Magazine shoots require meticulous precision, and with Su Yun being a perfectionist obsessed with details, even with the quickest movements, time inevitably marched to twelve o’clock.

Gu Qichi was alone in the fitting room. He had politely declined the staff member who tried to follow him inside, frowning as he looked at the outfit before him.

The central piece for the shoot was a pure white silk suit. The fabric was soft, the hem extended long, and it felt very thin to the touch. However, over it was layered a cloak made of crane feathers.

Gu Qichi reached out to touch it, raising his eyebrows in surprise. The white egret feathers on it were whole and flawlessly white. Within the fabric of the cloak were shimmering silver threads. Only upon closer inspection could one discover that dark flowers were sewn from a mixture of egret down and silver thread.

Large, shimmering white flowers bloomed upon this crane cloak, holy and elegant.

Gu Qichi took off his T-shirt, revealing shocking red marks underneath. He sighed helplessly and put on the white suit.

Fortunately, Bo Yu had retained a shred of reason yesterday. Under Gu Qichi’s repeated insistence, the other party hadn’t left any obvious marks on his neck or shoulders. But like a dissatisfied large dog, unable to find an opportunity there, Bo Yu had taken fierce revenge on other places.

The silk shirt fabric was exceptionally thin, soft against the skin. Through the faint translucency, hickeys and bite marks hidden below the collarbone could be seen. Like a frolicking puppy, no corner had been spared. The hem of the shirt was tucked into loose, wide-legged suit trousers.

His figure was excellent—not overly frail, nor overly muscular. A thin layer of six-pack abs covered his muscles, and the smooth V-line went all the way down. The suckled marks continued without pause, disappearing right into the root of his thighs.

That red mole was a disaster zone.

Gu Qichi’s mouth twitched, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. His slender, pale fingertips rested on the metal belt buckle, making a crisp click. Gu Qichi put on the suit jacket, picked up the cloak, and walked out of the dressing room.

The stylist took out the silver-white wig and began applying Gu Qichi’s makeup.

Gu Qichi’s skin was cold white enough to glow; almost any foundation applied to his face would be a shade darker than his neck. Fortunately, his skin was extremely fine, with almost no visible pores, though the dark circles under his eyes were a bit heavy—evidence of staying up very late yesterday.

After covering the dark circles with concealer and applying a simple base with powder, the stylist thought for a moment.

Gu Qichi’s eyes were standard peach blossom eyes: inner corners sharp and pointing down, tails hooking up. When he lifted his eyelids to look at you casually, it created an illusion of tenderness and deep affection.

But his gaze was clear, like a frozen lake stretching for thousands of miles—crystal clear, with ceaseless north winds and unstoppable flying snow.

“Let’s try a faux-frostbite makeup look. I think it will suit him very well. The main tone of the eyeshadow will be red, with purple highlights at the inner corners to deepen the allure of his eyes. White eyeliner at the tails of the eyes to sketch the shape of snowflakes.”

The stylist thought briefly, roughly explained her idea, and began communicating with Su Yun.

The original makeup plan used earth tones to deepen the eye contours and highlight the profundity of the model’s face. But that look was designed largely based on the original choice, Gu Yuning, and didn’t suit Gu Qichi.

His facial features were far superior to Gu Yuning’s. Ideas meant to fix Gu Yuning’s facial flaws were useless on him, and even an insult to Gu Qichi.

“The previous plan indeed doesn’t suit him well. He is better suited to highlighting his own superior facial features. After all, his face is too superior; it’s hard not to notice it.”

Su Yun pondered for a moment, then immediately decided: “Go with the new plan. I trust your aesthetic.”

As the model, Gu Qichi had no objections.

During the makeup application, Bo Yu had pushed the door open and entered at some point. He stood not far away, and with his excellent eyesight, he could observe Gu Qichi’s face clearly in the mirror.

The young man’s skin belonged to the overly pale category. Without foundation, not only were there no blemishes visible, but the natural texture of the skin was highlighted. His features were exquisite: eyes hooking inward and curling upward, deep eye contours, a high nose bridge. The transition between the root of the nose and the brow triangle was extremely smooth and natural. The three-dimensionality of the T-zone seemed to rise from the ground up, yet without appearing crude—exquisite and beautiful.

