trct_45

Chapter 45: The Fashion Illustration

The last time Ji Qingzhou had used that tone was when he'd been pleading with him to write out the calligraphy for his shop's name cards.

Jie Yu'an immediately guessed that he must have something he wanted to ask of him again, so he settled comfortably back on the sofa and said calmly, "Say what you have to say."

Though he knew the other couldn't see him, Ji Qingzhou instinctively put on an amiable smile whenever he had something to ask of someone, his tone unusually gentle: "Would you be willing to model for me once? I'd like to draw a fashion illustration of you."

"What?" Even though he'd known whatever he was about to propose likely wouldn't be anything ordinary, hearing that he wanted him to model still left Jie Yu'an somewhat taken aback.

"To boost my chances with the submission to the 'Shanghai Daily,' I want to draw a piece of menswear that most illustrators don't pay much attention to."

Ji Qingzhou said honestly, "And you're the best-proportioned person I've ever seen, and also the one who most matches my aesthetic taste. So I want to use you as a model to create a fashion illustration. Don't worry, this piece is only for the review, it won't actually go into the paper."

Jie Yu'an's brow twitched slightly; the request left him quite conflicted, but what the other had said did sound genuinely sincere...

After a few seconds' thought, he pressed his lips together and said, "Why should I help you with something like this?"

"So you're saying no?"

"Does it matter whether I agree or not? The pen's in your hand, I can't exactly stop you."

Ji Qingzhou made a sharp intake of breath: "What kind of person do you think I am? Do I really seem that unprincipled to you?"

"You even know the meaning of the word 'principled'?"

"No point talking when we're not on the same page." Ji Qingzhou pursed his lips and simply closed his sketchbook. "Since you won't cooperate, I suppose I'll just have to go to the shop tomorrow and get Zhu Renqing to model for me instead."

"......" Jie Yu'an frowned and asked, "Didn't you say only I could handle this?"

"That's right. You and Zhu Renqing have completely different presences. A design based on your particular looks and bearing can naturally only be modeled by you."

Ji Qingzhou said this as if it were only natural, "But by the same logic, clothes designed for Zhu Renqing would only suit him best too, isn't that easy enough to understand?"

"Playing word games?"

"If you insist on misunderstanding it that way, there's nothing I can do about it."

The corners of Jie Yu'an's mouth dipped slightly. He considered in silence for a moment, then said, "What's in it for me if I help you?"

Hearing his resolve wavering, Ji Qingzhou's tone softened: "What could a small tailor shop owner like me possibly offer someone like Young Master Jie? At most, once I have time, I could make up this outfit I design for you and give it to you. You're bound to have some banquet or function to attend eventually anyway, it'll come in handy sometime."

"You think I'm short on clothes?"

"So are you agreeing or not? Could you stop stalling?"

Jie Yu'an still wanted to play hard to get a bit longer, but hearing him start to press, he feigned composure instead: "Name your price."

"Name what price?" Ji Qingzhou was puzzled for a moment, then it dawned on him—he'd agreed to the proposal of making him an outfit afterward as payment for his labor, and was even planning to pay the custom-made fee for it!

In an instant, this flipped Ji Qingzhou's impression of Jie Yu'an as a sharp-tongued, difficult person—he suddenly felt this man was actually quite honest and generous. Just from this alone, he really was a friend worth getting to know better.

"No rush on the payment, we'll settle up once I actually start making it. Who knows, fabric prices might go up by then anyway," Ji Qingzhou said this, though in truth he simply couldn't be bothered to do the math right now.

"But don't worry. I'm an honest businessman, I won't charge you a single cent extra."

Jie Yu'an didn't seem to care about this point, and simply asked, "How do you want me to pose?"

"Just stand up first, stand there for a bit, however you like." Ji Qingzhou didn't dare ask too much of him. Once Jie Yu'an had gotten to his feet, he flipped open his sketchbook and picked up his pencil.

Just as he was about to properly observe Jie Yu'an's figure and features to draw out inspiration, he noticed the man had walked over beside the cabinet and simply stood there, perfectly still and upright, his whole body radiating an unnatural stiffness.

What was this guy so nervous about? Wasn't he usually so good at putting on airs?

Acting all high and mighty every single day, and now that he was actually needed for something, he suddenly turned all awkward and fumbling?

