So-Called Karma 22

Moon City upheld traditional culture and placed great emphasis on etiquette. Even the number of vagrants and drunks was noticeably lower here. For the sake of the city's overall appearance, the Yan Family invested funds each year into infrastructure, building apartment blocks in the outer city specifically to house the homeless.

Of course, many people had to share a single room, and those who lived there were expected to work at construction sites. In return, the Yan Family provided them with food and meager wages.

Most people ended up on the streets because they had no fixed shelter and couldn't find work. Without a job, they earned no money, and without money, they could never afford rent—it was a vicious cycle.

The Yan Family's wages were meager, just enough to cover three meals a day. But that was enough. A place to shield them from the wind, food to fill their stomachs—for these people, that was already sufficient.

The work wasn't easy, but at least they could survive.

The Yan Family's reputation in Moon City was excellent, and they were held in high regard.

If you stopped random passersby and asked their opinion of the Yan Family, most answers would be positive: "Though they are a conglomerate, they're different from the other families."

"A conscientious entrepreneur—they deserve to earn more."

"Moon City owes its development to the Yan Family."

The city's mayor was none other than the Yan Family patriarch, Yan Wen.

The big screen in the central plaza was playing a news interview with him.

This head of the Yan Family was middle-aged, but he looked surprisingly young. He sported a pencil mustache, gold-rimmed glasses, and a white Tang suit, appearing quite refined. Fine lines at the corners of his eyes became more pronounced when he smiled.

His skin was smooth and firm, his nose bridge high, and he had a pair of peach-blossom eyes. Altogether, he exuded a steady elegance that came with age and experience.

His speaking tone was also gentle, unhurried. He didn't sound like a mayor or a businessman, but rather a poet who found solace in nature.

When the host brought up his achievements over the years, he would smile, his voice mellow. Even amplified through the square's speakers, it remained pleasant and undistorted. Many young people couldn't help but pause and look up, some even voicing private thoughts that weren't quite appropriate for public spaces.

On the list of the most popular people in Moon City, Mayor Yan Wen had always held the top spot by a landslide.

Yan Xianchuan also glanced up at her so-called cheap father. Objectively speaking, his appearance left nothing to be desired; otherwise, he couldn't have produced a daughter with looks like hers.

Almost no one in the top-tier families was ugly—they selected the finest genes. Even if a child took after the parents' worst features, they wouldn't be truly unattractive, just not exceptionally good-looking.

But in Yan Xianchuan's eyes, that face was the epitome of repulsiveness. She felt not a shred of affection for this cheap father and absolutely refused to acknowledge his identity.

She averted her gaze without expression and waited quietly by Lu Mingqiu's side for her to finish signing autographs.

Public popularity was a strange thing. Some people, driven by vanity, would make grand claims and fabricate lies to cultivate an air of superiority and uniqueness.

They loved being adored, praised, and admired. They took falsehood as reality, deceiving others and even themselves.

Yan Xianchuan had no particular opinion on this behavior. If she wanted to give a socially savvy reply, she'd say: Everyone has the right to live however they choose, and no one else has the right to judge. As long as they're happy and have no regrets, that's enough.

But if she spoke her true feelings, it would be just four words: None of my business.

However, when the subject changed from strangers to someone at her side, her rhetoric changed entirely.

She would say that Lu Mingqiu being adored was perfectly natural and inevitable. Anyone with eyes would necessarily, absolutely, and certainly fall for her because Lu Mingqiu was that wonderful.

Lu Mingqiu crafting a persona was justified—it served a noble purpose without a trace of selfishness. Her use of esper power was merely supplementary, accelerating the process. Even without the ability, her brilliance was enough to achieve the same result.

She was simply that perfect, and all she received was her due.

Still, Yan Xianchuan thought sulkily: If only these people wouldn't stand so close for photos.

Just then, another girl with an excited expression walked over. Yan Xianchuan edged aside to give her space, but the newcomer cried out, "Don't leave!"

