Chapter 67 Choosing a Dress

The Dome Suite occupied the top floor of the mall, a three-hundred-square-meter circular space.

The regional managers of four blue-blood brands, along with their head tailors—over a dozen people in total—stood in a row, holding their breath. On the circular clothing racks hung haute couture gowns, arranged by color, flown in just a few days ago from Avenue Montaigne in Paris.

Jiangs Mother took her seat in the center of the main sofa, her legs elegantly crossed. The PR manager, showing great tact, served her a cup of warm tea.

"Begin," Jiangs Mother said, taking a sip of tea and slightly lifting her eyelids.

A dozen or so of the store's prized treasures were wheeled out to the center one by one.

Director Jiang Ning stood with her arms crossed, leaning casually against a nearby Roman column.

Instead of watching the clothes selection, her gaze drifted past the rows of intricate skirts and landed on Song Shishi.

The girl's eyes couldn't take it all in; one moment she was touching the beadwork on one dress, and the next, she was examining the hem of another.

After diving into the racks for ten minutes, she walked out holding an early autumn haute couture piece from Chanel.

It was champagne-colored, a French strapless style, with an irregular tulle-stitched hem and handmade crushed diamonds adorning the waist. It was the quintessential sweet, light luxury style.

"I'm going to try this one on!" Song Shishi hugged the dress and darted excitedly into the fitting room.

During the wait, the Dior PR director, showing great initiative, walked over to Director Jiang Ning and pushed over a separate clothing rack.

"Miss Jiang, these are a few sets our director specifically reserved for you. This deep-V backless starry sky dress will definitely complement your skin tone."

Director Jiang Ning glanced at it. It was pretty, certainly, but too Western, too ostentatious. If she wore this style to Venice, competing among a crowd of blonde, blue-eyed European movie stars, it would be a step down.

"I don't like it." Director Jiang Ning flicked through the rack with her fingers, her gaze suddenly stopping in a corner.

It was an Armani haute couture piece.

It lacked large areas of sequins or tulle. It was a deep, dark cyan, made of top-tier heavy silk. The neckline was a modified Chinese stand-up collar, following the lines of the shoulders and neck down to a tightly cinched waist. There was a high slit on the right side, and the inner layer of the skirt was embroidered with subtle, freehand ink-wash bamboo leaves in silver thread.

Cold, restrained, yet exuding an inherent Eastern aesthetic.

"Take this one out." Director Jiang Ning pointed with her fingertip.

Just as she spoke, the fitting room door opened.

Song Shishi lifted the hem of her skirt and stepped out cautiously.

The champagne tulle made her already fair skin look even more translucent. The strapless design perfectly showcased her full curves and delicate collarbones. The skirt fell to her knees, leaving her straight, well-proportioned calves exposed to the air, while she wore a pair of silver strappy high heels.

Innocent, bright, a blend of purity and desire.

A few faint gasps of breath echoed through the hall.

Jiangs Mother set down her teacup, a flash of admiration in her eyes, and nodded with satisfaction: "Shishi looks lovely in this. Young girls should dress with a bit of charm."

Holding her skirt, Song Shishi didn't pay attention to the praise from those around her; her eyes immediately locked onto Director Jiang Ning, who was leaning against the column.

Director Jiang Ning straightened up and walked over with her long legs.

The distance closed.

Song Shishi's breathing hitched slightly as she looked up at her.

"Does it look good?" Her voice hid a hint of imperceptible anticipation.

Director Jiang Ning didn't speak immediately. Her gaze swept from Song Shishi's brows down to her neckline. The edge of the strapless bodice was a fraction off, and the hidden clasp at the top of the invisible zipper in the back didn't seem to be fastened properly.

"Turn around." Director Jiang Ning's voice was low.

Song Shishi turned around obediently.

A large expanse of her fair, creamy skin was exposed to the air. Director Jiang Ning took a step forward, and the distance between the two instantly shrank to less than ten centimeters.

Director Jiang Ning's slender fingers covered her back, her cool fingertips unavoidably brushing against her warm shoulder blades.

Song Shishi's back stiffened suddenly.

"Don't move."