"What are you doing? Standing at attention?" he couldn't help asking.

"......" Jie Yu'an did in fact feel somewhat embarrassed. Though all was pitch black before his eyes, he could almost sense the other's gaze resting on him, and that soon it would move over each detail of his body, one by one, to be sketched down with a pen.

Just imagining this was deeply uncomfortable enough on its own.

Ji Qingzhou clicked his tongue softly, unable to bear watching him hold a pose as stiff as a wooden pole any longer, so he got up, walked over, and pressed a cane into his hand.

Having a prop to hold would at least help him relax a little.

He then took hold of his arm and led him over to the window, saying in a light tone, "Just lean against the window frame here, relax a bit. Think of something happy, or something you're looking forward to."

Jie Yu'an did as told, leaning back against the window frame, though he replied absentmindedly, "There's nothing."

"There must be something," Ji Qingzhou thought for a moment, then said, "How about I buy you some crispy fish tomorrow?"

"You think I'm as much of a glutton as you?"

"Didn't you enjoy it plenty last time? Fighting over it with Luo Mingxuan, the half a jin of crispy fish we bought ended up entirely in you two's stomachs."

Jie Yu'an turned his head aside, somewhat at a loss for words, but his expression and posture immediately relaxed a great deal.

Seeing this, Ji Qingzhou immediately sat back down on the sofa, picked up his sketchbook and pencil, and began studying him intently.

Jie Yu'an's head-to-body proportions were truly outstanding—a small head, broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a long, slender build.

Though his long legs were hidden beneath his loose pajama pants, judging by the slight bend of his knees, the ratio of his calves to thighs was nearly equal, and his calves might even be a touch longer than his thighs.

A build like this was practically a natural clothes hanger—no matter what he wore, everything fell into balanced harmony, giving a visual impression of remarkable elegance and ease.

This made designing clothes for Jie Yu'an both simple and not simple at all—precisely because he suited everything, and looked good in anything, it became difficult to make a designer's skill stand out.

Ji Qingzhou mulled it over for a while. In this Republican era, the fashion most commonly worn and best accepted by men was still the Western suit; anything too avant-garde, he worried, might be hard for the newspaper staff to accept or understand. So he decided to design a suit for Jie Yu'an after all.

Considering that his wardrobe was already full of closely-fitted, crisp and elegant English-style suits, he decided to design a style not yet present in his closet.

Yes—an Italian style, with soft, flowing lines, would work well.

A loose-cut double-breasted suit, the shoulder line not too stiff, with a luxurious, business-appropriate peaked lapel for the collar. The fabric had to be refined and neat enough, matte but with good drape, so that it would trace flowing, water-like curves as he moved...

For the shirt collar, he'd go with the simplest ordinary turn-down collar, paired with a traditional dark diagonal-striped tie—composed and refined without losing its dignity.

As for the suit's color, he could choose a crane-grey close to black—appearing black in shadow, but taking on a subtle metallic sheen wherever light struck it.

If needed later on, a chocolate-brown overcoat with smoothly flowing shoulder lines could be added over it, topped with a top hat, to complete an autumn-winter ensemble.

As Ji Qingzhou studied Jie Yu'an, he glanced down now and then to draw, quickly sketching out the outline of a man in a suit on the page.

Then, without lifting his head, he said, "That's enough, come sit back down."

Jie Yu'an was somewhat surprised by his speed. As far as he knew, painters' models often had to hold a single pose for an hour or more, and he'd only stood there for a bit over ten minutes.

Had Ji Qingzhou really finished drawing that quickly? Had he actually put in the effort?

Somewhat doubtful, he returned to his seat on the sofa, reached out for the celadon cup on the tea table, and took a sip of water.

Once Ji Qingzhou had roughly settled the suit's silhouette, he moved his pen up to the part of the drawing above the man's neck.

The details of the clothing could be worked out later—since Jie Yu'an was sitting obediently before him right now, letting him use him as reference, he naturally had to finish the face first.

Following the other's current hairstyle, he drew a side-parted, combed-back head, then slender, slightly arched eyebrows, a high, straight nose bridge, lips neither thick nor thin with little curve to them, a sharply defined facial contour...

