DM Chapter 55

Chapter 55: Hold on Tight, and Don’t Get Scared

 

Jiang Xiaoyuan suddenly dashed across the road, wildly waving down a car. “Driver, to ‘Count’s Place’! Hurry, it’s urgent!”

The driver floored the gas pedal, and the car roared forward with a “hum”. Jiang Xiaoyuan was so consumed with her racing thoughts that she couldn’t wait even for this short ride. She rummaged through her pockets, finding half a pack of tissues. Borrowing a pen from the driver, she focused intently, scribbling and sketching on the tissue.

It had to be warm and brilliant—nothing subtle about the brilliance. It must be without any shadow, full of energy and anticipation.

But brilliance and passion are different. Brilliance needs a touch of innocence, not complicated, but simple and piercing.

Jiang Xiaoyuan quickly scrawled the word “piercing” on the crumpled tissue, and the ink from the medium pen spread across the white surface. She absentmindedly filled in the blotched ink, drawing a flower.

Right, how could “Spring” only be sweet?

To awaken from a long winter, it had to carry the power to ignite the world—fearless, charging ahead, but with some restraint. After all, too much brilliance fades, and at the end of the bloom, spring turns to summer.

The so-called “inspiration” is actually like bubbles in the water.

When a person floats on the surface, they have to wait for the waves to rise to see the white bubbles appearing on top of the surf. They are fleeting, bursting before you can capture them.

Only by diving into the water can you touch the small and large bubbles in the swirling liquid.

At that moment, it feels like one can grab hold of enough brilliance to create a masterpiece, but deciding whether to stop there or continue diving deeper, ignoring the burst of inspiration, becomes a very difficult choice.

Sometimes, it’s not that people don’t want to make an effort, but letting go of the countless thoughts in their mind is incredibly harsh and cruel.

Without hesitation, Jiang Xiaoyuan chose the latter. After all, Teacher Jiang had already shot down countless drafts of her plans, and she had become numb to the heartache.

From floating to diving deep, she discarded the first inspiration she grabbed and continued deeper, threading together her life experiences.

Every time she dived so deep she couldn’t go further, what she caught in her final grasp became the ultimate answer.

As she used up the last breath in her lungs, it was as if she conquered herself once again.

Whether or not what she conquered would impress others no longer mattered.

Because even if she drained herself dry of her blood and flesh, she couldn’t produce anything better.

Jiang Xiaoyuan worked through the night, revising draft after draft. She stepped out for a cup of coffee, and when she returned, she started editing again. After two rounds of revisions, the original draft she worked on in the taxi had become unrecognizable—essentially, she started over from scratch.

By the time she noticed the lighting felt off, she realized in her heightened state of excitement and oxygen deprivation that the sun had already risen.

The night had passed.

After making final edits to her proposal, Jiang Xiaoyuan suddenly felt completely drained. She sat still for a few seconds, then sluggishly went upstairs like a wandering soul.

By the time Jiang Bo strolled into the studio after a slow breakfast, it was almost ten o’clock. The moment he stepped inside, he smelled strong coffee—almost as if the coffee pot had tipped over and no one had bothered to pick it up.

Jiang Xiaoyuan was nowhere to be seen. The studio was eerily quiet, with no sign of life. The desk was littered with messy papers, and the computer was still on, its screen flickering.

Jiang Bo froze, thinking to himself: “She didn’t really work through the entire night, did she?”

He walked over and gathered the papers scattered across the table and floor, silently flipping through them.

In professional matters, Jiang Xiaoyuan always felt like Emperor Dowager’s thoughts were as elusive as needles in the sea. She never knew how to meet his expectations, always fearful and uncertain after each scolding, unsure of where she went wrong.

Fortunately, she had already exhausted her bad luck. Her mind had become strong; otherwise, with the constant anxiety, she might have developed a psychological block toward “Empress Dowager Jiang.”

What she didn’t know was that Jiang Bo had never been disappointed in her, which he found somewhat astonishing.

He just didn’t want her to become overly proud, so he never showed it.

Just then, Jiang Bo’s phone rang. He glanced upstairs, then walked into the first-floor lounge, carefully closing the door behind him before answering, “Hello?”

A friend on the other end quickly said: “Teacher Jiang, I really can’t help this time. The preliminary competition, well… you know, it’s all decided by the committee. Someone tipped them off, saying that as long as you’re registered, your name won’t appear on the shortlist for the next round. They’re in a tough spot too. Is there any other way? Maybe using a pseudonym or a fake name?”

