Sunlight streamed in through the slit in the curtains, slowly sliding across Shen Yuan’s face. He lifted his lashes, his gaze as cold as frost that no warmth could melt.
Shen Yuan furrowed his brows, glaring at the foreigners across the table. “…Why not?”
The lead Caucasian spoke: “No, you can’t use a brand name that immediately identifies you as a Chinese designer. It’s not international enough; consumers won’t respond. You should pick an English name—like James Shen or Charlie Shen. Anything but Yuan Shen; it’s awkward and hard to pronounce. Trying to make consumers remember your brand with that name will be difficult.”
Shen Yuan let out a cold chuckle. “I’m not changing it. I’ll keep this name. Pretending to be foreign is meaningless. The judges at design competitions never withheld awards because I was Chinese. Consumers buy my jewelry for my designs, not my name.”
The man shook his head, calmly but firmly: “Mr. Shen, the brand name is crucial. We’re not asking you to pretend to be foreign; we’re asking you to make it more international. International, understand? I’ve seen films from your country where actors go to Hollywood and adopt English names—they’re widely recognized partly because of those names.
“Besides, we’ve worked with Chinese designers before.”
He listed several designers who had changed their names and achieved success. “Their brands have grown well, gained some fame, haven’t they?”
Shen Yuan remained unconvinced, his anger rising. “What if I insist on keeping it?”
The man replied: “Then we cannot accept your project. We would be damaging our own reputation. If you persist, I doubt other firms would take you either. Please seriously consider our suggestion and give us a response. It’s not too late to change it before the official launch.”
Shen Yuan fought the urge to slam the table, lowering his dark lashes in silence for a long moment. “…You let me think it over. Once I decide, I’ll contact you.”
“How long will you need?”
“At most a week,” Shen Yuan said, pressing his fingers to his temple. “I’ll give an answer.”
“Three days,” the man said in a businesslike tone. “We need an answer in three days. If you want to reconsider the name, a few more days can be given. Please respond promptly, Mr. Shen, or it will be difficult to schedule the launch. Every year, many designers establish studios. You’re not the only one. International jewelry awards are rare, but many have won similar awards and worked with us. Please don’t delay—our time is valuable too.”
Shen Yuan wasn’t sure if he was being overly sensitive, but he felt slapped in the face. His complexion flickered red and white as he watched them leave.
Although the negotiation had been polite, he felt scolded, as if they were telling him: You’re not a major figure in the jewelry world—what makes you think you can take charge? Everyone else conformed; why don’t you? Know your place.
It was incredibly frustrating.
After the PR team left, the rest of the studio staff exchanged glances, hesitating before timidly speaking.
“Boss, what should we do now?”
“Should we change the name? What should it be? You’ve never had an English name, right?”
“Does it really need to change? I think it’s fine as it is.”
Shen Yuan’s head throbbed. Outwardly calm, he let a trace of displeasure show. Known for controlling his emotions, he spoke softly: “Enough talking.”
The room fell silent, everyone looking at him. They trusted him—they had joined his startup because they believed in his talent, ambition, capability, and decisiveness. Even the recent setbacks had been turned in their favor by Shen Yuan’s skill.
He stated firmly: “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”
Seeing his confident composure, the team relaxed. If Shen Yuan said so, he must have a plan.
Shen Yuan returned home, fuming, and complained to Qiao Hailou: “I can understand changing a name because it’s hard to remember, but not being ‘international’—what nonsense is that? Why can’t it be? I’m not going to give in. If it shows I’m a Chinese designer, so what? I’ll keep the name.”
Qiao Hailou, amused by Shen Yuan’s pout, teased: “Fine, fine, we’ll keep the name.”
Shen Yuan scowled: “What’s with that attitude? You’re just humoring me! Did you even seriously think about it?”
Qiao Hailou paused: “Hmm… I have been thinking.”
After venting, Shen Yuan hesitated. The PR company’s advice likely had reason. Was it irrational to stubbornly refuse?
A child raised in servitude and forced to appease others knew all too well that sometimes strength alone isn’t enough. He worried that insisting on his unique choice might be unwise. His name was admittedly hard to remember—even some foreign classmates still mispronounced it.
Calming himself, Shen Yuan asked seriously: “Qiao Hailou, don’t just say what I want to hear. I need your honest opinion. Even if it upsets me, tell me. I can take it—I don’t shy from criticism.”
Qiao Hailou looked at him. “I think you shouldn’t change it. Keep your name.”
Shen Yuan, half skeptical: “Really? You’re not humoring me? My name is awkward and hard to remember…”
“But if I changed it willingly, that’s one thing. Being forced to—feels like admitting defeat.”
Sometimes, conceding was necessary.