It was the mixed-race and three-dimensional look that many internet celebrities pursued through plastic surgery nowadays.

Gu Qichi’s T-zone was simply too superior, a level hard for many to achieve even with surgery. This was why people online always attacked him for having plastic surgery on his whole face; it was hard to believe the Creator would be so partial to one person, giving him all the advantages.

Yet the temperament on Gu Qichi was extremely contradictory—the cold aloofness of a flower on a high peak coexisted with soul-hooking allure. At first glance, you might frown, but thinking carefully, these traits appearing on him seemed perfectly normal.

Bo Yu thought lazily that Gu Qichi was indeed the most suitable candidate for the “First Snow” theme.

He was like that first snow, snowflakes falling thick and fast from the sky, burying high mountains and flowing waters, burying verdant pines and cypresses. Under the desolate, cold white moonlight, snow covered everything, and the slightly salty sea breeze brought moisture condensed into ice crystals—biting and bone-chilling.

…

“Does Teacher Gu usually do any skin management? Your skin is really good, better than most people in the industry. It’s among the top tier.”

The makeup artist was using tweezers to stick tiny rhinestones under his eyes. Being extremely close, she could even see the tiny fuzz on his skin, prompting her to ask a few more questions.

It’s best not to move while eye makeup is being applied, so Gu Qichi answered her question with his eyes closed: “I rarely do medical beauty treatments. I just usually sleep a lot and don’t stay up late.”

The makeup artist gave an understanding “Oh,” her hands never stopping.

Only when the makeup and hair were completely done did Gu Qichi open his eyes.

He was facing the mirror directly, so upon lifting his eyes, he crashed straight into Bo Yu’s ink-dark, turbulent gaze.

Gasps of surprise rose one after another in the studio. Even Bo Yu was no exception, a look of amazement appearing in his eyes.

The makeup effect with eyes closed was completely different from when they were open.

Deep red eyeshadow smudged out at the tails of the eyes, transitioning from red to purple from front to back. Glittering star diamonds were pasted at the inner corners and the aegyo-sal (under-eye fat). White eyeliner interwoven with red sketched the eye shape. White mascara was brushed onto his eyelashes, and several clusters of white false lashes were added. When his eyelashes fluttered, there was a fragility that made one want to ravage him.

Hexagonal snowflakes made of crushed diamonds were pasted at the tails and under the eyes. Heavy blush swept across the tip of his nose and cheeks simulated the look of winter frostbite.

His dark hair was completely covered by a silver-white wig. It was real hair bleached with dye, excellent in texture and not cheap looking. He wore no hair accessories, exuding a natural beauty like ice and snow.

Around his neck was jewelry provided by the brand, strung with pearls and diamonds. It was extremely dazzling, yet because of his face, the brilliance of the jewelry was forcibly ignored.

Su Yun was flipping through magazine covers from previous months. The moment she saw Gu Qichi clearly, her critical gaze turned into undisguised admiration and fervor: “Too perfect. Some people are born for fashion.”

Seeming to think of something, she looked annoyed, turning back to whisper a complaint to the photographer: “I regret it. I should have signed him for next year’s opening cover. I bet this issue will explode in popularity, maybe even exceed supply…”

Usually, if Su Yun said this, the photographer would have scoffed. After all, Gu Qichi was just an unknown D-list celebrity; Su Yun giving him the cover treatment was already rare favoritism.

Youth was a well-known men’s magazine domestically. The treatment for an opening cover usually went to at least a popular B-list star; a D-lister like Gu Qichi couldn’t possibly reach that high.

But Su Yun wasn’t wrong. Some people were born for fashion. Gu Qichi didn’t need to do anything; just standing there was enough to capture everyone’s gaze.

They really should have signed Gu Qichi for the opening cover. It would have fired the first shot for Youth in the new year, and won beautifully.

---

S City was a coastal city with mild seasons. Even in the dead of winter, it remained as warm as spring; snow was basically impossible.

The snowy scenery for this shoot was set up in advance, so Gu Qichi didn’t need to go outside to experience real ice and snow.

Gu Qichi was taken to the shooting area. The indoor lighting was sufficient. Artificial snow fell from above, and the extremely dreamlike scene was fully recorded by the camera.