"Don't go—can I take a photo with both of you?" she said eagerly. "I'm a shipper of your CP!"

Hearing this, Lu Mingqiu's eyes lit up knowingly. She reached out and pulled Yan Xianchuan back, smiling. "Alright."

The girl dragged her camera around, trying several angles, but couldn't find one that satisfied her. She stole timid glances at Yan Xianchuan, as if wanting to speak but hesitating.

Yan Xianchuan: "What do you want?"

The fan seemed relieved, rapid-firing her words: "Um, could you maybe smile a little?"

Yan Xianchuan stared at her for a moment. The girl broke out in a cold sweat, but still wore a look of determination, glaring back.

This was the stubbornness of a CP fan!

Lu Mingqiu genuinely laughed out loud this time—it was rare to see Yan Xianchuan put in a tight spot.

Seeing her smile, Yan Xianchuan reconsidered: Well, this person has good taste. I'll be gracious and oblige.

So she curved her lips upward, while her gaze unconsciously drifted back to the other's profile.

The fan seized the moment, snapping over a dozen shots in quick succession. Then she stood beside them and took two more.

Beaming, she looked at the photos in her hand and said, "You two must stay together forever!" With that, she scurried off in delight.

What could possibly be better than a fan's beloved CP getting married? Nothing!

She squeezed out of the crowd, clutching her treasured keepsake, the more she looked the more excited she got—nearly breaking into a street dance on the spot.

In the photos, Yan Xianchuan's gaze was deep with affection, so thick with love that even a dog would blush.

Shipping the real couple was this satisfying! She quickly went to show off her new photos in their chat group, immediately summoning a horde of squealing fans spamming only exclamations.

After seeing off that fan, Lu Mingqiu said with a smile, "Let's stop taking photos for now, everyone. Sorry about that."

The crowd didn't grumble. They dispersed in an orderly fashion.

Moon City's civil quality was indeed the highest of any town. The city was also known as the City of Etiquette and the City of Culture; this scene was proof enough.

The two had already put on their sunglasses, but a fan had recognized Lu Mingqiu and asked for a photo, drawing a crowd.

After the crowd dispersed, Lu Mingqiu didn't let go of Yan Xianchuan's hand. "Do you prefer a minimalist style or something more ornate?" she asked.

"I'll leave it to you," Yan Xianchuan said.

"The Yan Family values tradition, so traditional-style clothing with a modern twist would be best—you can't go wrong with that," Lu Mingqiu considered. "Let's check out Qiu Shi first."

Qiu Shi wasn't some big brand; it was a small studio. The designer was young, a rising talent with a flair for matching and always brimming with novel ideas.

Lu Mingqiu had sharp fashion sense, and she didn't need to cling to brand labels. Given her status and fame in the entertainment industry, she had long since outgrown the need to dress in luxury brands to enhance her image.

Thus, her horizons were broader.

She also liked to use pieces by up-and-coming designers, giving talented individuals a chance to move up—a vision close to her heart: a world where opportunity wasn't limited by a ceiling of concrete.

In the central plaza, there was a district dedicated to clothing brands and studios. Entering it, you'd see shop windows filled with eye-catching garments draped on plastic mannequins.

Some were highly conceptual, with oversized silhouettes—like wearing planets, impossible to actually walk outside in. Others seemed to spread gardens across skirts, layers of flowers, breathtakingly beautiful. Still others were extremely minimal—two straps and a plain dress—yet the fabric's color was stunning, like a handful of flowing light.

Anyone who could open a studio here was no ordinary talent.

Qiu Shi's storefront wasn't large, just over a hundred square meters, but it had a great location on the ground floor of the main street. The outer area sold ready-to-wear and saw a steady stream of customers; the inner room was the workspace, where all those imaginative ideas came to life in just over ten square meters.