He had been flexible his whole life, but now, with Qiao Hailou’s encouragement, he found he lacked patience. Shen Yuan mused: the uncle was competent, but not omnipotent; not everyone would agree with him.
Qiao Hailou smiled, pinching his cheek: “I’m serious. Ten or twenty years ago, I might have suggested changing it. But now, I don’t think it’s necessary. Don’t be angry. We won’t change it, and I’ll handle it.”
Shen Yuan felt clueless—perhaps due to inexperience—wondering how to assert himself. Following Qiao Hailou’s approach, he tentatively asked: “Are you planning to spend PR funds to sway them? If the studio flops, you can’t keep funding me. Your money isn’t limitless.”
He felt embarrassed: “I even considered using studio profits for the foundation. If it fails quickly, people will laugh at me.”
Qiao Hailou patted his head: “Don’t worry. It’s fine. Just tell the PR to back off. If you want to scold them, scold them.”
Shen Yuan was stunned. “What?? Just refuse? Is that okay? Without a local PR team, won’t offending them hurt my launch? Will I hold a press event alone?”
Qiao Hailou grinned confidently: “No. I promise all the city’s media will come.”
Shen Yuan hesitated, doubtful: “Really? How?”
Qiao Hailou nodded: “Believe me. I never disappoint at critical moments.”
He had already thought of a foolproof plan, waiting for Shen Yuan to marvel before instructing him.
Shen Yuan shot him a cold glare. “You said ‘ten years’—I’m super disappointed.”
Qiao Hailou froze, face flushed: “Then… forget it. Stop remembering. Move on.”
Shen Yuan snorted: “I won’t forget—unless I get senile, I’ll remember forever.”
Qiao Hailou cleared his throat and changed the topic: “Come here, I’ll show you how it’s done…”
Shen Yuan leaned in: “How?”
Heads together, they discussed as if plotting some grand mischief.
Qiao Hailou explained his plan thoroughly, Shen Yuan’s eyes lit up in realization. So it could be done this way! He admired Qiao Hailou: “Impressive. Truly devious, Qiao uncle. You always think up these clever schemes in a blink!”
Qiao Hailou beamed: “See? Want to learn from me?”
Shen Yuan slapped his thigh: “Of course!”
Nearby, Little Peanut wobbled holding his crib bars, hand in mouth, watching his two dads laughing, and giggled along.
Two weeks later.
Shen Yuan prepared the launch venue. Everything was ready, and “Yuan Shen” was boldly displayed.
Everything was perfect—except no one showed up.
A trembling staff member asked: “Boss, really okay? No one’s here.”
Shen Yuan remained unfazed. “The media will come. Don’t worry.”
The team panicked—they didn’t see anyone aside from their own staff and the cleaners.
Then, a female employee exclaimed excitedly: “They’re here! They’re here!”
Shen Yuan checked his watch, surprised—it was earlier than expected. Did they arrive ahead of schedule?
The doors opened. Several people entered, led by Mr. Hill, accompanied by familiar friends and media contacts he had arranged.
Shen Yuan hadn’t expected Mr. Hill to come, especially since he had called him regarding the brand name. Mr. Hill had said he didn’t want the name changed, potentially angering the PR firm, so he hadn’t needed to attend—yet here he was.
Mr. Hill walked straight to Shen Yuan. “Congratulations on founding your brand today. Your mother would be proud.”
Shen Yuan felt embarrassed: “Not a single journalist has arrived yet.”
Mr. Hill joked: “Seats are empty; I’ll take the front row. When do we start?”
“Two more hours. I’m waiting for them,” Shen Yuan replied.
“Waiting for who?”
He smiled without answering, thinking: Waiting for the reporters to beg for a seat.
As the time neared, Shen Yuan grew anxious and asked Qiao Hailou backstage: “You said people would come. Where is everyone?”
Qiao Hailou feigned hesitation: “They should come… I only asked someone casually. About sixty percent chance.”
Shen Yuan nearly had a stroke: “Sixty percent?! Last week you said one hundred! When did it drop to sixty?! You lying bastard! I’ll strangle you!”
Qiao Hailou caught him, laughing: “Haha, I was joking. I checked fifteen minutes ago—they’re on the way, should be here soon… hey, don’t strangle me, others might see.”
Outside the venue.
A black armored car stopped at the entrance. A distinguished, silver-haired, vigorous gentleman stepped out, escorted by two bodyguards.
Shen Yuan and Qiao Hailou greeted him. Qiao Hailou introduced: “Mr. Fan, this is my partner, jewelry designer, Shen Yuan…”
Shen Yuan greeted formally: “Mr. Fan.”
The gentleman, kindly-faced and amiable, was the Chinese ambassador to Country E.