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Qin Guan nearly cried out as he lay on the hairy carpet. It’s too hot! I’m such a coward! If I’d insisted, maybe I would have gotten a chance to sleep on the bed.

Stop dreaming, boy. Just sleep. You have a lot to do tomorrow.

The next day, Qin Guan put on his best clothes before Cong Nianwei’s doubtful gaze. He had an interview that day.

The Capital Fashion Week would begin in September, and dozens of domestic and foreign brands had gathered at outlets east of the capital. There was a large demand for models for the fashion show.

Several Asian countries with a flourishing model industry had acted without delay, sending their top models to the Chinese capital.

Some European and American brands couldn’t bring their own models to the fashion show though, so they needed to explore the talent in China.

The Plaster Flag Nation and the Pickle Nation wouldn’t let that opportunity go. They were near China, which worked to their advantage, and they also had their own brands in the Fashion Week.

Frankly speaking, they were taking food right out of China’s bowl.

With the resume Sister Xue had prepared under his arm, Qin Guan looked at the outlet buildings in shock. They had been decorated beyond recognition.

There had originally been several small European style buildings there, but all the shops along the street had been given to the exhibitors for free so they could take care of their affairs before Fashion Week.

The street had been remoulded into a flea market by various fashionable guys.

Large advertisement boards had been placed outside the buildings, clothing racks were messy and disorganized, and accessories, buttons and scarves were piled in baskets and boxes.

The most attractive part was the models shuttling around with their paperwork in hand. They walked among the brands in pursuit of an audition. Only the luckiest ones would get a chance to participate in the show.

There were English, Japanese and Korean models. It was a splendid assembly of top and second-line models. If one ignored the thick gunpowder smoke on the street, it was almost a feast for the eyes.

Qin Guan gave his car key and other belongings to Sister Xue and stepped into the square with a thick pile of papers. He attracted the attention of the other waiting models right away.

Everyone looked at him. He seemed like a very strong rival.

"Mr. Xiaoquan, is he a fellow countryman?"

"I don’t think so. He must be Chinese."

"Oops! Will we audition for the same brands as him?"

"Don’t worry. Generally speaking, Chinese guys are inferior to us. The brands we’re after set high standards for model temperament. He might be handsome, but he will not qualify. We don’t need to take him seriously. Our strategy is to look down on our opponents. Why do you get discouraged?"

"You’re right, I’m too young."

That was the conversation that took place among the Plaster Flag Nation group. It was comparatively polite. They basically just considered Qin Guan an embroidery pillow. Let’s see what the Pickle Nation was saying though.

"Our models are all handsome. They’re the best ones. Look at those Chinese peasants and those short Plaster Flag Nation guys! Ha ha!"

"Senior Piao, look at that Chinese guy!"

Wow! An arch enemy. Qin Guan was wearing a black fitting, round-collar T shirt and jeans that set off his perfect figure.

He walked up to the group of models leisurely, greeting Ouyang Fen, who pretended not to recognize him.

Ouyang shrank into the group of Chinese models. That guy is so good at attracting hatred. The models at the square were divided into four groups based on their nationality.

Domestic models and models from Hong Kong, Macao and Taiwan were together, while those from Western and Latin countries were in the same group. Different races aimed for different brands, so they got along well. Although they were all Asian models models though, models from the Plaster Flag Nation and the Pickle Nation stood out from their Chinese peers.

In 2000, Asian models didn’t exhibit extraordinary talent at major international fashion shows. Thanks to the flourishing fashion industry though, there were several hot models emerging from the Plaster Flag Nation, including Liyuanlei, Shangtian Dapu, and so on. Fashion magazines, such as JJ, Ray, and Sweet, grew like mushrooms after the rain.

As a result, they were entering the Chinese Fashion Week with full confidence.

Unlike the devoted models of the Plaster Flag Nation though, the Pickle Nation preferred to market its own products. The models’ entertainment skills were overall good, so before they distinguished themselves in the fashion industry, they acted on films or TV. That was why the Pickle Nation was called the Nation of Unprofessional Models.

The representatives of the first generation were Che Shengyuan and Song Chengxian, who strived to open the way for more models.

Their followers tried their best to squeeze in various shows to increase their popularity. They saw the new millennium as the first light of dawn.

Compared to the models from the Plaster Flag Nation, they were not as calm. Overseas large-scale fashion shows were of great significance to them.

That was why they sent someone to interrogate Qin Guan. It was a male model who seemed very kind. The two of them talked in standard English and strange Pickle English.

"Hello, sir. We are from the Pickle Nation. Which auditions will you attend today?"

Qin Guan was surprised with his direct question, but it was unnecessary to hide. He looked at the timetable of the whole Fashion Week. There were nine days in total. He could try out for one show for each day if he didn’t want to work very hard.

He felt confident about himself, and he told the model the brands he preferred. There were more than 30, which surprised the other model.