When they entered the shop, several customers were browsing. Lu Mingqiu didn't call out or make a fuss; she walked straight to the small door leading to the workspace and knocked twice.

The door swung open, and a woman in—well, in strips of cloth—poked her head out, letting out a silent 'oh.' Once they were inside, she cried out, "Sister Qiuqiu! What brings you here?"

"Miss Yan, hello! Please, have a seat, have a seat!"

She spun around in a circle, pulled out a chair from under a pile of jumbled fabric, then dashed to the other side to drag out another from behind a sewing machine. As she pushed the chair back, she also kicked aside a heap of cloth strips in her way.

"Sister Qiuqiu, it's been over a year since we last met, hasn't it?"

"A year and a half," Lu Mingqiu said with a smile. "Last time was at the Golden Hummingbird Film Festival when I asked you to design a gown."

"Achuan, this is Nian Zhong, founder of Qiu Shi Studio."

The designer named Nian Zhong had her hair in a messy bun, held not by a hairpin but by a pen. Seeing her full form up close, Yan Xianchuan realized she wasn't wearing cloth strips—just a loose white T-shirt covered in little swatches of fabric: various greens, blues ranging from deep to light, and bright yellows and pinks.

It made her look like a peacock in full display.

"Hello," Yan Xianchuan greeted.

Lu Mingqiu continued, "I came to you again for dress designs—for both of us. For a banquet. Nothing too grand—simple and elegant will do."

The two had very different looks, but their features and proportions were flawless—they were born clotheshorses.

Designer Nian Zhong circled them twice, eyes blazing with such intensity they seemed to burn, muttering under her breath.

She mumbled for a bit, then suddenly jumped up, bustled out the door, and ran off.

"The dummy's gone to find the dummy!"

Yan Xianchuan was startled, glanced around, and found the source of the voice behind a tailor's mannequin—a parrot in a cage, pacing on a perch. It clacked its curved beak and said, "What are you looking at? Speak!"

"It's a parrot," she said in surprise.

When she was young, Yan Xianchuan had once wanted to raise a parrot because these birds could mimic human speech. In her imagination, she could voice the words she couldn't say aloud due to social niceties—let the parrot say them for her.

Even insults, coming from a bird's mouth, wouldn't cause trouble. And if someone took offense with the bird, she could say: It's just a beast—it doesn't even know what it's saying.

This was her clever solution after long days of being unable to lash out or break rules.

In the end, she never got one. Her parents, learning her real reason for wanting a parrot, told her she didn't have to bottle herself up so much.

The social rules they taught her were, on the surface, to prevent her from hurting others, but in truth, they worried she might be ostracized and harmed if she acted out.

Their intent was to protect her, not to make her swallow her feelings—that would have been putting the cart before the horse.

"Its name is Bread," Lu Mingqiu said, walking over. "It's quite clever."

"I've changed my name!" the white-crested parrot flapped its wings and threw its head back. "I'm now King!"

"Oh," Yan Xianchuan said, her eyes brightening. "You look mighty impressive."

The parrot lowered its head, tapped its empty food bowl, and chirped, "Well? Bring tribute to King?"

"What do you want to eat?" Yan Xianchuan looked at the empty trough.

"I want spicy hot pot!" The parrot tilted its head and announced loudly.

"This parrot has a mental problem—it wants spicy hot pot," Yan Xianchuan said seriously. "I'm leaving. My mom told me never to talk to fools."

"Stop! Stop!" The parrot flapped about in its cage. "I want peanuts!"

A faint, cunning smile tugged at Yan Xianchuan's lips. "Oh? Peanuts, huh. But I don't have any."

"Get that dummy over here! Dummy!" the parrot squawked. "You're useless!"

Yan Xianchuan turned to Lu Mingqiu and shamelessly tattled, "It says I'm useless."

Lu Mingqiu couldn't stop laughing. She pretended to think, then said slowly, "Then we won't give it peanuts."

The parrot was stunned.

Yan Xianchuan gloated.