Chapter 41: Sunny Paris (2)

Although all of Mieying’s requirements had been met, the two of them still had no leads in Paris. They wandered aimlessly through the streets for quite some time, but found nothing. Just as Hua Sheng was feeling discouraged, a figure of a foreign youth flickered past his eyes.

The white teenager had short, reddish-brown curly hair, a slightly chubby build, and a face covered in freckles. His features were easy to remember and identify. Hua Sheng suddenly felt a sense of familiarity; he quickly tapped Mieying and pointed at the boy’s retreating back, saying, "Look! Is that... isn't that the magic student who broke into the Academy of Artistry with Jian before?"

Mieying glanced at the boy and immediately widened her eyes. "You're right! I remember he wasn't wearing a sweatshirt back then; he was in a black robe, holding a branch! No, holding that wand you mentioned!"

"I've been searching for ages, and there's no mention of the Klin Magic School on any map of Paris. It seems our luck has turned. As long as we catch this student, he will surely lead us there!"

Hua Sheng and Mieying covered the distance in a few quick strides and grabbed the student by the collar. As the boy turned his head, ready to lash out in anger, he saw two students of East Asian descent and looked visibly confused.

Hua Sheng pointed at himself and said in broken English, "Do you remember? Academy of Artistry!"

The student reacted instantly, pulling a wand from his pocket. Just as he was about to chant a spell, Mieying acted with lightning speed, slamming her red skateboard against the chubby mage's palm. The wand flew from his grip with a snap and tumbled far away, splashing into the distant Seine River.

Both Hua Sheng and the curly-haired boy were stunned for a moment by the sudden assault.

"Well done, Young Miss!" Hua Sheng couldn't help but exclaim, nearly giving her a thumbs-up.

"OK! OK! I give up!" the boy raised his hands.

Seeing his surrender, Hua Sheng prepared to let go, but the boy suddenly lunged forward, slamming his solid forehead into the bridge of Hua Sheng’s nose with a loud thud. Caught off guard, Hua Sheng saw stars, and his vision went completely dark. The boy seized the opportunity to break free and escape into the crowd.

Holding his face, Hua Sheng shouted, "Mieying, chase him! Remember what he’s wearing!" After waiting a few seconds for his vision to clear, Hua Sheng took off in pursuit.

Hua Sheng, Mieying, and the chubby boy with reddish-brown curls tore through the streets of Paris until a massive, light-brown stone building appeared ahead. Hundreds of stylish foreigners and news reporters were filing up the grand staircase. The curly-haired boy slipped into the crowd and vanished through the building's deep, imposing entrance.

Hua Sheng and Mieying reached the door and looked up to see the words "Grand Palais" inscribed above.

"What is this place?" Mieying asked.

Hua Sheng thought for a moment. "I saw it on the map earlier; it’s called the Grand Palais. It’s over a hundred years old, but it seems to be an exhibition hall now."

"Why are so many people going in? Are they watching a show?"

Hua Sheng scanned the entrance, where dozens of giant, ten-meter-tall posters hung, covered in French and English text. After staring for a while, he picked out a few familiar English words and read aloud:

"Paris Fashion Week..." He pondered. "Paris Fashion Week? Is this the world-famous Paris Fashion Week?"

"Fashion? What does that mean?" Mieying asked.

"Fashion is when people in the mortal world design and release popular colors and styles every year, encouraging everyone to change their clothes annually," Hua Sheng said, pulling Mieying inside. "But the thing is, that kind of fashion is incredibly expensive."

Mieying asked as they walked, "Are people forced to do it? Why don't they just choose what they like instead of spending money to follow the clothes those people release every year?"

"It’s not forced. It’s just that people feel if they don't wear them, they’ll look outdated, backward, and vulgar."

"Are these people brainless? How do the designers know what will be popular each year?"

"Because whatever these people design and release at these major fashion weeks becomes the trend in the mortal world for that year."

Mieying frowned. "Isn't that brainwashing? It's like the clumsiest level of illusion magic—brainwashing everyone so they obediently hand over their hard-earned money to buy these scraps of fabric."

"Well... you're right, Mieying. But I suspect those who can afford these haute couture pieces don't exactly work that hard to earn their money..."

Mieying shook her head. "The mortal world is too complicated... I don't get it."

Hua Sheng sighed. "Actually, I don't really get it either..."

Following the crowd, they noticed everyone had a badge hanging around their neck and an invitation in their hand. Imitating the people around them, they conjured identical badges and invitations and slipped into the venue.

Once inside the Grand Palais, they were met with the sound of rhythmic, dynamic music. Looking up, they saw an elegant, transparent glass dome supported by tall columns and rich classical carvings, as if they were standing in a Renaissance European palace.

