597 Tough Questions

Qin Guan opened his eyes. Instead of calm and cool, he was happy and relaxed. He began to jump on the paved road on one leg like a naughty boy. Everyone felt his inner delight.

The paved road reminded Qin Guan of his childhood, when the girls used to play hopscotch without the boys.

The audience was just as pleased. The atmosphere was warm and harmonious, unlike the first scene, which had been very solemn.

The reporters were all affected. A brave one began to ask questions.

"Qin Guan, is this your first invitation to an international fashion week? How are you feeling?"

As the flashlights blinked, Qin Guan walked in leisurely, as if he was crossing his own garden. He thought for a moment.

"Yes, it's my first trip to Milan. My feelings are really complicated right now. I couldn't express them with words, if I tried. If you insist though, I would compare Milan to the most famous seafood pizza in Italy. I love its profound content."

The Milanese nodded in agreement. Seafood pizza is delicious...

The reporters were confused by his answer, but it was their job to ask questions.

"As far as we know, you moved to the US in 2002 and became a top model in one year. Even though you had been working in this industry in China for a full three years, you didn't manage to reach this level back at home. Is this because your laggard nation blocked your way? In other words, did China's rigid system limit your professional development?"

As soon as he finished his question, the reporters tried to keep some distance from him.

What a brave man! He brought nation and race into the conversation. Is he an idiot?

Actually, it was a Russian reporter who was very respected among his Italian and French peers.

Qin Guan didn't mind the question. He stopped jumping and turned around, looking fierce and aggressive.

He struck a perfect pose at the reporters, as if he was on the T stage of a top show.

"As you see, my steps and poses were taught by a Chinese instructor. In three months, I was able to perform independently in a public show."

Qin Guan began to walk as if he was floating on a cloud. He looked like an immortal in Heaven. The white linen and black silk were floating behind him like steaming clouds.

"A different tutor helped me cultivate my inner temperament. In six months, I became a flexible model qualified to work for high-end brands. I owe all my achievements to what I learned in my motherland. Without my three-year training back at home, there would be no Qin Guan, let alone an Asian top model in an international fashion week."

The atmosphere around him changed again. He was not a gentle man anymore. The temperature suddenly dropped.

"My country is not behind on fashion. On the contrary, it has a historical sense of beauty that would impress any fashion capital."

"It is China, and not some foreign country, that helped me succeed in the international fashion circle!"

Qin Guan finished speaking and returned to his team. He sat down slowly on a small chair.

The reporters were convinced by his firm answer. Models were always good at stage performance, but not at dealing with the acute questions of the media.

The Asian model was fluent in expressing himself and very good at selecting the right words. It sounded as if he had rehearsed his answer in his mind dozens of times.

The Russian reporter left silently, but the other reporters used all their tools to take advantage of this chance. They all gathered in the small alley. An Italian policeman stopped by a couple of times.

I would prefer meeting a female model. What a pity!

Qin Guan's first task was finished smoothly. When a business car pulled up to the alley, the reporters realized that their time was up. There were photographers standing along the street, waiting to take a picture of Qin Guan's back as he left.