Jiang Bo sighed, seemingly not surprised when he heard this. “Do you know what ‘real-name registration’ means?”

Both ends of the line fell silent.

After a while, Jiang Bo said: “If there’s really no way, don’t worry about me. But there’s someone named Jiang Xiaoyuan from our studio. Just make sure her work gets submitted. That’s all that matters.”

The person on the other end asked: “Who? Is she your apprentice?”

Jiang Bo hesitated for a moment before replying: “Something like that.”

His friend said: “I’ll give it a shot. But does your mother know about this person in your studio? Let me tell you, if this doesn’t go well, your studio could end up blacklisted… Seriously, why go against your family like this? You didn’t have to start this studio, and now it’s come to this. Are you out of your mind?”

Jiang Bo replied stiffly: “That’s not my family, and she’s not my mother.”

Unaware of the full situation, his friend sighed: “I don’t know what kind of issues you have with your family, but they did raise you. If this gets out, you’ll be in the wrong.”

Jiang Bo fell silent.

His friend continued” “If it’s really hopeless, I’d suggest trying in other locations. All the local preliminaries are the same. You don’t have to compete here. Have you seen the guest list for the finals of this competition? This year’s national finals lineup is the strongest in a decade. Even just appearing in the finals without winning could set you up for a bright future. It’s okay to have conflicts, but don’t let family issues ruin your career.”

How could his friend understand his predicament? They only gave well-meaning advice, urging him to take care of his “family affairs.”

Jiang Bo couldn’t explain, so he only replied with a polite: “Thanks.”

Just as he was about to hang up, his friend suddenly said: “I’ve always known you’re talented. It would be such a waste to let that go.”

That statement caught in Jiang Bo’s throat, and he struggled to end the call politely.

In the midst of chaos, hearing someone say, “I know you’re talented,” even if it was partly flattery, made him feel deeply comforted.

It was as if, with just that one sentence, the loneliness and isolation he felt could all melt away.

Jiang Bo stood alone in front of the lounge’s large floor-to-ceiling windows. It was a beautiful late autumn morning. Down below, cars filled the streets, and the brilliant sunshine filtered through clean glass and thin white curtains, flooding the room.

When he had chosen this studio, the one requirement had been “high-rise” because standing at a height gave him the illusion of looking down upon the world. Many successful people shared this preference.

But now, standing on the 21st floor no longer gave him any sense of excitement.

Teacher Jiang would often arrive at the studio after 9 a.m., sometimes taking a quick stroll around, leaving before noon, or even disappearing for the whole day. His main tasks seemed to be either giving orders or criticizing others’ work. This carefree boss was a stark contrast to Jiang Xiaoyuan, who was so busy that she seemed like she needed eight hands.

In reality, the pressure Jiang Bo was under was far greater than it seemed.

His face remained calm, but inside, he was deeply troubled. Fan Xiaoxiao was determined to make him regret his actions, cutting off nearly all his escape routes. Several major clients had severed ties with him, and even small art troupes and film companies with whom he’d had long-term contracts were no longer renewing them.

Recently, he had heard from a trusted client that rumors were spreading about him having hepatitis B, and some even claimed he had nail fungus. Occasionally, Teacher Jiang would test nail designs on himself, leaving his nails painted with various products. The rumors claimed that he used nail polish to cover up damaged nails.

Upon hearing this, Jiang Bo immediately washed his nails clean. However, while he could show people his hands, it wasn’t as if he could display his liver for examination.

Stylists who handle makeup and hair often require skin contact, and many makeup artists bring their own cosmetics. Even though the disease can’t be transmitted through contact, clients would still avoid him if they believed the rumors. Although Jiang Bo had a reputation in the industry, he still relied heavily on long-term major clients, and his position wasn’t yet strong enough to withstand this kind of damage.

Fan Xiaoxiao was trying to destroy him.

What could Jiang Bo do? File a defamation lawsuit? The rumors had no clear source, and he lacked the financial and emotional resources to pursue legal action.

Should he prove his health by showing a medical report?

These days, even currency can be easily faked, so what would a medical report prove? Anyone could carve a hospital’s stamp onto a carrot, and people wouldn’t believe it anyway. They’d think he was being defensive, trying to hide something.

Under such circumstances, perhaps the only sensible option was to move somewhere else and start over.

But “moving” was like “divorce”—easy to say, but fraught with complications and obstacles when it came to actually doing it.

First, after so much time operating at a loss, Jiang Bo had repeatedly lowered his prices to retain clients, and the studio’s profits were now razor-thin. His finances were stretched to the limit.

Second, Jiang Bo’s resources outside the city were largely dependent on his major clients. The small clients’ resources wouldn’t be enough to sustain the operation of a studio. Locally, he still had some connections, but elsewhere, he’d be starting from scratch. Even if no one deliberately sabotaged him, he doubted he could get the Nirvana Studio’s registration past the initial rounds of approvals.

Moreover… the preliminary competition was fast approaching, so there was no time to consider relocating.

Jiang Bo pulled out a cigarette and held it between his fingers, like a taut string that could easily snap, pulling him into a dreamlike stupor. But as he stared at his pale hand, his brow furrowed for a moment, and he silently put the cigarette away. He thought to himself, it didn’t matter what happened to him, but now that he had dragged Jiang Xiaoyuan onto this ship, how could he abandon her here?

He needed to find a way out.

Unbeknownst to Jiang Xiaoyuan, who was sleeping soundly upstairs, she had become one of Jiang Bo’s main pillars of support.

Jiang Bo had no intention of participating in the stylist competition. He hadn’t even registered. He knew Fan Xiaoxiao was keeping a close eye on him, waiting for the chance to ruin him, so he chose to lay low. But he couldn’t let Jiang Xiaoyuan or Nirvana Studio miss this opportunity.

Over the past few days, Jiang Bo had tried every connection he could think of, but nothing seemed secure.

He picked up his phone, put it down again, turned it over in his palm a few times, and finally opened his contact list, finding a number he had never called before.

Qi Lian.

Jiang Xiaoyuan had joked about attracting investors for the studio, but Qi Lian, a potential investor, wasn’t joking. He had secretly contacted Jiang Bo after avoiding Jiang Xiaoyuan and left him a number for follow-up.

Jiang Bo had done some digging into Qi Lian’s background. All he knew was that the Qi family had made their fortune locally but had since moved most of their business elsewhere. Qi Lian’s parents lived abroad, and he remained in the city for reasons unknown. Jiang Bo wasn’t sure how Jiang Xiaoyuan had met him.

Uncertain of Qi Lian’s intentions, Jiang Bo had hesitated to contact him, but now, with no other options, he had no choice.

He dialed Qi Lian’s number. Ten minutes later, he hung up, put on his coat, and hurried to leave. Before he left, he returned to make a few quick revisions to Jiang Xiaoyuan’s proposal, leaving a flamboyant note beside it: “Reviewed. Passable. Good enough.”

Jiang Xiaoyuan woke up in the afternoon, her mind still clouded with colorful fragments. She tumbled downstairs, only to be crushed by Teacher Jiang’s message.

After pulling an all-nighter, she got a “not so good” score. She must have barely passed the exam.

But she quickly adjusted her mindset—passing was better than having to redo everything. Getting a pass from a nitpicker like Teacher Jiang wasn’t easy.

Jiang Xiaoyuan knew nothing of the studio’s struggles or the competition’s hidden rules. She devoted herself wholeheartedly to running her small studio, reaching out to clients with boundless enthusiasm while perfecting her work.

The preliminary competition began soon. Every registered participant had to attend an on-site interview lasting just a few minutes. After being missing for several days, Teacher Jiang finally seemed to remember the event. He came back just to criticize Jiang Xiaoyuan’s outfit and found a whole list of faults.

Annoyed, Jiang Xiaoyuan said: “Are you done? A pretty girl like me, with this face and this body, could walk out in a sack and start a new fashion trend. Got it?”

Jiang Bo: “…”

Once again, Jiang Bo had a revelation about what it meant to be “thick-skinned.” He was truly amazed.

Jiang Bo: “…Just go already. Please.”

Jiang Xiaoyuan was surprised: “You’re not coming?”

She didn’t want to take the bus, nor did she want to spend money on a taxi. She had planned to hitch a ride with Teacher Jiang, but to her surprise, he had no intention of going.

Jiang Bo retorted: “Why would I go?”

Jiang Xiaoyuan: “Wait… You’re not going to tell me you didn’t register, are you?”

“Of course, I didn’t register,” Jiang Bo spun around, his coat hem drawing a graceful arc in the air. He sat down leisurely in the swivel chair, crossing his legs with a smug look on his face. “The so-called ‘Stylist Competition’ is for stylists to compete, not for stylist bosses. Get it? Don’t ask such dumb questions next time. Now go, sweetheart. If you get eliminated, find a rubber band downstairs and hang yourself with it. No need to come back.”

Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”

“Oh, right,” Jiang Bo spun the pen in his hand. “When you get back, I have big news for you. Make sure you sit down first, so you don’t get too shocked.”

 

 

 

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