Nancy closed the curtains of the apartment, turned on the desk lamp, and wrote down today's findings in her notebook.
"Corsican Family" with a question mark behind it.
She bit the pen cap, recalling the man who called himself Leon Corsica three days ago. His ice-blue eyes seemed to be able to see through people's hearts, yet they were unfathomable.
The phone suddenly vibrated, and she almost jumped up in fright.
It was Marta, her Italian roommate.
"Nan! Guess what? Professor Luca recommended you to participate in the Milan Young Designer Competition!" Marta's voice was so excited that it almost pierced her eardrums. "This is a springboard to directly meet the top management of LVMH Group!"
Nancy gripped her phone tightly, her chest warming. She had long coveted this competition; the winner would not only receive an internship at Paris Fashion Week but also a €50,000 creative fund.
"Luca really recommended me? I thought he would choose Anna..."
"Anna's designs are too commercial, but your ink painting series amazed him." Marta lowered her voice. "But there's a problem. Participating requires sponsorship. You know, to ensure that the contestant has the financial ability to complete the series..."
Nancy's heart sank.
The money left in her account was only enough to cover the tuition for the next semester, which was far from enough to meet the 30,000 euro deposit required for the competition.
After hanging up the phone, Nancy took out the black business card from her wallet. The moment her fingertips touched the card, a chill ran down her spine.
She shook her head and stuffed the business card back into the compartment.
"There's always another way..."
The next morning, Nancy went out an hour earlier than usual.
She wore a dark grey hoodie and carried a canvas bag, looking like an average college student.
But when she walked out of the apartment building, she "accidentally" dropped her hairband on the ground. The moment she bent down to pick it up, her eyes glanced across the street.
Sure enough, a black Audi stopped next to the cafe, the window slightly lowered, revealing half of a man's face.
The man quickly looked away as she stood up, pretending to read a newspaper.
Nancy continued walking calmly, her heart beating faster. She deliberately took a detour, passing through the crowded Central Market, and suddenly accelerated at a busy corner, slipping into the back door of a second-hand bookstore.
Ten minutes later, she came out of the front door of the bookstore, blended into a group of Japanese tourists, and successfully shook off the tail.
"It seems Mr. Corsica is very interested in me." Nancy bit her lip and thought. Being followed by the mafia should be terrifying, but strangely, she felt more angry—like being treated as prey.
On weekends, Nancy went to the Milan Chinese Community Center as usual. This was her unwavering schedule during her two years in Italy – teaching children to draw.
Today she is preparing for a basic ink painting class.
"Teacher Nan!" Seven-year-old Mia rushed over and hugged her legs. "Look at the cat I drew last week!"
Nancy squatted down and carefully admired the little girl's childish painting. "The composition is very creative, especially the cat's whiskers, which are very vivid."
She patiently guided a dozen children in mixing ink and using brushes. The classroom was filled with laughter and occasional exclamations - when Nancy demonstrated how to draw a bamboo joint in one stroke, the children's eyes widened.
After the class, Mrs. Lin, the community director, stopped her and said, "Nancy, recently a gang has been coming to collect 'protection money' and threatening to smash up the store if we don't pay. Everyone's scared... You know a lot of people, do you have any suggestions?"
Nancy frowned: "Is it useless to call the police?"
Mrs. Lin smiled bitterly. "They hide when the police come, and become even more aggressive when the police leave. I heard the Corsican family is behind this..."
The name made Nancy's fingers tremble, and the teacup almost fell out of her hand.
On the way home, Nancy deliberately took the brightly lit avenue.
She always felt that there were eyes staring at her in the dark, but she looked back several times and found nothing unusual. Until she turned into the alley below the apartment building, a tall figure walked out from the shadows.
Nancy instinctively stepped back and reached into her bag to grab the pepper spray.
"Miss Nan, don't be nervous." The person who came was not Leon, but an Italian man in his early thirties, dressed in a suit and tie, with proper manners. "I am Marco Bettini, assistant to Mr. Leon Corsica."
"What on earth do you want to do?" Nancy did not let down her guard. "First you followed me, and now you're blocking my door?"
Marco gave an apologetic smile. "Mr. Corsica sent me to apologize. I followed you to ensure your safety, but I obviously offended you." He handed over an envelope. "This is a small token of your gratitude, sir."
Nancy didn't answer: "I don't accept 'kindness' from strangers."
"Mr. Corsica admires your design talent." Marco took back the envelope and exchanged it for a card. "He heard you need a sponsor for the designer competition and hopes to provide assistance."
On the card was a handwritten invitation, the address was "Il Gattopardo", one of Milan's top restaurants, and the time was 7 o'clock tomorrow night.
"Tell Mr. Corsica that I appreciate his kindness, but..."
"The gentleman also said," Marco interrupted her, "about issues concerning the Chinese community. Perhaps you could discuss this."
Nancy's pupils shrank slightly. This was clearly a threat.
"I'll think about it," she finally accepted the card. "But I can't promise I'll go."
Marco bowed slightly and turned to leave.
Nancy stood under the street light, staring at the gold-plated card, feeling a conflict within herself.
