"Mo Qingchen!" she yelled into the empty space. She turned around and tried to see where they could have gone. "Anybody there?" she called out, assuming someone was actually in the house with them.

Silence.

She snooped around a bit, calling out anyone but it was as though they had vanished. The place was designed like a labyrinth, so it wasn't a surprise.

Unable to find her way, she headed back to the foyer. When she reached the entranceway, the butler was standing there all prim and proper. How he had come back without passing by her was a mystery.

He was just opening the door as she entered the room.

As the door swung open, she nearly fell over. Standing before her was a familiar face. He was holding a bicycle helmet in one hand and a large envelope in the other.

His hair was different than she remembered but she knew that glassy, bloodshot eye everywhere.

"Fuck me!" he shouted, his eyes landing on her face.

The butler gasped, thoroughly appalled by the crude language but she wasn't surprised in the least. The boy didn't have an ounce of couth in him.

The mind-altering drugs this man had taken on a regular basis were usually all he consumed. He wasn't a bad guy though. He was an extremely gifted artist which was what drew Qian Meng to him when they first met.

She was a sucker for creative minds.

"What on earth are you doing here, Marcus?" she asked, stumped.

"My boyfriend asked me to send a parcel on his behalf. He is an entrepreneur," he boasted. Well, though Qian Meng and Marcus were friends, they were not on the same celestial plane.

"Right... and your hair is orange." There was a mixture of yellow and red in there as well. Somehow, it fit him perfectly.

He ruffled his hair to show off. "Yeah, it represents fire. The fire within my body manifests itself through my style. You know?" he looked from her to the butler and back again.

Her laughter spilled out as she took in the baffled look on the butler's face. "Why are you here, though? Don't you have a show tomorrow?" she asked.

He tilted his chin sideways. "Man, I wish I knew. Does anyone really know why they're there?" he pondered deeply before his mouth dropped open. "Goddess of tits... it's you..." his voice was filled with amazement.

A spark of something flashed beneath the redness of his eyes. She knew that look. Something was brewing. Marcus was a lot of things, but he wasn't hard to read.

"Fuck me," he exclaimed yet again, louder this time. "You're my muse."

He nearly knocked over the butler as he barrelled forward towards Qian Meng. His lean body coiled over her. "I had a vision last week," he whispered in her ear. "A beautiful voice told me that my muse would be arriving soon." His fingers clung to her for dear life.

Qian Meng fought hard to not fall over. Marcus was thin but he was also over six feet tall.

"What is the meaning of this?" An angry voice growled from behind her.

She managed to untangle herself from Marcus and stepped back. Her clothing was in a disarray, so she smoothed out her clothes and slipped her foot back into the shoe that had fallen off in the struggle.

Mo Qingchen stormed into the room like a demon, his intense black eyes accessing the situation in front of him. Marcus just there staring at Qian Meng in awe.

"Yun Qian Meng, did he harm you?" Mo Qingchen asked her, carefully looking her over.

"He is just excited to see me." Qian Meng defended her friend quickly. In Mo Qingchen's defense, the sight of a tall man in a tank top and bicycle shorts was unnerving, to say the least.

His eyes shot over to Marcus. "Explain yourself," he demanded.

"Goddess of tits is my muse," he stated as though it was a simple fact. Qian Meng wanted to die. Marcus had always called her that. They met frequently at fashion shows and worked closely with one another. The title was Marcus' way of appreciating her asset. Among friends, it was just a joke.

But Mo Qingchen didn't look pleased.

"I know Marcus. He's an independent designer and produces exquisite pieces. He's in Paris for his show tomorrow." She interrupted in an attempt to break the tension. "He got a bit carried away when he saw me here."

Marcus' eyes darted over to her. "I wasn't carried away... I was pulled towards you. This is destiny. My goddess of tits. I always knew it. Just when I needed your energy the most, you appeared." He dropped to his knees. "I need you tonight," he begged.

Mo Qingchen was about to blow his lid. What sort of lewd conversation was this?

Qian Meng rolled her eyes at Marcus' crazy theatrics. He was always eccentric, but equally king. The man didn't have a mean bone in his body.

"I'll spend tomorrow with you, what say you? I am staying a couple of extra days to see the shows and get in some meetings." Her tone was soft but dismissive.

"After the shows tomorrow, come to the after-party. Without you at the show, it will be a dark vortex of endless pain." He grabbed her hand like a lifeline and looked up at her pleadingly.

"Stop being so dramatic. Your show will be amazing even if I didn't go." She paused. "I am going anyway," she added when she saw the pained expression on his face.

"I'm not attending the after-party if you're not there. I made a note on the bathroom door to call you tomorrow but now I won't need to because you are here." The man leaned down and kissed her feet.

Qian Meng shuffled back. Damn this pill-popping Elmo. How could she say no to him?

"I'll be there. What time?" Marcus jumped up and grabbed her, pulling her flat against his chest in a crushing hug before releasing her.