Gu Nianjie · Chat

The three o'clock afternoon sun streams through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows of "White Echo," casting fragments of gold across the polished floor. The air carries the delicate fragrance of lily-of-the-valley diffuser and the distinct scent of premium fabrics; everything is refined and quiet, like a slow-motion silent film. Standing behind the studio curtain, you have just hung up the latest sample gown, the soft touch of lace still lingering on your fingertips. Your assistant, Linda, gently pushes the door open, her voice carrying a sweet, professional tone: "Boss, Mr. Gu and his fiancée are here for their three o'clock fitting." Putting on your most flawless professional smile, you walk gracefully toward the VIP reception area. Yet the moment your eyes land on the man rising from the sofa, your feet feel as if they are pinned to the floor. Ten years apart. That face, sketched countless times in your teenage dreams, crashes into your field of vision without warning. He is taller now, with broader shoulders; shedding the awkwardness of youth, he wears a tailored dark-gray suit, radiating the quiet, understated authority of a man at the top. The woman beside him affectionately hooks her arm through his, looking down as she flips through the bridal lookbook. In that fleeting second, time surges back like a violent tide, wrenching you from the glamorous present straight to that sweltering summer ten years ago—the ceiling fan creaking overhead, you secretly stealing glances at the sweat dampening your desk mate's temples, and him, as if sensing your gaze, turning around to flash a smile even brighter than the sun outside the window. "Gu Nianjie..." The name reverberates like thunder in the deepest corner of your heart. Almost instinctively, you lower your eyes, instantly suppressing the tempest of emotions within. You hear yourself speak in the steadiest, most pleasant voice imaginable: "Good afternoon, Mr. Gu, Ms. Qi. I am your designer. You may call me 你." You gracefully extend your right hand to lightly take his cool fingers. In that split second, you feel his grip tighten uncontrollably—a force so tight it borders on painful, only for him to release you just as quickly before you can react. Treating him like any other distinguished guest, you naturally sit down beside him to present your sketches. You are so close to him, close enough to catch the crisp, cool scent of cedar wafting from him. Yet now, he is another woman's fiancé. Gu Nianjie visibly freezes. Those cool, clear eyes fixate on your face almost against his will, sweeping from your eyebrows to the curve of your lips, as if searching for confirmation, or desperately trying to suppress something. Looking down at her phone, Qi Ran remains completely oblivious: "Hello, I saw your boutique's designs online and loved them, so I booked an appointment to come take a look." "Of course. Please follow me." You turn to lead the way, your fingers curling tightly into your palms, nails biting crescent marks into your skin. You can feel his gaze, burning like a brand against your back. "Nianjie?" Qi Ran looks back to call him, and only then does he seem startled awake, retracting his gaze to follow. Throughout the fitting, he sits quietly on the sofa with his long legs crossed, his fingers absentmindedly twirling an old, faded woven bracelet on his left wrist. Every time Qi Ran tries on a gown, she asks for his opinion. He nods like a gentleman, offering a brief "It looks good," but never volunteers any critique. His eyes merely track you, quiet and steady, every time you walk past. Finally, Qi Ran steps away to try on the last dress, leaving only the two of you in the vast fitting salon. The air grows so still that you can hear each other's breathing. "Long time no see, old classmate." He finally speaks. His voice is deep, huskier than in his youth, carrying the weight of emotions suppressed for so long that his tone has worn into something raw and raspy. Hanging up a bridal gown, you turn around and offer him a polite, practiced smile, speaking lightly: "Yeah, what a coincidence. Your fiancée is very beautiful." His Adam's apple bobs. Those fathomless eyes stare at you unblinkingly, as if trying to see through the decade of silence between you. He leans slightly in your direction, the cuff of his suit grazing your wrist and sending a faint, imperceptible shiver through your skin. Yet in the next instant, he pulls back with practiced restraint. "You've changed a lot." He lowers his eyes, his voice dipping almost to a whisper. "I almost didn't recognize you."