In less than ten minutes, the internet fell into chaos.
The buzz generated by Mo Fei and Zhang Yichen's dual closing walk crashed through every corner of the online world. Headlines spread. Blogs updated by the second. Fans flooded comment sections, reposts multiplied, and every major entertainment account seemed to be talking about only one thing.
"Zhen Fashion House Shocks Industry With Dual Closing Walk: Zhang Yichen and Mo Fei Leave Audience Speechless"
"Mo Fei Returns From Silence and Closes Zhen's Show Beside Zhang Yichen"
"The Prince of the Runway Is Back: Mo Fei's Comeback Walk Breaks the Internet"
On the ride home after the show, Mo Fei sat in the passenger seat, scrolling through Instagram while Louis drove.
His feed was impossible to keep up with.
Bloggers, fashion pages, entertainment news accounts, fan edits, reposts, and thousands of comments poured in all at once. He did not even bother checking his Weibo account. With the way things were going, opening it might freeze his phone entirely.
His follower count had exploded in less than an hour after leaving Zhen Fashion House.
Before the show, he had 11.4 million followers.
Now, the number had climbed past 21.2 million.
Mo Fei stared at the screen.
That was insane.
His comeback walk had truly stunned the internet.
Fans were screaming. Some were crying dramatically in comment sections. Others had already declared themselves fully invested in his return. Strangely enough, even though he had walked beside Zhang Yichen, the icy prince of the industry, the attention had turned almost entirely toward Mo Fei.
It was as if the internet had remembered him all at once.
He continued scrolling through the headlines.
"From Scandal to Standing Ovation: Mo Fei Makes Explosive Return to Fashion"
"Zhang Yichen Shares Closing Stage for the First Time... And With Mo Fei?"
Then one post caught his eye.
"Is the Prince of the Runway Back?"
Mo Fei stared at the caption.
For a moment, something inside him stilled. Then he clicked open the comment section.
If the internet wanted to burn, then fine. He would light the match himself.
Mo Fei tapped the comment box and typed:
I never left.
Then he hit send.
Without waiting to see the reaction, he turned off his phone and looked out the window.
Outside, the city lights blurred past the car like scattered stars while Louis drove in silence.
Mo Fei watched the night pass by, his reflection faint against the glass.
The world had finally started looking at him again. This time, he would make sure they could not look away.
_____________________
Su Feiyu walked through the hallway of her apartment and pushed open the door.
The moment she stepped inside, she shut it behind her.
Her assistant was already waiting in the living room.
"Miss Feiyu…"
The assistant stopped mid-sentence the moment she saw Su Feiyu's expression.
Whatever words she had prepared froze in her throat. She quickly bowed her head.
"I'll leave now and pick you up in the morning."
Without waiting for a response, she hurried out of the apartment and closed the door behind her.
The moment she was gone, the smile Su Feiyu had worn all day cracked.
She kicked off her heels, tossed her handbag carelessly to the side, and walked toward the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she grabbed a bottle of water and twisted it open.
She had done her job tonight. She had won the crowd.
She had won the cameras and the internet once again.
Whenever Zhang Yichen closed a show, Su Feiyu opened it.
That was how it had always been. That was the natural order.
The two main stars of the industry, standing side by side in reputation, influence, and public admiration.
Her phone buzzed.
Su Feiyu lifted it and looked at the notification.
"Su Feiyu Overshadowed by Mo Fei on the Runway"
For a second, she did not move.
Then she threw the phone. It hit the wall with a loud crash and fell to the floor.
"That bastard!" Her scream tore through the apartment.
Then, as quickly as the rage came, it disappeared.
Su Feiyu closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. When she opened them again, her expression had calmed.
The natural order was breaking and she would never allow it.
Earlier that night, she had walked up to Mo Fei with a gentle smile. That was required. That was what the internet loved and adored. Kindness. Grace. The image of a woman who could be warm even to the lowest, most pathetic people.
Su Feiyu knew how to win.
More importantly, she knew how to control the industry.
She had wished Mo Fei well in public. None of it had touched her heart.
Who did he think he was, walking alongside Yichen? Not even she had ever done that.
Yet that bumbling idiot had appeared out of nowhere and stolen her shine.
Fuck him.
Wasn't he supposed to be dead by now?
How did someone survive a fall from the eighteenth floor, crawl through scandal, return to the industry, and then suddenly forget his place?
Wasn't Mo Fei supposed to be timid?
Spineless?
Easy to crush?
Nothing about tonight had shown a timid person.
Su Feiyu had watched him from backstage, from the moment he appeared behind the crowd to the moment he climbed onto the runway. Everything about the Mo Fei she saw tonight had left her shaken.
This Mo Fei was not the quiet fool who walked as though he was afraid of being seen, even though he possessed every ability to shine.
No.
This Mo Fei had pushed beyond his limits.
He had taken the theme of resurrection and made it personal.
And because of that, he had stolen the adoration of the internet and everyone present.
Su Feiyu's fingers tightened around the water bottle. The plastic crumpled beneath her grip.
It was nothing.
The internet did not forget so easily.
And even if it did, that bumbling, clueless, spineless idiot would mess up again.
People like Mo Fei always did.