Gu Qichi was barefoot. The metatarsals on the top of his pale feet strained into clear lines; pale blue veins intertwined and extended like winding flower branches, disappearing into the trouser legs of his suit. His ankle bones protruded delicately, his Achilles tendons extremely thin and long, his tightened calf lines lean but perfectly proportioned.

The shutter clicked incessantly. Snow-white, blinding flashes flickered constantly before his eyes.

The photographer was directing: “Bring that bunch of white eustoma from the vase and hand it to him.”

“And the crushed ice prepared earlier, don’t let it melt.”

Gu Qichi held the eustoma handed by the staff, its fragrance elegant. The photographer zoomed in: “Gu Qichi, bite a petal and tear it gently.”

Snow fell thick and fast around him. Gu Qichi’s eyelashes trembled; besides the white mascara, they caught a few “snowflakes.”

His crimson eye tails hooked upward. The mirror glaze on his lips had worn off slightly; the bright, sticky gloss stained the pure white eustoma, dyeing the edges of the petals red.

The lens froze the moment. He looked like a forgotten spirit in the snow, possessed of an untainted, fairy-like aura.

The photographer, however, wasn’t quite satisfied. This shot was beautiful, but it felt like something was missing.

The torn flower was delicate and fragile, sharing a similar wonder with Gu Qichi himself…

The photographer frowned, pondering slightly, and inadvertently glanced at a man behind the studio set.

Broad shoulders, narrow waist—no less handsome than Gu Qichi.

The emotion in that man’s eyes was too blunt, staring straight at Gu Qichi under the lights as if he wanted to tear him apart and devour him.

Didn’t Gu Qichi’s assistant say he was just a security guard? How dare he look at his artist like that? The photographer withdrew his gaze, mulled over the young man in the lens again, and a sudden flash of inspiration struck his mind.

It was worldly desire!

What Gu Qichi’s eyes lacked was that kind of worldly desire!

His gaze was too indifferent, holding no resonance with the flower in his hand. Yet the crimson spreading from his eye tails and nose tip perfectly matched the look of peak desire.

Like a flower blooming to its extreme, forcibly plucked, its petals crushed, trembling as it spat out bright floral juices, which were then smeared back onto the intact pure white petals inside.

The photographer had an idea: “Gu Qichi, you need to lie in this snow, and then express your desire.”

Desire?

This request was truly rare. Gu Qichi had always been good at catching the camera, with strong expressiveness, but hearing this request, he inevitably froze for a moment, a blank look appearing in his eyes.

He moved the eustoma away, lips parting as he murmured, “Why…”

This request was really too strange. Didn’t first snow symbolize the arrival of purity and coldness?

Gu Qichi believed his interpretation wasn’t wrong, that it was even completely on topic.

The photographer shook his head and gestured: “I want a completely new feeling. The first snow is broken, ice crystals melt, nurturing new life and hope…”

Gu Qichi was rarely stunned, trying hard to think about the description.

Bo Yu, hearing the description, glanced impassively at the photographer.

As a man, Bo Yu could understand what the other was thinking almost instantly.

This request was actually easy to achieve. Bo Yu only needed to help a little, and he could complete this shoot smoothly.

But Bo Yu didn’t want to.

Gu Qichi covered in the color of desire—that look should only bloom passionately in the darkest, thickest night.

This flower watered by desire was cultivated by his own hands, and should be picked by his own hands.

But Gu Qichi moved too fast. He lowered his eyes, staring at the eustoma in his hand. His gaze inadvertently caught a glimpse of his shirt hem being pulled up by the continuous movement, exposing the red marks on the skin of his waist to the eye.

Fortunately, no one was diagonally behind him. Gu Qichi raised his head, calmly turned a distinct angle, tucked the loose shirt back in, then lifted his eyelids. His gaze was clear and cold, yet because of the color at the tails of his eyes and his upturned, moist lashes, an inexplicably teasing charm was born.

He saw Bo Yu trying to hide.

Four eyes met, exchanging a silent message.

Gu Qichi raised an eyebrow: Why hide? Am I unpresentable?

Bo Yu stopped his retreating steps, frowning, opening his mouth silently, then closing it again.

Gu Qichi glanced at the photographer, then at Bo Yu, thoughtful.