When it came to the eyes, he hesitated slightly before putting pen to paper.

He'd only ever seen the other's expression with his eyes closed, and as it happened, he wasn't especially skilled at rendering that kind of detailed gaze either—closed eyes were actually easier for him to draw. So that was how he drew them.

Jie Yu'an, listening to the occasional soft scratching sound nearby, felt rather curious about how he'd been drawn.

After another ten-odd minutes, hearing the pen strokes across from him stop, he couldn't help asking, "How far along is it?"

"Basically done. I'll fill in the details tomorrow and add color, and that'll be it."

Jie Yu'an gave a soft "mm," then suddenly felt a pang of wistfulness.

He had no idea when he'd finally get to see this drawing for himself.

Ji Qingzhou, looking at the noble, cool-mannered portrait of the man on the page, was feeling quite pleased with himself. Hearing him respond, he glanced up and only then vaguely sensed that Jie Yu'an's mood seemed a bit somber at the moment.

He thought it over briefly, then added, "Let me describe it for you. In the center of my clean white paper, there's a composed, dignified, elegant man. He's wearing a loosely cut, straight-silhouette suit, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cane, his head tilted down at a forty-five-degree angle, eyes lowered, as if counting ants on the ground."

"I wouldn't do something so pointless."

"Just as an example. Could also be feeding pigeons, checking his reflection in a pond, or just standing idly by the roadside, waiting for someone he's about to meet."

Though his description was brief, it was quite vivid and evocative, and a similar scene immediately rose up in Jie Yu'an's mind.

Of course, influenced by today's events, the person who showed up in the scene that followed was, unsurprisingly, some careless young man in a white shirt.

Though he couldn't see his face, he could be certain the man was holding a bag of braised chicken feet.

At this thought, Jie Yu'an's mood suddenly lifted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward slightly before he flattened them out of habit.

After a moment, he asked, seemingly casual, "When are you going to start making it? Do you need to take measurements?"

"Still a ways off. If I made it now you couldn't even wear it yet, I'll make it for you once the weather starts turning cooler."

Ji Qingzhou offered this offhand reassurance, set the sketchbook and pencil down on the tea table, stood up, and yawned, saying, "Going to take a bath. If you're tired, go ahead and sleep first."

Listening to his footsteps recede, Jie Yu'an pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling as though he'd been strung along, an inexplicable heaviness settling in his chest.

.

Wangping Street, the 'Shanghai Daily' office.

By lunchtime, golden sunlight spilled across the street, and Yuan Shaohuai, who had been busy working through the night, had only just gotten up.

Wearing a dark grey long robe, he yawned as he came down the stairs and went to a nearby food stall for a bowl of pork rib noodles for lunch.

When he returned to the office, he stopped by downstairs to pick up the day's mail as well.

Though it might not even have been a full day since the last mail pickup, the nature of newspaper work meant they received an enormous amount of mail every single day.

This included manuscripts sent in by others, readers' heartfelt outpourings or complaints, minor news and gossip submissions, as well as some personal letters and the like.

He held a thick stack of envelopes and letters under one arm, glancing down at the senders' names as he climbed the stairs.

Suddenly, a letter with an unremarkable exterior but printed with the full name of the Jinfeng Group caught his eye.

This name was quite renowned among the locals—just seeing those few characters was enough to stir a bit of envy, and to make one assume that whoever had sent something using this envelope must work in the upper ranks of the Jinfeng Group, likely a well-educated, well-paid, respectable person.

But then, when he glanced at the sender's name, he found himself puzzled.

"This is Brother Ji's illustration submission? Why would he use a Jinfeng Group envelope? Isn't he the clothing shop owner? And he also works for the Jie family?

"Wait, Jie Yu'an... Jie?" Only now did Yuan Shaohuai suddenly recall the blindfolded man who'd come to visit that day, could he possibly be a member of the Jie family?

That air, that bearing—it really was quite possible!

"Well now, Brother Xin's friend turns out to be from the Jie family, how deep those waters run..." he muttered under his breath, pulling out this envelope first. Once upstairs, he set the rest of the stack of letters down temporarily on the table in the common area.

Then, with practiced motions, he used a ruler to slit open the seal and drew out the illustrations inside.

Four sketches lay folded together; unfolding them, the first thing that met his eye was a slender, graceful young woman.

