Chapter 141: He Who Inspires Me; Lines That Betrays Me
Early the next morning, Micah stepped out of the dormitory with a bounce in his step, his bag slung over one shoulder and a notebook clutched under his arm. He felt strangely refreshed like someone had lit a spark of new interest to drive him forward. The sky wasn’t completely bright, a ray of sunrise spread on the quiet buildings.
Micah took a deep breath and strolled toward the small garden behind the dorms, a quiet hidden spot near the lake where hardly anyone came at this hour.
He hadn’t even bothered with breakfast. He just needed to get the ideas down before they slipped away. Micah found a bench and plopped down. He flipped open a small notebook, already pulling out a pencil from the side pocket of his bag. He didn’t hesitate. His hand moved in a swift, practised line. His brow furrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a tight line.
He started with the jewellery design, a birthday gift for Darcy. Something personal, simple but meaningful. He had already pictured it in his head the night before while lying in bed. A pendant with a clean yet elegant design. Micah’s lips stretched into a small smile as he quickly finished the sketch, even adding some light shading to make the shape pop off the page.
"There," he whispered to himself. "Uncle Graham can make it in time if I send it today."
He closed the small notebook and put it aside. Then, without waiting for a second, he opened his second notebook. This one was thicker, filled with sketches of old and new, half-baked ideas, notes in margins, fabric thoughts, and colour swatches taped to the corners.
Micah’s eyes gleamed. He grinned to himself like a kid about to unwrap a secret stash. He could finally show his designs to Georgina. That thought alone sent a thrill through him like he was injected with chicken blood. He couldn’t wait to draw.
His speciality was women’s fashion. People raise eyebrows about it sometimes or find it odd. But Micah didn’t care. His love for fashion didn’t come from trends or fame. It started at home.
He remembered being a little boy, watching his mother and sisters get ready for events. But more than anyone else, it was his grandmother, Zhou Ruyan, who inspired him.
She was always elegant, but frail. Her health meant she rarely left the house. Shopping was done through catalogues, or designers sent limited samples to Ramsy mansion. Micah could see she wasn’t happy with the choices, but she never said anything. She didn’t want to trouble Albert Ramsy with her preferences. She would smile and say it was good enough, but Micah saw past it. There had been a quiet longing in her beautiful dark eyes whenever others talked about the fashion shows they had attended, how stunning the models were, how outrageous or breathtaking the outfits looked.
Zhou Ruyan always listened silently, smiling faintly, never interrupting. But Micah could tell. It was agony for someone who had once been part of that world to be left so far outside it. Coming from a family renowned in the jade business, Zhou Ruyan had been a celebrated artisan, famed for her exquisite jade jewellery, crafted in collaboration with high-end fashion brands. Her work had once graced runaways and glossy magazine covers. But after her health declined, she was forced to step down from that glamorous life.