Suddenly thinking of something, the corners of his lips slowly hooked into a smile.

Brilliant and dazzling, yet hiding a bit of wicked intent.

He turned his head and asked Su Yun, “Is there red wine here?”

Naturally, there was red wine. This job had a high degree of freedom; sometimes idle, sometimes busy as hell. When there was no work, everyone wandered around corners, but when busy, they wished they could work around the clock—borrowing clothes, borrowing jewelry, finalizing planning themes, contacting suitable artists, and setting up scenes.

Any of these tasks was enough to make one’s head spin, so everyone had a habit of spending the night here. There was a small cubicle in the studio with a fridge chilling red wine Su Yun had brought.

Su Yun crossed her arms. Upon hearing his request, she propped her chin with her fingertips and raised an eyebrow slightly: “There is, but I want to know your use for it.”

Gu Qichi’s lips sketched a smile. The eustoma in his fingertips twirled a few times, petals trembling.

Gu Qichi: “Doesn’t the photographer want me to present a posture of desire? I think I need it very much.”

Su Yun was noncommittal, then let her assistant take Gu Qichi to get the wine.

Bo Yu stood in the corner. The light and shadow here were dim, falling desolately on him, giving him a sense of uninhibited decadence.

Luo Qianqian sat on a black leather chair, admiring Gu Qichi’s shoot.

It seemed he had worried too much before; Gu Qichi wasn’t nervous at all. The only nervous one might be her. Gu Qichi’s fashion expressiveness was superb. His limbs were extended, posture loose, but not the slouching kind of sloppy.

His shoulders were broad; even in a casual posture, his spine remained straight. The suit jacket was draped idly over one shoulder. The slightly protruding line of his collarbone pressed against the silk shirt; because the fabric was thin, the line of his butterfly bone loomed beneath the shirt, offering a different kind of charm.

Suddenly, Luo Qianqian felt the air pressure around her drop significantly. It was chilly, cold enough to give her goosebumps all over.

She turned her head to find the source of the cold and saw the frowning Bo Yu.

He looked very unhappy. His brow bone was high, nose bridge straight, and the drop between them created deep eye sockets. The fat on his eyelids was just right—not too thin to look old. His narrow phoenix eyes were lowered, half his face shrouded in shadow, making his emotions unguessable.

But it was easy to guess what he was thinking, simply because Bo Yu’s resentment was practically spilling out.

Like a large predator whose precious prey had been stolen, a deep, biting oppression pressed down heavily, carrying a sharp arrogance that disregarded everything else.

Luo Qianqian withdrew her gaze thoughtfully, shifting it back to Gu Qichi, who had obtained the red wine.

In the previous photos, he had worn the crane cloak woven from egret feathers, but now he had taken off all outerwear.

The shirt itself wasn’t designed with buttons, but was a satin style with a wide-open neckline.

His thin, fragile collarbone bent, outlining a small patch of shadow.

Gu Qichi suddenly looked up, his expression contemplative: “Is this outfit I’m wearing expensive?”

Su Yun was stunned, then shook her head: “The most expensive part of this set is that feather cloak. The prices of the rest are acceptable.”

She quoted a price. Gu Qichi nodded in understanding and said lightly, “I might do something that damages this outfit, but I will buy it after the shoot ends. Of course, I really like that cloak, and hope for a chance to own it.”

His gaze was sincere; it was obvious he genuinely liked the clothes.

Su Yun pondered for a moment. That jacket was a work by a designer she liked very much, and could actually be considered part of her private collection. Unfortunately, she never had the chance to wear it out—or rather, she couldn’t pull off the look herself.

Editor-in-Chief Su frowned imperceptibly and offered a kind reminder: “This outfit is very expensive because it’s handmade haute couture.”

Unexpectedly, the other party didn’t mind, only repeating: “I like it very much, and I can tell you like it very much too. Taking someone’s love is indeed presumptuous, but I hope—and I hope you hope too—that it can achieve greater value.”

The scales in Su Yun’s heart teetered. She sized Gu Qichi up a few more times before finally saying, “Okay, but I have a condition.”

Gu Qichi got what he wanted, and the smile on his face became much more sincere. “Sure, but I might not have what Editor-in-Chief Su wants.”