She wore a celadon-colored, long, waist-fitted qipao, draped with a snow-white openwork lace shawl, her black hair coiled low into a bun and pinned with two jade hairpins, white high-heeled Mary Jane shoes on her feet, and a small embroidered brocade purse in her hand—a truly warm, elegant, and beautiful lady.

Yuan Shaohuai felt his heart struck at once by the woman's noble, gentle bearing and poise, and all the grogginess from moments before instantly washed away, leaving him half-wishing he could climb right into the picture, even just to be this lady's shoeshine boy.

In truth, judging purely by the level of refinement, this illustration fell far short of the work of those professional calendar-poster artists—it could even be called crude, hardly better than a rough sketch.

And looking closely, the model's body proportions were also seriously out of balance, clearly exaggerated in no small measure.

Yet, inexplicably, this piece of work—one where even the facial features were rendered quite roughly and simply—somehow brought out the young woman's refined bearing all the more vividly, striking the viewer as remarkable while also, strangely, beautiful.

He couldn't help clicking his tongue softly, privately marveling that this Mr. Ji really did have some talent after all, while flipping eagerly to the next one with anticipation.

The first was a classical beauty with a warm, gentle bearing; in the second illustration, the young woman transformed into a refined, capable queen.

She wore deep grey eyeshadow, her lips a reddish-brown, chin lifted, dressed in a black suit-dress with exaggerated proportions, the shoulders crisp and structured, both hands on her hips, emphasizing an extreme, flamboyant waist-to-hip ratio. On her head sat a black cocktail hat tilted at an angle, and on her feet, a pair of slender-heeled leather shoes.

The overwhelming impression she gave off was sharp and imperious—one felt as though they might be trampled underfoot the very next moment.

Yuan Shaohuai didn't dare linger long, and quickly flipped to the next one, his eyes lighting up again at once.

The young woman in the third illustration shone so brilliantly she barely seemed of this mortal world. She wore an extravagantly gorgeous gold, full-skirted gown, its boat neckline showing off her pale, slender neck and delicate collarbones. Both the bodice and skirt were adorned with flower ornaments coiled from golden ribbon, and the voluminous skirt seemed to be built up from who knew how many layers of gauze—one might suspect a whole person could be hidden inside without anyone noticing.

To Yuan Shaohuai's eye, this piece was pure fantasy work; it was hard to imagine anyone actually making such a dress—entirely impractical, and probably impossible to even walk in once worn.

Of course, that didn't stop it from being beautiful in its own right.

As for the fourth illustration, that one was even more curious.

This drawing depicted, of all things, a man in a Western suit, his figure tall and slender, his manner composed and refined.

Looking at the man in the drawing, Yuan Shaohuai felt a faint sense of familiarity, but couldn't quite place it for the moment.

Not that it mattered much—he wasn't especially interested in handsome men anyway, so he immediately flipped back to the first illustration, clicking his tongue in admiration at the qipao-clad woman in the picture.

How had he managed it? The brushwork was clearly quite simple, the color layering not especially rich either—so how could it be so beautiful?

Yuan Shaohuai mulled it over for a moment, and gradually came to realize that the truly elegant, refined quality in this illustration didn't actually seem to come from the female model herself.

Cover up the clothes, and what remained of the head became rather plain and unremarkable; but cover up the model's face, and the outfit alone remained just as wonderful, impossible to look away from.

"Oh, so that's how it is..."

Just as Mr. Ji himself had said—what he'd drawn truly was a fashion illustration meant to highlight the beauty of the clothing itself!

This realization struck him with delighted surprise, and he immediately went back to examine the other sketches again.

So it was that when Qiu Wenxin came in to work, he found the office's youngest colleague standing dazed by the table, a few sketches in hand, shaking his head and clicking his tongue one moment, nodding and smiling the next, utterly absorbed.

"Shaohuai, has Mr. Jiangzuo's manuscript arrived? Are you reading it that intently?"

Mr. Jiangzuo was the pen name of the author of the martial arts serial currently running in the paper, and whenever his manuscript arrived, Yuan Shaohuai would always read it over several times, utterly captivated.

