Su Wan stared at her phone screen, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the edge.

Eleven twenty-three.

The WeChat chat window was still stuck on her conversation with Zhang Jie; she’d agreed to have the sample garment delivered before noon, but there wasn’t even a sign of it yet.

She tidied up her study once more—pushing the chair against the wall to clear a space in the middle. She set up the tripod facing the window, positioned the fill light to the side and slightly in front, and clipped the lavalier microphone onto the second button of her shirt. She tested the audio, coughed once, played it back—and the sound was crystal clear.

Yet she still felt something was off.

Her phone vibrated; it was a message from the delivery driver: “Miss, I’m downstairs.”

“Okay, I’ll be right down,” she said, grabbing her keys and heading out.

When she picked up the package, she didn’t rush to open it. First, she found a clean bedsheet, laid it on the Su Wan’s bedroom desk, and then carefully unwrapped the layers one by one. Three outfits were neatly stacked, still with their tags attached: the first was a beige suit jacket paired with wide-leg pants in the same color family; the second was a light-brown knit cardigan with a floral skirt; the third was an oversized denim jacket with shorts.

She took each piece out and hung it up, checking the outfit details against the script one by one. After filming that five-minute video on commuter makeup, so many people in the comments asked for the styling links—now the brand was actually reaching out to her directly.

She ran her fingers over the camera body; it was cool and smooth, and as soon as she pressed the power button, the screen lit up with unbelievably sharp clarity. Back when she shot with the iPhone 6, zooming in would reveal nothing but graininess, but now even the texture of the fabric was perfectly visible.

Just as she was lost in thought, her phone vibrated again, and her heart skipped a beat the instant the screen lit up.

A new message popped up on WeChat, sent by Shen Rongyuan.

[Shen Rongyuan: You can lower the angle of the fill light by 15 degrees—side lighting suits your face shape better. If possible, I’d love to adjust it for you on-site.]

She stared at those words for several seconds, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, deleting and retyping, retyping and deleting.

In the end, she only replied with one word: “Okay.”

After a pause, she added, “Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, I’ll be waiting at home.”

Only after sending the message did she realize she’d been holding her breath—she didn’t let out a sigh until her phone finally went quiet.

The next morning at 9:30, she had already rearranged the room.

At 10:07, the doorbell rang.

When Su Wan opened the door, the sunlight streaming in nearly blinded her. Shen Rongyuan stood outside, wearing a dark-gray windbreaker, carrying a backpack, and holding a black hard-shell case.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Only seven minutes,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in. “It’s not really late.”

Shen Rongyuan nodded, set the case down on the coffee table, opened it, and pulled out a palm-sized display screen, connecting it to the camera with a cable. The screen lit up, and the live feed appeared instantly.

“Could you replay the clip you shot yesterday?” his voice was right by her ear—not close, but clear enough, with a low, magnetic quality.

Su Wan handed him her phone.

Shen Rongyuan tapped the clip she’d shot the night before, watched it for a moment, and frowned slightly. “The light is too direct; the shadow under your nose isn’t strong enough, and as soon as you turn your head to the side, there’s a noticeable break in the contour.” His gaze fixed on her on the screen, intensely focused. “Your face shape is quite soft, so side lighting brings out your features much better.”

“What should I do then?”

“Change the angle,” Shen Rongyuan said, crouching down to adjust the height of the tripod, lowering the camera by two stops, and shifting the fill light 20 centimeters to the left. “This way, the main light comes in at a 45-degree angle, making your facial contours look more three-dimensional.”

He looked up at her. “Stand here and turn around once.”

Su Wan did as he asked.

He stood in front of the monitor, watching the screen while muttering to himself, “The jawline is coming through… the eyes are catching the light… Okay, stop moving now.”

She froze, facing the camera directly.

“This position is perfect,” he said, standing up and quickly adjusting a few camera settings. “Set the white balance manually to 5,600; otherwise the yellow cast will be too strong.”

Su Wan didn’t say another word, just lowered her head to review her script. There were three outfits, each to be showcased within 50 seconds, with a focus on the styling concept and suitable occasions, ending with a call to like and save the video.

“You’re moving too fast,” he said after reviewing the script. “The audience won’t be able to keep up.”

End of Chapter 11: Assistance