‘SEE YOU MORNING’ 149 Malaya’s Catwalk Show

‘SEE YOU MORNING’ 149 Malaya’s Catwalk Show

After a morning of intense battling, Malaya and Li Haojun had fought their way from packs of wolves to lions and black bears. By the later stages, Li Haojun could only play a supporting role, holding enemies at bay.
Malaya truly showed her mettle. Sitting across from him at the lunch table, her hair was damp with sweat, clinging to her forehead and temples. The clearly defined wet strands, combined with the flush rising beneath her skin from capillaries brimming with blood, struck Li Haojun as radiating pure, infectious youthfulness.
“What do you want to do this afternoon?” Li Haojun asked casually.
“I want to ride the Ferris wheel,” she said.
At those words, images leapt into Li Haojun’s mind—those towering steel scaffolds swaying in the wind, the web of cables pulled taut at varying tensions, clinking against the metal framework.
Before he could decide how to respond, the corner of Malaya’s mouth lifted in a smile.
“If you like it, I’ll go with you. It’s just that the Ferris wheel is a bit far. How about we try some other attractions here first, then head over? After the ride, we can just go straight back to the hotel. Okay?”
“Alright.”
Li Haojun looked up the amusement park options.
“We could do go-kart racing—you said you liked racing, real or simulated. Or indoor skydiving. Maybe simulated aerial combat? Or… we could try the strength-testing hammer game?”
Malaya ate her lunch while listening to his suggestions, but none seemed to catch her interest.
Li Haojun scrolled through the options, changed the search keywords to activities suited for women, and found himself reading aloud:
“Colorful pottery, mini surfboards, Paris Fashion Week models…”
“Fashion Week what?”
“Fashion Week catwalk show.” The moment the words left his mouth, Li Haojun felt a pang of guilt. He had bought several outfits for his older sister but never for his younger sister. He silently resolved to make it up to her soon.
“Sure, let’s do that after lunch. Anyway, we need to walk a bit after eating.”
The Paris Fashion Week Model Catwalk Show was a hybrid experience combining live performance with virtual costumes. There was a real miniature runway. Players put on suitable high heels, selected virtual outfits, and followed prompts for different styles of walking. Their movements were scanned and recorded, then composited into a virtual image of them wearing the chosen garments. Afterwards, there was even a scoring and evaluation segment.
With the virtual reality goggles on, Li Haojun was her sole audience. The runway lights brightened, and to the sound of light music, Malaya appeared. She walked to the starting point, stood still, turned, and faced forward with a cool, composed expression. After a moment’s pause, she began to move.
For her first appearance, she wore a fruit-blue youthful outfit—a pleated mini-skirt underneath, and a white, loose, short-sleeved crop top with a standing collar. The soft blue fabric was embroidered with red motifs: candy shapes, letters, rubber ducks, leaves—playful patterns that carried the whimsy of childhood, while the set itself pulsed with the rhythm of adolescence.
Moving to a brisk tempo, Malaya completed one circuit and returned backstage.
Li Haojun thought her hairstyle suited the outfit perfectly—those tiny braids and colorful ribbons were both playful and vibrant. The only imperfection was the high heels; flat black lace-up leather shoes would have been better. In that instant, thoughts of Sienna drifted through his mind—unstoppable, irresistible, yet somehow out of place.
Ah, for Malaya, it was inappropriate timing. But for Sienna—he had almost forgotten her. Li Haojun also felt secretly guilty toward her. She had simply burst into his life, and left just as abruptly.
During the intermission, it sounded like Malaya was adjusting settings after reading the game prompts; the soft beeping of buttons came from backstage.
A moment later, gentle background music played, and the runway lights dimmed. Malaya stepped out slowly, turning lightly at the starting point. This time, she wore a deep crimson evening gown—and now the high heels were entirely fitting.
Her hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, adorned with a green olive branch and a fine diamond iron cross hairpin. The coiled bun revealed her graceful neck.
It was a one-shoulder evening gown, the fabric flowing from the shoulder strap down to the waist in a fishtail pattern. The texture gathered at the waist, spiraling downward around her body before spreading into large waves that flowed into the train. From above, the design resembled the spiral of a conch shell.
