122: Chapter 127 From China to the world

"You are the only person at the Place Vendôme dinner who changed the subject from Cartier to her spokesperson. She said you stood in front of a room full of Hollywood people and said—"

" 'The subject should always have been Isabelle.' Later, she texted me saying her watch was touched, and the next day, we wrote that sentence into the brand manual."

Chen Mo said: "That was the truth. I stood in that room wearing that outfit because Isabelle chose to trust me."

At that time, those thirty-something faces were all there for the person she had chosen.

The subject was, of course, her.

Cyril didn't immediately reply. He placed his champagne glass on the railing under the Christmas tree and said he had been in this industry for a long time and had seen too many spokespeople—

Some treated the brand as a stepping stone, while others wore the brand like a medal.

Chen Mo, however, treated Cartier as a partner, knowing that a watch had meaning beyond just telling time.

Chen Mo looked down at the Santos on his left wrist.

"Time is always moving. Those who truly understand time know that time is not an object to be measured—it is something you walk alongside. Every second is synchronized with you, so a good watch doesn't record time; it synchronizes time."

Chen Mo paused, then continued: "Time is a partner, not data."

Cyril was silent for a moment, then said he knew why Jean-Luc had decided to sign Chen Mo on the morning of his first trip to Los Angeles.

It wasn't because of data reports, nor was it because Chen Mo was Chinese.

It was because, before signing the contract, Chen Mo took off his Casio, put it into the Cartier watch box, then put the Alberto Santos-Dumont on his left wrist and said, "Time doesn't stop."

This sentence was written verbatim by Jean-Luc into the endorsement evaluation report, and later, an excerpt from that report was printed on the frontispiece of the brand training manual for new employees this year.

The countdown began, and all the guests counted together—ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

Chen Mo pressed the button.

The exterior wall of the entire flagship store was instantly illuminated by golden lights, and the crowd watching on Fifth Avenue erupted in synchronized cheers and applause.

The Christmas installation in the display window started simultaneously, with the golden panther looking up in a leaping pose.

The cold white spotlights on the dome illuminating Madison Avenue went out in response, and a warm golden tide of light spread from the eaves of the old mansion to the streets on both sides.

Chen Mo took the microphone, waited for the cheers outside to die down, and then spoke: "Merry Christmas. Go home early to be with your families."

The whole room applauded. Cyril nodded gently beside him.

After the lighting ceremony ended, the guests on the first floor gradually dispersed, and Cyril did not go to see off the other guests.

He led Chen Mo to the VIP room on the second floor. The room was not large, the fire in the fireplace was real, and the warm light plated the panther relief on the black marble wall in an amber hue.

He took a deep red leather watch box from his suit's inner pocket; the Cartier double-C logo was printed on the lid, the gold foil glowing dimly in the firelight.

"I thought for a long time about which one to choose, and in the end, I picked one with special meaning."

Chen Mo took the watch box and opened it; inside was a Tank watch.

1. Cartier designed it with the top view of the Renault FT-17 light tank as inspiration, featuring a rectangular case, Roman numeral hour markers, and blue steel sword-shaped hands.

Later, its variants were worn by Jacqueline, Andy, and Princess Diana.

Now it lay quietly on the deep red velvet, with a line engraved on the back: "From New York to the world."

Chen Mo looked at the words, silent for a moment, as the wood in the fireplace gave a slight crackle.

"It should be engraved 'From China to the world.'"

Cyril's reaction slowly turned from surprise to a smile, and he pushed his reading glasses up.

"You are the spokesperson who dares to speak the truth more than anyone I have ever met. We will re-engrave it."

He pulled a fountain pen from his breast pocket and wrote the new engraving on a velvet-lined card next to him: "From China to the world."

The handwriting was scrawled but steady in every stroke.

"After it's engraved, we'll mail it to Los Angeles, or you can pick it up the next time you go to Paris."

Chen Mo closed the watch box and put it back on the coffee table. The two clinked their champagne glasses.

"Thank you."

11/1 Interview, located in a meeting room on the 36th floor of the Manhattan headquarters, with the Hudson River and the New Jersey skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Inside the room, there were only a few gray textured sofa chairs, a white marble coffee table, and a warm-light floor lamp.

