enjoyebooks Chapter 534 Help! This designer seems to be poisonous.
Chapter 534 Help! This designer seems to be poisonous.
We arrived at the underground parking garage.
Under the cool white lights of its designated parking space, a dark gray Pagani, like a steel behemoth from the future, lies quietly dormant.
The all-carbon fiber body, illuminated by sensor lights, exudes a cool, sharp, and almost otherworldly noble luster, with every line telling a story of ultimate aerodynamics and sculptural aesthetics.
This property comes with its own parking space, and this "mobile work of art" that usually resides in the top-floor garage of Jiangwan City was specially ordered by Ye Fan to be driven over by the Jiangwan City property management company early this morning.
"Wow...honey...this car is so...so cool!"
Chen Wanyu was not unsophisticated; she often heard people in the crew discussing top-tier supercars. However, when she was so close to this Pagani, which was hailed as a "land-based aircraft," the dual impact on her vision and soul made her gasp in astonishment. Her pupils were filled with the mechanical beauty of the car body, brimming with pure shock and admiration.
Ye Fan smiled faintly and gracefully touched the sensor area on the car door with his fingertips.
The iconic gull-wing doors, like the wings of a mythical roc, unfold upwards and outwards in a smooth and ceremonial manner, revealing an interior cockpit that is as sophisticated and luxurious as a fighter jet's cockpit.
He casually took Chen Wanyu's hand, looking at her with a hint of amusement: "We'll use this for transportation today. How about it, want to try it out?"
"No, no, no, no!" Chen Wanyu was so frightened that she immediately withdrew her hand, shaking her head like a rattle in a storm, her face clearly saying "I'd rather not."
It's one thing to pose for beautiful photos in the passenger seat and post them on social media, but what if you actually let her hold that astronomically valuable steering wheel herself?
She was afraid that even breathing might disturb this sophisticated machine.
While the senior flight attendants were chatting, a "terrifying legend" about Pagani suddenly came to mind—the repair bill for a minor scratch could be the sum of her entire career!
Ye Fan was amused by her adorable, cowardly expression, and chuckled softly before giving up.
He took a long stride and calmly and precisely sat down in the highly supportive, custom-made carbon fiber racing seat.
When your well-defined knuckles grip the cool-to-the-touch Alcantara steering wheel, covered with precision buttons and paddle shifters, a primal and pure fighting spirit instantly travels from your palms to your nerve endings.
This is quite different from the tranquility of Rolls-Royce's "magic carpet." It is a direct dialogue with ultimate speed and mechanical control, awakening the dormant desire for conquest in one's blood.
Chen Wanyu held her breath and carefully "squeezed" herself into the equally expensive bucket seat in the passenger seat, her body stiff, as if afraid that even a slight wrinkle would defile the top-quality leather that was as delicate as skin.
"boom--!!!!!"
The moment the engine started, a violent and penetrating roar, like the roar of a sleeping dragon, suddenly exploded, surged, and repeatedly crashed against the walls in the empty garage!
The dark gray phantom roared out of the basement like an arrow released from a bow, leaving only a blurry afterimage on the retina.
The deep roar and the instantaneous burst of acceleration come and go quickly.
Before long, this speed machine, like a tamed beast, came to a precise and smooth stop in the exclusive parking area of Deji Plaza, the undisputed top-tier consumer mecca in Jinling City.
It attracted countless admiring and inquisitive glances from all around.
The two climbed the steps, heading straight for Fendi's understated yet imposing glass door.
Ye Fan's trip was not only to accompany Chen Wanyu in enjoying shopping; he also needed to buy some clothes for himself.
He was preparing to have some clothes custom-made.
Once a customer's cumulative spending reaches a certain amount, the brand will activate exclusive personalized services for them.
This means that top designers will personally take your measurements and have a dialogue with you; it means that the fabrics will be selected from the world's rarest collection; it means that every stitch is made and sewn just for you, creating an ultimate sense of exclusivity.
Ye Fan naturally took Chen Wanyu's hand and stepped into the Fendi store with a calm and composed gait.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ye! Welcome to Fendi!"
The store manager personally greeted them with an impeccable smile that blended respect and enthusiasm, and gave a slight bow: "Your personal designer, Mr. Stephen, has been waiting for you in the VIP room for quite some time. Please follow me."
Guided by the store manager, the two walked through a luxurious area displaying the latest ready-to-wear clothing and rare leather goods, where the interplay of light and shadow resembled an art gallery, and finally stopped in front of a heavy, soundproof wooden door.
The door slid open silently, and a delicate and serene sandalwood scent mixed with the rich aroma of top-quality coffee beans wafted out.
The lounge is softly lit and furnished with understated yet luxurious decor.
On the sofa, a tall, thin man with shoulder-length, slightly wavy hair was looking down at a huge fabric catalog.
He exudes an intense, almost tangible, artistic aura, as if he were walking the Fendi Fall/Winter runway.
"Mr. Ye, this is Mr. Stephen, one of Fendi's top designers worldwide."
The store manager explained, "Next, Mr. Stephen will provide you with one-on-one personalized service."
Hearing the noise, Stephen looked up.
The moment his gaze fell upon Ye Fan, his narrow eyes, hidden behind his gold-rimmed glasses, suddenly burst forth with an astonishing light, like an experienced antique hunter suddenly discovering a priceless masterpiece, or like an artist seeing the perfect muse!
He quickly stood up, his steps almost exaggeratedly elegant as he strode to Ye Fan, his smile as warm and scorching as a flame:
"Bonjour! Mr. Ye! It's my honor to meet you!" His voice carried a deliberately polished, slightly exaggerated London accent.
Ye Fan calmly observed the legendary designer.
Her shoulder-length hair was meticulously tied into a small bun at the back of her head, and behind her gold-rimmed glasses, her eyes, which scrutinized beauty, were as sharp as a scalpel; large, geometric silver earrings swayed irregularly under the light.
What's most eye-catching is his outfit.
A deep purple silk shirt, smooth as liquid metal, with a neckline almost reaching the sternum, revealing an intricate and ornate colorful tattoo that resembles vines entwining around the body.
Her lower body consisted of extremely narrow black velvet trousers that tightly hugged her slender legs; on her feet were a pair of glittering, studded Chelsea boots that reflected an undisguised arrogance.
Whether it was that affected tone of voice or that unconventional, almost theatrical outfit, both made Ye Fan, who was inherently a staunch advocate of simplicity and practicality, feel a strong sense of unease.
He couldn't help but internally rant: In this day and age, to succeed in the fashion industry, do you have to look like you just stepped off an alien spaceship to prove you have artistic talent? Are you sure that wearing clothes with this kind of aesthetic design out in public won't get you a crowd of onlookers who think it's performance art?