In the center of the vast space, a giant T-shaped runway had been erected, surrounded by a dense display of fresh flowers. The rest of the hall was filled with seats, most of which were already taken. Behind the runway, a massive electronic screen repeatedly played luxury advertisements featuring supermodels, synchronized to the pulsing music.

The countless spotlights and flashy decor left Mieying dazzled. "It’s so lively here... so many people... what is that stage for?"

"That’s the fashion week runway. When the show starts, the models walk it wearing the clothes," Hua Sheng explained. "That chubby curly-haired guy must be in this crowd! But there are at least a thousand guests and reporters here, maybe more. And foreigners all look somewhat the same. It’s hard to pick him out."

"That won't do. I can't let him get away!"

"True, he's our only hope of finding the Klin Magic School..." Hua Sheng knew this, but he couldn't think of an effective way to find him.

Just then, the lights dimmed. As the crowd erupted in cheers, all the spotlights focused on the central runway. A deep male voice echoed through the speakers in French:

"Mesdames et Messieurs, la Conférence commence. Si vous avez besoin de photos, éteignez le flash."

Then, he repeated it in English: "If you need to take photos, please turn off the flash."

"Damn it! The show is starting! It’s even darker now; it’s impossible to find him," Hua Sheng said, stamping his foot.

Mieying’s eyes darted around. "We're lost in the crowd unless we have a vantage point of the whole room..."

"From where? Should we climb up to that glass dome?"

"No, no... that's too far."

"Then where?"

"Right there! If you stand there, you can see all the audience!" Mieying raised her hand and pointed earnestly at the T-shaped runway. "I’m going to walk this Paris Fashion Week runway myself!"

"What! You’re going to walk the Paris Fashion Week runway?" Hua Sheng shook his head like a rattle. "If you go up there now, you'll disrupt the show and cause chaos. If the crowd starts running, it’ll be even harder to find the curly-haired guy."

"Isn't it just walking around like those people on the big screen? I'll blend in with the models; no one will notice."

"Young Miss, this isn't a parade. Those models are one-in-a-million supermodels, and they walk one by one. Your stride is wrong, your body is wrong, your posture is wrong—anyone will see through you immediately!"

"Are you suggesting my figure isn't good?"

"No... but you really can't do this! Those models are all very tall!"

Mieying pouted and frowned, thinking for a moment. "My eldest sister and third sister are the tallest among us. How about we have them do it?"

Hua Sheng quickly conjured an image of Mieying’s sisters in his mind. "Your eldest sister, Immortal Qingmiao, is too reserved and serious; I don't think she'll agree. But your third sister is quite tall and thin, and when she’s stone-faced, she does have a bit of a supermodel air. Maybe... no, wait, she has absolutely no runway experience! She’s never learned; how could she possibly walk like a professional?"

To Hua Sheng’s surprise, Mieying didn't care at all. "What's so hard about it? I just watched the clips on the big screen; I’ll tell my third sister to just mimic them."

"How could she possibly learn in just a few minutes?" Hua Sheng couldn't believe it.

Mieying said, "Don't be so anxious. Listen: the models just wear high heels and walk with their feet crossing to the beat. See, left foot crosses to the right of the right foot, then right foot to the left of the left. Like a cat, look, look!"

As she spoke, Mieying demonstrated a few steps, and it actually looked somewhat convincing.

"Good heavens! When you mimic it, it’s actually... but your hands? What do you do with your hands?"

"That’s easy. I’ve already seen it. They just act like they have a headache, a toothache, a backache, or a knee ache—just hold your palms against those spots!" Mieying struck a few poses.

Hua Sheng marveled, "Wow! You really do have the knack for it..."

"Of course! In the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, I can strike a hundred thousand poses. Absolutely no problem!"

"But I’m still worried..."

"What are you worried about? We're out of time! We have to find that chubby guy!"

"Fine. You must make sure your third sister holds the stage! But what about the clothes? Where are we going to find the outfits?"

Mieying replied, "They all come out from backstage. I’ll go knock out a couple of them, steal a few outfits for my third sister, and everything will be solved."

Hua Sheng was speechless, only managing to say, "Be careful. Go easy on them; don't hurt anyone. If the backstage area turns into a riot and the supermodels start trampling each other, that would be a disaster."

"Hey! I know, don't be so soft-hearted for those models. I know what I'm doing." Mieying was about to leave when she suddenly turned back. "My third sister uses the Wind-Fire Wheels, so I’ll tell her that once she spots the curly-haired guy, she should use a spark as a signal to point out his location on the stage!"

Hua Sheng nodded and warned, "That could work. But make sure to tell your third sister to keep the fire small—just a tiny bit is enough. Don't burn the place down!"

"I know, I know, you're so annoying!" With that, Mieying squeezed into the crowd and headed toward the backstage area.