Su Yun shook her head firmly. Her judgment had always been accurate; she had never misjudged anyone: “After you become famous, I hope Youth will be your first choice.”

Gu Qichi turned his head. Under the interplay of silver-white hair and white eyelashes, he appeared somewhat transparent, as if naturally lacking color in his body.

He hadn’t expected Su Yun’s request to be this. He couldn’t help asking back, “Editor-in-Chief Su, I’m just an unknown D-lister. It’s hard to get famous.”

Su Yun shook her head at his words, the smile on her face confident and flamboyant: “My judgment won’t be wrong. Gu Qichi, you will definitely be a big hit; it’s just a matter of time.”

Gu Qichi laughed very lightly, shaking the red wine in his hand at her: “I’ll take your auspicious words.”

The implication was that he agreed to her request. After he became a big hit, Youth would be the first magazine he shot for. Su Yun turned sideways in satisfaction, letting Gu Qichi walk back to the shooting area.

Seeing him return, the photographer and lighting technician readjusted the lighting setup to ensure the flow of light and shadow.

The cork of the red wine bottle was pulled open. The natural scent of wood mixed with the rich aroma of wine, forming a very peculiar fragrance.

Gu Qichi had a good tolerance for alcohol. After communicating his idea to the photographer and confirming the other was satisfied, he lifted the bottle directly and poured it down his throat.

Before chugging the wine, his gaze kept drifting toward Bo Yu, seemingly absentminded but intentional, like a cat extending its claws to provoke—pampered and noble.

Bo Yu had tormented him for so long yesterday, claiming he was punishing him. If Gu Qichi didn’t strike back a little, he would be doing a disservice to the tears he was forced to shed yesterday.

Bo Yu watched him mouth four words silently:

He said: “Bo Yu. Look at me.”

His pale neck stretched straight, like a dying swan extending its neck, drawing a clean, sharp arc. The red wine poured down his throat, swallowed rapidly. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, the movement clearly visible.

After chugging about half the bottle, Gu Qichi stopped. He lazily lifted his eyelids, then nonchalantly aimed the bottle mouth at his collarbone and poured slowly.

The naturally formed hollow of his collarbone caught a pool of wine, but it couldn’t hold much. A significant amount of wine flowed along his collarbone onto his chest, the scarlet color soaking the white silk shirt.

Amidst the rise and fall of his movements, the soaked fabric clung to his body, making the outline of his abs loom visibly.

Immediately after, Gu Qichi picked up a bunch of eustoma from the work table and poured the red wine right into the flower’s center.

The petals of the eustoma were layered, blooming in a spherical shape, but it wasn’t suitable as a “bowl”; it couldn’t hold liquid.

The wine filled the gaps between the petals, then dripped down through them, sliding through the gaps between Gu Qichi’s fingers, slightly sticky.

His fingers were pale, knuckles small and exquisite. His fingertips supported the stem of the eustoma, but his pads and knuckles were stained dark red.

The lines of the knuckles on the back of his hand were clear. Blue-purple veins lay dormant under pale skin, while dark red meandered down, looking just like flowers blooming on blue blood vessels.

Silent extravagance blooming in the dark night.

Gu Qichi cast a slightly provocative glance at Bo Yu and casually handed the wine bottle to a nearby staff member.

He used the white eustoma as a wine glass. Scarlet wine rolled like dewdrops on the petals as Gu Qichi bit down on them.

In the studio, silent enough to hear a pin drop, Gu Qichi left a crisp sentence: “Shoot.”

Soft lips stained with dark red wine, white teeth biting petals of interlaced red and white, a trail of water flowing from the corner of his lips.

The floral scent of eustoma, the aroma of wine, and wisps of woody fragrance mixed together, making it impossible to distinguish whose scent was better.

In this moment, Gu Qichi no longer looked like a spirit in the snow, but a vampire luring people into deep traps.

His desire-filled eyes were accurately captured by the photographer, eliciting an explosive gasp of admiration.

But if one looked closely, they would discover the gaze had a tangible landing point.

Squarely and unbiasedly, it fell on Bo Yu in the corner.

In this moment, only Bo Yu could understand the meaning in his eyes—

Look, Bo Yu, my desire is born for you.