Interviewing him was the capable assistant of Anna Wintour from the American edition of Vogue, Lorin. She was in her forties, with short dark brown hair, wearing a black turtleneck sweater and dark gray wide-leg trousers, with no makeup and a pair of rimless glasses.

There was no outline in front of her, only a voice recorder and a cup of unsweetened black coffee.

"You often say 'dont stop.' Have you ever thought about when to stop?"

Chen Mo leaned against the back of the sofa chair, his fingers resting on the armrest, and said: "I have. After I win a Grammy Awards."

Lorin followed up by asking what happens after winning a Grammy Awards.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, and said: "Win another one. After the Grammy Awards, it's the The Oscars for Best Original Song, then the Super Bowl halftime show, then ten consecutive unplugged shows at the Royal Albert Hall..."

Chen Mo paused, drank some coffee, and said: "Then, perhaps in the early hours of some morning, sitting in the recording studio, I'll suddenly feel like it's enough, and then I'll stop."

Lorin asked: "How far do you think that morning is from now?"

Chen Mo said: "Very far, so far that I can't see it. But that's okay. People who like to run don't necessarily need to see the finish line; seeing the road under their feet is fine. I'll run as far as I can see."

Chen Mo brought the topic back to the current event, talking about the Cartier holiday lighting window installation and the Christmas tree covered in crystal panthers last night.

Lorin then asked for his views on "idol responsibility."

He answered very directly: "The greatest responsibility to fans is honesty, the greatest responsibility to music is professionalism, and the greatest responsibility to oneself is health."

Lorin gently placed her coffee cup on the coffee table, was silent for a moment, and then picked up the voice recorder to readjust its position.

"That doesn't sound like something an artist your age could just summarize off the cuff. How did you learn that?"

Chen Mo leaned against the back of the sofa chair, his fingers resting on the armrest, and didn't answer immediately.

"This year in Milan, I was alone. I had just finished a busy period, and my mind was still a mess. I heard an old church nearby start ringing its bells. Before, when I heard bell chimes, my first reaction was to count the beats—what time signature, what key, could I sample it?"

"That day, I don't know why, but I suddenly didn't want to count. The bell didn't ring just to tell time, not for the tourists. It had nothing to do with how high the church dome was or how many circles the pigeons flew in the square—the bronze bell had been hanging there for centuries; it rang because it wanted to."

He took his feet off the crossbar of the sofa chair, leaned forward slightly, and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Later, I realized I had been learning this all along. People who make music easily treat everything as material: hearing rain makes me want to sample it, hearing bells makes me think of beats, and even when I'm tired, I think, 'Should I write a song about exhaustion?'"

"So I'm learning to be like that bell: not doing things for a reason. Being honest with myself is because I don't want to lie to myself. Making music well is because the thing itself is worth doing well. Staying healthy is because I still want to keep singing. It's that simple."

Lorin's pen tip tapped lightly on her notebook, and she asked: "So the bells of Milan taught you three things."

Chen Mo leaned back against the chair and said: "It should be a reminder: don't live your life like a metronome; you need to have your own rhythm."

Lorin asked again: "Are you afraid? Afraid that all of this—the Grammy Awards, The Oscars, the Super Bowl—will turn out not to be what you wanted in the end."

Chen Mo honestly said: "Not being afraid... would be a lie. So I've left myself a way out—"

He imagined the scene and added with a smile: "If that day really comes, I'll go back to my hometown and open a music store, just to teach kids."

Lorin's pen tip paused, and he continued with some details: "The music store would be in the old district of Changsha. The storefront would be very small, with a rice noodle shop next door, and it would only accept cash."

Chen Mo seemed to be truly imagining it, squinting his eyes and saying: "A handwritten wooden sign hanging at the door—those who can play, come in and play a song; those who can't, come in and listen."

He had already thought it all through, then smiled and said: "Hey, why don't you make the headline 'See you at the music store after the Grammy Awards.'"

Lorin gently placed her coffee cup on the coffee table, was silent for a few seconds, and then picked up the voice recorder to readjust its position.

"Chen Mo, you are the only person I have ever interviewed who describes their way out more specifically than their goal. Most people don't dare to mention a way out for fear of appearing weak, but you aren't afraid."