Chapter 135 This Is Just the Beginning
The sharp-eyed middle-aged judge Damon Whitley leaned over curiously: "Sidney, what's so interesting?"
Sidney didn't answer directly. Instead, he slowly spread the design sketch across the judges' table for everyone to see.
What was drawn on the paper wasn't some high-tech product, nor was it a magnificent architectural wonder.
It was a chip.
A damaged smart chip, eroded by time and half-buried in a fossil layer.
The most brilliant part was how the designer had cleverly deconstructed the chip's circuit patterns and reorganized them into an intricate, melancholic beauty that spread across the entire page. It was both the remains of technology and presented the ancient plant veins of natural weathering.
"Using a chip to record an era isn't a novel approach," Damon commented. "But turning circuit patterns into an epitaph—now that's interesting."
"There's more." Sidney shook his head, pointing his finger at the annotation on the sketch. "Look at this."
The annotation contained only a single short line.
"Storage is its instinct, forgetting is its destiny."
In an instant, the entire judges' table fell silent.
This annotation instantly elevated the entire piece.
It was no longer just a cold chip, but a symbol carrying an entire era's memories and emotions, ultimately forgotten by time. Grand, compassionate, and with a loneliness that struck straight to the heart.
"This contestant number 108, what's their name?" Sidney looked up and asked the staff.
Meanwhile, in the contestants' waiting area.
After submitting her work, Cecilia found a corner seat and sat down with her eyes closed, resting.
The first round of screening would take time. Around her, the space was filled with contestants' anxious discussions and restless pacing. Some were frantically refreshing their phones, trying to gauge the mood on streaming platforms; others gathered in small groups, discussing their design concepts in hushed voices.
The entire space was thick with a restless atmosphere.
Cecilia blocked out all external interference, sinking her mind into complete calm.
She didn't care about others' opinions, nor did she try to predict the outcome. She only needed to ensure that before the next round began, she would be mentally sharp and in peak condition.
The empty seat beside her suddenly sank down, and a familiar presence enveloped her.
Cecilia opened her eyes and turned her head.
Stefan was leaning back casually in the chair, his long legs crossed, relaxed as he watched the contestant information scrolling on the main screen. He looked nothing like someone at a noisy competition venue—more like he was in his own backyard.
"This is the contestants' area," Cecilia responded lightly, only adjusting her posture slightly.
"I know." Stefan's gaze shifted from the screen to her calm face, a low laugh escaping his lips.
"But I'm the biggest investor in this competition."
He turned slightly toward her.
"The organizers are willing to grant me this small privilege."
Cecilia said nothing more.
The world of capital was just that simple and brutal. She was long accustomed to it and couldn't be bothered to comment.
If he wanted to sit here, so be it—as long as he didn't disturb her.
"What are you thinking about?" Stefan's voice was low, carrying a hint of curiosity. "Worried about the judges' scores?"
"No." Cecilia shook her head. "Just resting."
"That confident in yourself?" Stefan's interest deepened. "'Tomorrow's Relics'—that's not a small theme. I'd guess at least half the contestants will draw something related to environmental protection, like polluted marine life or trees wrapped in plastic products."
"Maybe." Cecilia's response was brief and cool.
"What about you? What did you draw?" Stefan pressed.
Cecilia finally turned to face him directly, her eyes calm and still: "Mr. Hensley, inquiring about a contestant's competition content seems to exceed the privileges of an investor."
Stefan laughed softly. He appreciated this attitude of hers—always maintaining clarity and distance. "You're right, I've overstepped."
However, his casual, familiar manner became a poisonous thorn in the heart of another woman not far away.
Watching this scene, Isadora was nearly mad with jealousy.
Why?
Why could Amelia so easily attract everyone's attention?
First Rufus, and now even Stefan!
She had fought her way back from the international haute couture circles, possessed the most elite credentials and connections, wore countless halos—yet here she was, Isadora, watching some Amelia who came out of nowhere, surrounded by two powerful men like Rufus and Stefan.
Isadora saw Stefan lean down, moving close to Cecilia's ear, lowering his voice to whisper something.
"I don't like surprises. I only do things I'm confident about." Cecilia's voice was soft but carried an undeniable firmness. "Mr. Hensley, you invested in me for my abilities, not to make me a trophy in your rivalry with Rufus."
Stefan raised an eyebrow.
He leaned back slightly, creating a bit of distance, the appreciation in his eyes deepening: "Of course. Your value goes far beyond that."
"Though, seeing Rufus looking like he wants to kill someone but can only rage helplessly—that's definitely the most entertaining bonus that came with this investment."
From Isadora's angle, Stefan's profile was handsome and chiseled, Amelia's neck slender and elegant, their heads so close together their hair nearly intertwined. Against the backdrop of the competition's dazzling lights, the image was so beautiful it hurt Isadora's eyes.
A fury mixed with resentment and humiliation made Isadora's vision go dark.
Her brain had no time to think—her body reacted first.
Isadora quickly raised her phone, pointing it in that direction, zooming in to maximum magnification.
A photo taken from a calculated angle froze on her phone screen.
In the photo, Stefan's lips were almost touching Amelia's cheek, while Amelia tilted her head slightly with her eyes closed—an expression that, in the interpretation of someone with ill intent, showed consent or even invitation to the kiss.
Perfect misalignment.
Perfect ambiguity.
Looking at this photo, a twisted satisfaction appeared on Isadora's face.
She would destroy Amelia.
Since she couldn't crush Amelia professionally for now, she would completely ruin Amelia's reputation!
Isadora immediately switched to a burner account she'd never used before, skillfully opened a social media platform, and uploaded the photo.
Her fingers flew across the screen, every word dripping with malice.
【Rigged! National Designer Competition winner already decided? Intimate backstage photo of primary investor and contestant 108 leaked! The so-called genius is nothing but capital's plaything!】
In the hashtags, she precisely added #NationalDesignerCompetition, #CapitalRigging, and #ChapmanGroupCEOsExGirlfriend.
Isadora wanted Rufus to see it.
She wanted the entire nation's audience to see it.
She wanted Amelia to fall from being a celebrated genius to a despised bitch who slept her way into the competition!
Having done all this, Isadora's breathing remained rapid, but the suffocating anger in her chest finally dissipated somewhat.
She looked up, her eyes filled with venom as she gazed once more in that direction, a cold smile curling at her lips.
Amelia, this is just the beginning!