Director Jiang Ning whispered, her fingertips precisely pinching the hidden clasp at the top of the zipper, and with a "click," it fastened.

Afterward, her hand didn't immediately withdraw. Instead, she moved it upward, her thumb gently brushing the edge of the red carnelian necklace in the hollow of Song Shishi's neck, straightening the crooked four-leaf clover pendant.

Her warm breath sprayed unobstructed onto the back of Song Shishi's neck, sending a fine shiver through her.

"Very beautiful."

Director Jiang Ning's voice sounded right against her ear, audible only to the two of them.

Song Shishi's earlobes turned bright red instantly. Her heart hammered violently in her chest; she bit her lower lip, turned around, and glared at Director Jiang Ning with her large, watery eyes, a ripple of light dancing in their depths.

This person was simply a demon; in front of everyone, she did the most leg-weakening things.

"It's your turn." Song Shishi forcibly suppressed the palpitations in her heart and pushed Director Jiang Ning's arm, trying to distract herself. "Go try on the one you picked."

Director Jiang Ning took the opportunity to grab her wrist, squeezed it, then turned, picked up the Armani haute couture piece, and walked into the fitting room.

Ten minutes of waiting.

The entire Dome Suite was surprisingly quiet. The executives from the various brands whispered among themselves, secretly speculating whether this top socialite from the Yangtze River Delta could pull off that notoriously difficult-to-wear Eastern custom piece.

"Click."

The fitting room door lock popped open.

Director Jiang Ning pushed the door open with one hand and stepped out slowly.

The air froze completely in that instant. All breathing and whispering were abruptly cut off.

The dark cyan heavy silk flowed down along her excellent bone structure. The Chinese stand-up collar clung seamlessly to her slender, swan-like neck, pushing the sense of asceticism to the extreme. But following the cinched waistline downward, the high side slit swayed with her steps, her dazzlingly white long legs appearing and disappearing within the dark skirt.

The moment she turned around, the view of her back was fully revealed.

The deep, large U-shaped backless design presented her deep spinal groove and perfect shoulder blades without reservation.

The silver-threaded bamboo leaves on the inner layer of the skirt refracted a cold, hard, dim light as she walked.

Cold, fair skin. Fox-like eyes. Eastern freehand aesthetic.

Without any extra jewelry, she simply stood there, and with an extremely domineering posture, perfectly blended Eastern mystery and restraint with modern, ultimate sexiness.

Song Shishi stood where she was, completely stunned.

She even forgot to breathe, her eyes fixed unwaveringly on Director Jiang Ning, while a sense of amazement and an extremely secret possessiveness surged wildly in the depths of her eyes.

Too beautiful.

Beautiful enough to make one want to hide her away, not letting anyone else outside see her.

"Good."

Jiangs Mother was the first to break the deathly silence. This wealthy socialite, who had seen countless people, had slightly glistening eyes; she stood up directly from the sofa, her tone full of pride.

The brand executives around them finally snapped out of their daze, quickly crowding forward, showering her with compliments as if they were free.

Director Jiang Ning let the compliments go in one ear and out the other. She lifted her skirt, walked through the crowd, and went straight to Song Shishi.

The girl still maintained that stunned expression, her mouth slightly agape.

Director Jiang Ning curled the corner of her lips into a roguish smile and leaned over slightly.

Bringing her cheek close.

"Come back to your senses."

"You're about to drool, Miss Song."

Song Shishi snapped back to reality, her cheeks instantly burning with fire.

In public. A dozen pairs of eyes were watching from not far away.

Embarrassed and annoyed, Song Shishi flipped her wrist, and under the cover of the wide tulle skirt, she precisely touched the patch of delicate skin exposed on Director Jiang Ning's lower back, pinching it with just the right amount of force.

"Stop being so full of yourself." Song Shishi retorted through gritted teeth in a breathy whisper.

The tingling sensation on her waist made Director Jiang Ning gasp.

On the surface, the two stood side by side with smiles, but their hands beneath the shadow of the skirt were secretly struggling. Their fingers intertwined, exchanging heat.

A sense of extremely secret, thrilling ambiguity quietly sprouted in the luxurious, quiet Dome Suite.