book, *Wednesday’s Rain*, from the moment she boarded? And after she finished, she actually took out a pen and paper to write down her thoughts on it, without giving me a single glance the entire time? Well, this is her."

Alan was a bit of an oddball—or, to put it more accurately, he had a touch of social anxiety.

With strangers or people he didn’t like, he’d put on a stern, unapproachable face that kept everyone at a distance. But with people he approved of, his attitude was wonderful.

He had been talking with Ni Bingyan all evening, exuding a gentle warmth, which had already made his friends curious. Now that they understood the reason, they all nodded in comprehension.

The man had always been immensely proud of his uncle. Seeing someone who appreciated his uncle’s work so deeply, he naturally wouldn’t be able to resist getting to know them.

Even if it took him a long time to mentally prepare himself before speaking.

Victor had assumed his nephew had taken a liking to the beauty from the East. His invitation had been an attempt to create an opportunity for him. He hadn’t expected this to be the story behind their meeting, and he couldn’t help but see Ni Bingyan in a new, more impressive light.

"Oh? You’re a fan of *Wednesday’s Rain*?"

"More than just that one! I love all of your books! I even had a friend bring several of them back for me from France!"

Ni Bingyan was a huge fan of Victor Modiano’s suspense novels!

For the ones that had been adapted into films, she would even compare the original novels with the movies, and every time she discovered a hidden Easter egg, she’d be thrilled for days!

"Speaking of which, I’ve even written you emails before with lots of questions. I wonder if you ever received them?"

While other young people idolized actors, singers, sports stars, or comedians, she had a special admiration for people of culture.

Victor Modiano was right at the top of her list of idols.

She spoke with such genuine passion that Victor was thoroughly delighted. But seeing that the venue was nearly empty, he smilingly interrupted her:

"Let’s save the rest for the salon this evening, shall we? I’ll treat you to some of my private stock of wine."

"Ooh~"

The others in the group let out a cheer.

Later, Ni Bingyan would learn from Alan that his uncle’s family owned a winery that had been passed down for several hundred years. He only brought out his private collection for guests he truly favored.