Chapter 134 The First Submission of the Design Draft
A male mating display?
The moment those words left her mouth, it was like a punch to Rufus's gut.
His face, twisted with rage, instantly froze into an absurd blank expression.
The air around them grew heavy. All the noise faded away, leaving only Cecilia's cold, disgusted eyes clearly reflecting his current state of embarrassment and loss of control.
Rufus's body shook violently.
"You!"
A broken syllable squeezed out of his throat. All the harsh words that followed were blocked in his chest, unable to come out.
Cecilia didn't give him a second glance. She turned and walked away. Her retreating figure was resolute, without a trace of attachment.
Rufus instinctively lifted his foot to chase after her.
An arm stretched out in front of him, blocking his way.
Stefan stood there, tall and straight, wearing an impeccable business smile.
"Mr. Chapman." He spoke slowly, his tone polite, but every word carried a chill.
"Even losing it has its limits. This is a nationally televised event. Your behavior right now isn't very classy."
Rufus's gaze shifted from where Cecilia had disappeared and refocused on Stefan. His bloodshot eyes churned with hatred and jealousy.
He roughly shoved Stefan's arm aside. The force was so strong that his own body became unsteady.
"Stefan, who are you trying to fool with this gentleman act?" Rufus let out a low, hoarse laugh, his voice full of mockery. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to! You stole my woman, caused me trouble behind my back, and now you want to talk to me about being classy?"
Rufus stepped forward, almost getting in Stefan's face. His voice dropped extremely low, full of threat.
"You'd better think carefully whether you and that woman you're protecting can handle the consequences of pissing me off."
Not only did Stefan not back away, he met his gaze and chuckled softly.
"Consequences? Mr. Chapman, you don't seem to understand the situation."
"She's not an object that can be stolen. She's my business partner, and you're her past tense. A man's greatest weakness is using the past and threats to tie down a woman who no longer belongs to him."
"As for everything I've done to you," Stefan's smile deepened, but his eyes turned ice-cold, "I welcome you to pay me back double anytime."
He paused, then added another line.
"If you're still capable of that."
Rufus stared at him for several seconds, his chest heaving violently, his jawline tense. Finally, he suppressed the urge to get physical right there.
He spun around abruptly and strode out.
The drama finally came to an end.
Only then did Stefan turn around and walk toward Cecilia, who had finished the registration process and was waiting in the waiting area.
The design competition lasted half a month, divided into five elimination rounds, each one extremely demanding.
From the official start of the competition, all contestants had to stay in individual design studios provided by the production team during the day, creating under the full recording of cameras.
Only at night could the contestants briefly have free time.
This tested not only the designers' professional abilities but also their psychological resilience and ability to handle pressure.
Cecilia, holding her contestant badge numbered "108," found her assigned studio.
It was a pure white, semi-open space with a simple drawing desk, complete tools, and in the corner, a camera with a flashing red light indicating it was recording.
She placed her badge on the desk and calmly scanned the room.
National live broadcast.
The stage Stefan had built for her was magnificent, but also filled with deadly danger.
Win, and she would rise to the top in one step, becoming the sharpest blade in his hand.
Lose, and she would be shattered to pieces, becoming a laughingstock for Rufus and countless spectators.
She had no way back.
Cecilia pulled out the chair and sat down, taking a deep breath and clearing all distracting thoughts from her mind.
She picked up her brush, spread out the paper, and prepared to warm up by sketching a few live landscapes to relax.
In that moment, the noise outside the window, the prying of the camera lens—everything was stripped from her awareness.
In her world, only the rustling sound of the pen tip against paper remained.
In front of the camera, she tilted her head slightly, revealing a slender neck.
Sunlight streamed through the glass window, casting a soft glow on her focused profile.
Her hand was steady, the lines smooth and precise. Sometimes she sketched quickly, sometimes she paused to think. Every movement revealed a calm and determined strength.
Cecilia drew very seriously, completely immersed in her own design world.
But at this very moment, the comment section of the online streaming platform had exploded.
"Who is this number 108? She's so beautiful! Is she really a designer? Isn't she a celebrity?"
"The camera loves her! It's shot like an art film—every frame could be a wallpaper!"
"Am I the only one who noticed her hands? So delicate and slender, and her drawing movements are so professional. It's pleasing to watch."
"Just for her looks alone, I'm following this competition live!"
"Wait, don't you guys think she looks familiar? Isn't she that Amelia from those scandalous news stories?"
"Shit! It really is her! How did she end up in this competition? Isn't she from the Chapman Group?"
"Breaking news! Did anyone record the backstage conflict earlier? She seems to have fallen out with Mr. Chapman and is now standing with Stefan!"
The direction of the comments instantly changed.
Meanwhile, in another studio, Isadora was pondering the first round's theme displayed on the screen.
[Theme: Relics of Tomorrow]
"Relics?" Isadora's lips curved into a mocking sneer. "'Imagine what archaeologists will find a hundred years from now to define our era?' Such a grand theme requiring depth—is she even worthy?"
In Isadora's view, Amelia was just a woman who had climbed onto this stage through her looks and men, with no real ability. She might be able to design some flashy, market-pleasing commercial work, but asking her to contemplate the essence of an era and the weight of history was simply laughable.
Isadora wanted to see what empty, worthless thing Amelia could produce besides that pretty face.
On screen, after seeing the theme, Cecilia pondered for less than ten minutes. Then she picked up her brush and began sketching rapidly on the paper with almost no hesitation.
This action immediately caught the attention of the on-site director, and the main live stream camera immediately switched to her.
Less than an hour into the competition, while most contestants were still struggling with this profound theme, even at a complete loss, Cecilia had already finished her design sketch and stood up to walk toward the submission area.
She became the first person in the entire venue to submit her work.
"That fast? This theme isn't as simple as 'flowers' or 'love'—it requires understanding of an entire era!"
"Just showing off. Trying to get attention by being the first to submit. The design itself must be terrible."
"What could an influencer with no real ability understand about the spirit of an era? She probably just drew a phone case."
Whispers full of doubt rose all around.
Cecilia's design, along with a few other hastily completed drafts, was placed before the panel of design masters on the judges' bench for the first round of screening and scoring.
One of them—a white-haired judge highly respected in the design world, Sidney Lawson—casually picked up Cecilia's drawing.
With just one glance, an unmistakable look of amazement appeared on his previously calm face. He even unconsciously sat up straighter and brought the drawing closer.
"Interesting, very interesting." He murmured softly, his eyes gleaming with the light of discovering a treasure.