# "Su Yao's Dazzling Counterattack" Chapter 6
The morning after the Paris Fashion Week triumph, Su Yao found herself surrounded by stacks of fabric swatches and prototype sketches in L'etoile's Paris atelier. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching dust motes that danced above a worktable cluttered with measuring tapes, scissors, and a half-finished sleeve of her upcoming ready-to-wear line. The system's holographic interface hovered nearby, displaying a countdown: 29 days, 7 hours, 14 minutes until the deadline for the new collection.
"Coffee?" Lise appeared at her elbow, holding two mugs steaming with rich, dark liquid. The French girl's usually neat blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, and there was a smudge of ink on her cheek—proof she'd been up late editing photos. "Your phone's been blowing up. Marco sent three emails, Alain wants to review the color palette, and there's a journalist from *Vogue* waiting in the lobby."
Su Yao groaned, rubbing her eyes. She'd slept for barely four hours, her dreams a jumble of runway lights and fabric patterns. "Tell the journalist I'll be ten minutes. And can you—" She gestured to the chaos on the table, "—help me sort these swatches? The seaweed-metal blend comes in five new shades, but I need to pick three that work for both winter coats and spring jackets."
Lise set down the mugs and picked up a swatch of deep emerald green, its surface shifting from metallic to matte as she tilted it. "This one. It looks like forest moss after rain." She held up another, a soft lavender that glowed faintly under the light. "And this—reminds me of Provence in spring. Alain will love it."
As they worked, the studio door creaked open. Alain stepped in, followed by a woman with silver hair twisted into an elegant bun, wearing a tailored pantsuit that looked like it had been stitched from liquid midnight. "Su Yao, this is Madame Laurent," he said, his voice warm. "She's the head of sustainable textiles at Kering. She wants to talk about *partnerships*."
Madame Laurent extended a hand, her grip firm but gentle. "Your coat at fashion week was… revolutionary." Her English was accented, precise. "We've been trying to develop eco-friendly luxury fabrics for years, but you've cracked the code. Kering would like to fund your research—scale production, make your fabric available to designers worldwide."
Su Yao's heart skipped a beat. Kering owned Gucci, Saint Laurent, Balenciaga—some of the biggest names in fashion. Partnering with them could mean her fabric reached millions. But doubt flickered in her mind. "Would I… retain control over how it's used?" she asked. "I don't want it to become just another 'trend'—something that's marketed as sustainable but only sold to the wealthy."
Madame Laurent smiled, a rare, genuine thing. "That's exactly why we're here. Kering is tired of greenwashing. We want to *change* the industry. Your vision—fashion for everyone, not just the few—aligns with ours." She pulled a folder from her bag. "We'll fund a factory in Shanghai, staffed by local artisans. You'll oversee design, set the price point, ensure it's accessible. What do you say?"
The system's interface lit up: "Major collaboration opportunity detected. Accepting partnership will unlock: Advanced fabric Research and Development facilities, global distribution network, funding for worker training programs. Task difficulty: High, but reward multiplier: 5x."
Before Su Yao could answer, the door flew open. Pierre stood in the doorway, his face flushed, a crumpled newspaper in his hand. "You can't be serious, Alain!" he shouted, waving the paper. "Kering partnering with *her*? This fabric is a joke—flimsy, untested, a stain on L'etoile's legacy!"
Madame Laurent's expression hardened. "Monsieur Dubois, I've read your latest collection's sustainability report. Your silk comes from farms with 70% water waste, your leather from factories with documented labor violations. Perhaps you should focus on your own legacy."
Pierre sputtered, then turned to Su Yao, his eyes venomous. "You think this makes you special? A charity case with a lucky invention? Wait until the cracks show. Metal rusts. Dreams fade." He stormed out, slamming the door so hard a frame rattled loose from the wall.
Alain sighed, shaking his head. "Pay him no mind. He's always feared change." He clapped Su Yao on the back. "Madame Laurent's offer is once-in-a-lifetime. What do you say?"
Su Yao thought of the little girl in Shanghai, of the cleaner at the Louvre, of all the people who deserved beautiful, durable clothes. She picked up the emerald swatch, running her finger over its surface—strong, flexible, alive. "I say let's build something that lasts."
That afternoon, Su Yao and Madame Laurent signed the partnership agreement in Alain's office, a room lined with sketches from his decades-long career. As they shook hands, Lise snapped photos, grinning. "This is going to be front-page news. Again."
Later, as Su Yao walked along the Seine, the setting sun turning the water pink and gold, her phone buzzed. A message from Marco: *"Milan's textile union wants to meet. They heard about the Kering deal—think you could teach their workers your fabric techniques? Let me know."*
She smiled, typing back a reply: *"Tell them I'll be there next week."*
The system's new task appeared: "Teach seaweed-metal fabric production to 50 Milanese artisans. Success will unlock: Traditional Italian weaving techniques database. Deadline: 14 days."
Su Yao looked up at the Eiffel Tower, now glowing against the twilight sky. Pierre was wrong—metal didn't have to rust, and dreams didn't have to fade. Not if you built them with care, with purpose, with threads that connected people across borders.
She pulled her coat tighter, feeling the iris brooch press against her chest like a promise. Tomorrow, she'd start designing the ready-to-wear line. But tonight, she'd let herself celebrate—one step closer to a world where fashion didn't divide, but united.