The next evening, Nancy stood in front of the wardrobe, hesitating.
Dressing too elaborately would make her look like she was taking the meeting seriously, but dressing too casually might anger the dangerous man.
She ultimately chose a simple black dress, accessorized with the jade pendant her grandmother had left her—both a talisman and a reminder to stay sane.
At seven o'clock sharp, Nancy stepped into the "Il Gattopardo" restaurant. The light from the crystal chandelier cast a shadow over the vintage murals. The well-dressed upper-class people chatted in low voices, and the silverware clashed against the porcelain, making a crisp sound.
"Miss Nan." The foreman came forward and said, "Mr. Corsica is waiting for you. Please follow me."
The door of the private room at the innermost side of the restaurant was pushed open, and Leon Corsica stood up.
He was wearing a dark blue suit today, with his shirt collar slightly open, revealing a faint scar on his collarbone.
In the soft lighting, he looked more like a gentle and easy-going businessman than a mafia boss.
"Thank you for coming." Leon pulled out a chair for her, his movements impeccably graceful. "You're more punctual than I thought."
Nancy sat down and straightened her back. "Mr. Corsica, why don't we get straight to the point? Why do you want to sponsor me?"
Leon raised the corners of his lips slightly. "Straightforward. I appreciate that." He gestured for the waiter to serve the food. "First of all, I do appreciate your design. Secondly, I need a reasonable reason to meet with you."
"Because I saw something I shouldn't have seen that night?" Nancy lowered her voice.
A hint of surprise flashed across Leon's eyes, then turned into admiration: "You are smarter than I thought. But that's not the only reason." He took a sip of red wine, "I have investigated you, Miss Nan. You are a top student at Zhejiang University, a recipient of a full scholarship from Marangon, and a volunteer teacher in the Chinese community... How could such a talented and kind girl be so calm at a mafia execution scene?"
Nancy clenched her napkin. "My grandfather lived through a special period in China. He taught me that in some situations, the best reaction is no reaction."
"Interesting." Leon leaned forward. "Tell me, what else did your grandfather teach you?"
"Enough to keep me alive." Nancy looked him straight in the eye. "Mr. Corsica, regarding the sponsorship..."
"30,000 euros in deposit, plus 50,000 euros for production costs," Leon said easily. "In exchange, I hope you can design a dress for me."
Nancy raised an eyebrow: "Is it that simple?"
"Of course there are some additional conditions." Leon tapped the table lightly with his fingertips. "First, report to me on your competition preparations every week. Second, accept the security personnel I designate. Third..." He paused, "Never lie to me."
Nancy felt a chill run down her spine. These conditions seemed reasonable, but in reality, they were pressing, and would ultimately bring her completely under his control.
"What if I refuse?"
Leon smiled: "Then the protection fee issue in the Chinese community will probably become more…tricky."
Nancy's nails dug into her palms.
She should have expected that he would use this to blackmail her.
"I need time to think about it."
"Of course." Leon signaled the waiter to bring the dessert. "But the registration deadline for the competition is in three days, isn't it?"
Tiramisu was placed in front of Nancy, with her Chinese name written in icing sugar on the cocoa powder. This detail made her heart tremble - he even investigated her Chinese writing method.
"Why me?" Nancy couldn't help but ask, "There are so many designers in Milan."
Leon stared at her, his eyes suddenly becoming deep. "Because there's a quality in your design—soft on the surface, tough on the inside. Like…" He searched for a suitable metaphor, "a blade wrapped in silk."
At the end of dinner, Leon put his coat on her himself.
This seemingly gentlemanly action made Nancy tense up all over - his fingers brushed across the back of her neck lightly, like a silent declaration.
"Marco will pick you up at ten tomorrow morning to visit the studio," Leon said. "I hope to get your reply then."
On the way back to the apartment, Nancy's thoughts were in a mess.
Accepting the sponsorship would mean making a deal with the devil, while refusing it could endanger the safety of the Chinese community.
What made her even more uneasy was that in Leon Corsica's eyes when he looked at her, besides calculation, there was also a kind of... infatuation that she was unwilling to admit.
When turning the corner, Nancy suddenly stopped.
Under the street light, a familiar figure was leaning against the car - Marco Bettini.
He walked over quickly and handed her a brown paper bag.
"Mr. Corsica asked me to give it to you."
Nancy opened the paper bag and found a signed sponsorship agreement inside, with the amount blank. There was also a note: "The issue of the Chinese community has been resolved. No matter what decision you make, it will not affect this. - L"
She looked up at Marco. "What does this mean?"
Marco shrugged. "The master never explains his decisions. But as far as I know, those thugs who harassed the Chinese have already left Milan tonight."
Nancy clutched the paper bag tightly, and a hardened corner of her heart softened slightly. Back at her apartment, she spread the agreement on the table and stared at the elegant signature for a long time.
Finally, she picked up the pen and solemnly filled in "30,000.00€" in the amount column, then paused at the signature and wrote her Chinese name: Nancy.
Outside the window, the black Audi slipped silently into the night again. Inside, Leon Corsica looked at the autographed photo uploaded to his phone, a rare, genuine smile playing on his lips.