"Ah, Brother Xin," Yuan Shaohuai turned and, seeing it was Qiu Wenxin, immediately waved him over. "Come take a look, quick. Mr. Ji's illustrations have such a distinctive style. I've never seen a beauty illustration with such a striking approach before, it's practically founded a whole new school of its own!"

"That impressive?" Qiu Wenxin, curious, took the sketches from him and looked through them carefully.

Yuan Shaohuai, like an eager promoter, watched his expression from the side, and when he reached the third sketch, couldn't help saying, "Well? Isn't it something special? The concept is unique, and the technique even more so—it's startling at first glance, but the more you take it in, the more flavor it has. Definitely a style ordinary people would struggle to imitate!"

"It really is good—this truly is a fashion illustration!" Qiu Wenxin nodded, but when he reached the last one, he suddenly let out a puzzled "Huh."

Qiu Wenxin rubbed his eyes, making sure he wasn't seeing things.

Wasn't this Jie Yu'an?

Those slender brows and eyes, that cool, austere bearing, that expression stern and proud yet carrying a touch of reserved rigidity—surely this was Jie Yu'an, wasn't it?

How strange, how strange—what on earth had Ji Qingzhou offered him to get this fellow to model for him?

For a moment, Qiu Wenxin found himself recalling the two of them from their visit a few days before, sitting together with all those little gestures passing back and forth, and a certain thought began forming in the back of his mind.

"Seems like a melon forced off the vine isn't necessarily bitter after all..." he clicked his tongue, murmuring this under his breath.

"What?" Yuan Shaohuai asked, puzzled.

Qiu Wenxin shook his head without answering, gathered up the sketches, and ambled slowly back toward his own desk, saying, "Once everyone's gathered this afternoon, let's put these sketches to a vote and decide whether they pass."

T/N;

1). 'a graceful young woman', 'a classical beauty with a warm, gentle bearing', and 'She wore a celadon-colored, long, waist-fitted qipao, draped with a snow-white openwork lace shawl, her black hair coiled low into a bun and pinned with two jade hairpins, white high-heeled Mary Jane shoes on her feet, and a small embroidered brocade purse in her hand—a truly warm, elegant, and beautiful lady'. The following are sketch and dress generated by AI based on the description for reference:

2). 'a refined, capable queen', 'she gave off was sharp and imperious—one felt as though they might be trampled underfoot the very next moment', and 'She wore deep grey eyeshadow, her lips a reddish-brown, chin lifted, dressed in a black suit-dress with exaggerated proportions, the shoulders crisp and structured, both hands on her hips, emphasizing an extreme, flamboyant waist-to-hip ratio. On her head sat a black cocktail hat tilted at an angle, and on her feet, a pair of slender-heeled leather shoes'. The following are sketch and dress generated by AI based on the description for reference:

3). 'She wore an extravagantly gorgeous gold, full-skirted gown, its boat neckline showing off her pale, slender neck and delicate collarbones. Both the bodice and skirt were adorned with flower ornaments coiled from golden ribbon, and the voluminous skirt seemed to be built up from who knew how many layers of gauze—one might suspect a whole person could be hidden inside without anyone noticing'. The following are sketch and dress generated by AI based on the description for reference:

4). 'a composed, dignified, elegant man', 'an Italian style, with soft, flowing lines', 'He's wearing a loose-cut double-breasted suit, the shoulder line not too stiff, with a luxurious, business-appropriate peaked lapel for the collar. The fabric had to be refined and neat enough, matte but with good drape, so that it would trace flowing, water-like curves as he moved', 'For the shirt collar, he'd go with the simplest ordinary turn-down collar, paired with a traditional dark diagonal-striped tie—composed and refined without losing its dignity', 'As for the suit's color, he could choose a crane-grey close to black—appearing black in shadow, but taking on a subtle metallic sheen wherever light struck it', 'a chocolate-brown overcoat with smoothly flowing shoulder lines could be added over it, topped with a top hat, to complete an autumn-winter ensemble', 'one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cane', 'his head tilted down at a forty-five-degree angle, eyes lowered, as if counting ants on the ground', and 'a side-parted hairstyle, combed-back head, then slender, slightly arched eyebrows, a high, straight nose bridge, lips neither thick nor thin with little curve to them, a sharply defined facial contour'. The following are sketch and dress generated by AI based on the description for reference:

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