In the muted lighting, to the accompaniment of soft music, Malaya walked forward gracefully. Overhead spotlights shifted intermittently in intensity, like sunlight filtering through forest trees onto the cheeks, shoulders, and neck of a woodland fairy. Along the corridor of light she traversed, the fabric of her gown shimmered with shifting iridescence—faint pink to rich violet—catching the angles of its folds.
Her arms swayed subtly, elbows close to her waist. With each measured step, her hips swayed gently to balance her center of gravity, always stepping along the straight line traced by the balls of her feet.
This time, when she reached the front marker, she paused. Her legs parted slightly beneath the skirt as she shifted her weight. Then, her right arm—clad in the same-colored long sleeve—extended slightly outward. Her fingers gave a small tug to the trailing hem of the gown, the ivory pear-shaped ornament on the back of her hand accenting the rich crimson train.
Gone was the earlier coolness. Malaya turned her head slightly, glancing down toward the left—toward where Li Haojun stood. Then, with a sideways step, she gathered the long skirt and turned back. The high heels and the fitted fishtail silhouette delicately outlined the lithe, graceful lines from her thighs to her hips, and even the slender arm lifting the hem was full of soft beauty.
Li Haojun kept watching her retreating figure. Light flickered across her bare shoulders and back, illuminating her fair skin and swaying form, until she vanished into the deepening shadows of the forest-like darkness.
She spent less time backstage this round, quickly finishing the button presses with a series of beeps. The next track was brighter, more cheerful. The lights came up fully, cycling slowly through warm and cool ambient tones, creating a relaxed and lively atmosphere.
Malaya emerged, footsteps syncing with the rhythm. At the starting point, she turned and stood in a side lunge—left leg straight, hip thrust out, hand on waist; right leg bent.
This time, she wore brown-yellow heeled leather boots, a Western-style denim miniskirt, and a matching cowboy hat. Her light brown hair fell in big waves over her shoulders. Dark eyeshadow and smoky makeup framed her rose-red lips, and a deep brown fringed shawl draped from her shoulders. Thoroughly Western in style—no wonder her entrance carried that wild, unrestrained energy.
After a brief pause, Malaya straightened her legs and stepped forward. To the beat of the upbeat music, she strode ahead with clear, powerful steps. Her thighs led the sway of her hips, her whole body moving in rhythm. Her back was straight, even her shoulders and collarbones participating in the motion—only her chin remained slightly tucked, eyes forward, cool and determined.
When she reached the midpoint of the runway, she stopped and performed a 360-degree turn. As she spun, her hair lifted lightly, the fringe of her shawl flying.
With each twist of her torso, she shifted her weight between her legs, showing off the contours of her shoulders, waist, and hips from every angle. Watching her performance, Li Haojun couldn’t help but rise to his feet and applaud.
Malaya’s chin dipped slightly, as if nodding, her gaze flickering with something like a smile. She brushed aside a wave of hair with her left hand and continued forward.
At the front point, she paused again, then moved sideways. The stiff fabric of the denim skirt amplified the sway of her hips, underscoring that hard-edged wildness.
On the return, her retreating figure once again interpreted the rhythm of the music through her shoulders, waist, and hips. And at the midpoint of the return path, Malaya turned back to look at Li Haojun, her smile wide and genuine—so joyful that she let the centrifugal force of her spin stretch her arms outward.
Li Haojun remained standing, clapping for her.
When she returned backstage this time, she didn’t change the music or adjust any system sounds.
Li Haojun waited a moment, but nothing happened. Worried something might have happened to her, he rushed backstage.
Peering around the corner, he saw Malaya standing there, leaning against the screen, silent.
Seeing the alarm on Li Haojun’s face, she smiled quietly, just watching him without speaking.
“Today,” Li Haojun began, then hesitated. He had wanted to say you look beautiful, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he said,
“You were amazing.”
“Really?” Malaya asked softly, as if it were merely an acknowledgment.
Li Haojun walked over to her, unsure how to encourage her.
Malaya pushed away from the screen and straightened up, taking half a step forward.
Though she had grown, traces of her childlike innocence and purity still lingered in her features. Her beauty was so untouched, so good.
Li Haojun leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and gave her a gentle hug, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek.