Chapter 99

Rejuvenate being Cerulean's top line, close to ten million went into publicity domestically alone — domestically, because it was launching worldwide. When the sample first succeeded, Feng Jiang had begun applying for approvals abroad, and national standards differing, after several rounds of adjustment the laboratory had got them.

For the other countries Cerulean took a counter in each one's busiest store: Times Square in New York, Galeries Lafayette in Paris, and dedicated counters in Japan and Korea — groundwork for separating Rejuvenate from everything else, the aim being to build it into a range of its own, as La Mer sits under Estée Lauder. Rejuvenate had only the cream for now, and it would fill out in time, and the serum was already in development.

At the launch on New Year's Day 2014, the invited journalists and industry people were astonished at the scale of it. At 2,599 the cream was the ceiling of domestic cosmetics — the only thousand-yuan domestic cream in existence, and whether it could break the prejudice against domestic goods was unknown, and Cerulean had dared to price it at 2,599, distribute it worldwide, and set the overseas price a thousand yuan above the domestic one. Had the leadership lost its mind? On investment at that scale, failure could very well pull the company down.

The industry, for its part, settled in to watch. To their eyes this small five-year-old brand was walking into its own grave; the sea buckthorn sunscreen had been the top seller two years running and it wasn't possible not to resent that, and now it appeared they needn't bother interfering — Cerulean would finish itself off.

Feng Jiang knew it was a gamble. The overseas positioning plus the global publicity, on top of Cerulean's running costs, had exhausted every liquid asset it had, with a substantial bank loan besides. As everybody guessed, failure might genuinely mean bankruptcy. He hadn't originally intended anything this large — and a conversation with Li Lan had given him the nerve for it, and remembering what she'd said he hardened his heart, and after talking to Zhang Lin the three of them decided to take the bet.

Journalists began drafting on the way back from the launch. Nothing beside the doings of celebrities, and the hooks here were abundant: the most expensive cream in the country; domestic brands rise, global launch; would you pay 2,599 for a Chinese face cream? Any of them was enough to catch an eye. At the same time, the Weibo creators released their videos.

With that much heat, the launch reached the trending list quickly — helped, naturally, by Cerulean's marketing department pushing quietly.

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Cai Jing was the classic well-off young woman, whose great interest was make-up. Not needing to earn a living, she'd come to Paris after graduating to study make-up technique, and had been there four years. As the child of money, her chief daily pleasure was Galeries Lafayette — partly to see whether anything good turned up, partly to develop her eye, and not without a good deal of buying, which to her wasn't buying but cultivating a sense of what was current. Sharing her Paris life on Weibo had accumulated an audience who enjoyed watching her buy things.

On New Year's Day, scrolling, she saw two adjacent trends. Cerulean's thousand-yuan domestic face cream launches worldwide.

Before and after: the thousand-yuan domestic cream.

She clicked, curious. With one foot in the industry she'd handled a great many cosmetics, and honestly her impression of domestic ones was poor — not out of contempt, but because the domestic industry made her despair: no interest in innovation, endless copying, and quality that worried her. Cerulean was one of the few brands she thought well of, one reason being that its sea buckthorn sunscreen was her favourite sunscreen, without qualification, on the strength of which she'd bought other Cerulean products, and those were good too, some of them not behind the major brands. A company that took its work seriously.

Reading, she found the move genuinely large: counters at Lafayette and Times Square, and rent at two of the biggest stores in Paris and New York is not low. Evidently they were confident.

The other trend was a video from Achy Orange, a creator she followed, which she assumed was Cerulean's advertising, and having nothing else to do she opened it. It wasn't long — a few minutes for both — and afterwards she couldn't help searching resveratrol. She'd trained in make-up, not chemistry, and similar names notwithstanding, the two fields have nothing whatever to do with each other, so beyond common things like hyaluronic acid she knew little about chemical ingredients.

She was sceptical about the effect in the video; the before and after was too extreme. She didn't deny a cream could get there — over a long period. Doubtful about it and undeniably curious, and it being only noon in France, and the news saying there was a counter at Lafayette, she might as well go and buy one and see whether it was an idiot tax. If it was, there'd be time to say so; she had followers, after all.

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In England, Li Lan was following it too. Busy as she was, the launch mattered, and on New Year's Day she went to the counter in France to see how it was selling and to buy a couple in support of her own product.

The counter was in a slightly out-of-the-way corner of Lafayette, the better positions being held by established brands. It was small, with two salespeople, one French and one Chinese. Approaching, she found that while a good deal of product was displayed, a closer look showed only one line, which was genuinely thin. They'd want other products soon; once the laboratory had the serum she'd produce the eye cream formulation.

She watched for an hour. Lafayette being the largest store in France, out-of-the-way or not there were plenty of people passing, and most walked off once they'd asked the price. At the current rate of eight yuan to the euro, Rejuvenate was priced at 449 euros in Europe, which is a burden abroad as well. In the hour she watched, two were sold — in visible contrast to the counter beside it.

Having seen enough, she went to buy two, and the bored salesperson came over warmly, and seeing black hair, asked in English, "Hello. Are you Chinese?"

At her nod, the woman warmed further and switched to Chinese. "How lucky. I'm Chinese too, and it's a Chinese brand. Let me tell you about it."

Li Lan didn't refuse, being interested in the standard of the pitch, and the woman delivered it as trained, and Li Lan nodded along. The training was sound; the coverage was thorough.

Taking the nodding for satisfaction, she grew warmer still — and sure enough was asked for two, which she found gratifying. Her selling was in good order.

Li Lan was at the till behind her when a very clear Chinese voice came from behind. "Be Young? Jingjing, is that the Rejuvenate counter you were talking about?"

Chinese, heard here, is pleasant, and she turned to find two young women arm in arm, examining the counter.

It was Cai Jing and a friend, who'd eaten nearby and come to look — partly for anything new, and partly because Cai Jing wanted to see this thousand-yuan cream.

Cai Jing hesitated. The news had given the overseas name as that, she thought, without being certain; familiar with Cerulean as she was, this was the first time she'd seen the Rejuvenate mark. Going closer and finding the Chinese beside it, she confirmed it. "That's it."

Her friend examined the counter. "So there really is a counter at Lafayette?"

Cai Jing looked at her as at an idiot. "Obviously. Cerulean's a company with some reputation. They're not going to tell a lie that comes apart at a touch."

The friend grinned. "It's just unusual. The position is very out of the way, though — it took us ages to find."

Cai Jing didn't think much of it. "That's normal. The good positions here were taken long ago, and getting a counter here at all is impressive. Out of the way, and at least it's on the ground floor and not far from Estée Lauder and Louis Vuitton, which lifts the product's image immediately." Her family was in business and she understood a little of this.

Her friend nodded. "True. I wonder how long they'll last, though. Let's hope they don't shut within a month. Come on, let's see what they've got."

Li Lan had finished paying, and having nothing on, sat down to see whether they'd buy. They'd plainly come deliberately, and being Chinese had presumably seen the trend — so buying trending placement did work. First day and people were arriving.

Two more Chinese customers, and the French salesperson had to step aside. Watching her colleague go over, she privately resolved to learn Chinese, or every Chinese tourist would keep going to her colleague. Unaware of having inspired a foreign friend to study the language, the Chinese salesperson was warm as ever — two sold in the morning, and three customers just now, so the morning's figures weren't disastrous. Knowing the company's position, she'd been afraid of selling nothing at all on the first day. The more people the better, and then she'd keep her job.

Cai Jing's friend made friends easily, and with Cai Jing listening to the pitch and cosmetics being of no interest to her, she went over to the woman sitting nearby. "Hello — Chinese?"

Li Lan nodded, recognised that as a conversation-killer, and asked, "Did you come specially?"

The friend looked round. "Yes. My friend saw the trend and wanted to look, so I came along. I hadn't expected the counter to sell only one product. That's rather more limited than I'd imagined."

While the two of them talked, Cai Jing began trying a tester under the salesperson's guidance. She took a little and spread it on the back of her hand, and considered the texture: a white cream, easily spread, absorbed quickly; leaning in, a faint clean scent. On feel and smell she was satisfied. What it did was another matter.

Which decided her, and she paid readily; four hundred-odd euros was not much to her. Whether it was worth it remained to be seen.

Seeing her pay so readily, and remembering her own cream was nearly gone, the friend bought one too. Unlike Cai Jing she wasn't particular about cosmetics — anything would do — and having seen Cai Jing buy, she thought no further and took one home.

That evening before washing, Cai Jing posted: Rejuvenate acquired. Awaiting results. Hoping not to be disfigured.

Comments came quickly. Rich lady, feed us. Buying a 2,599 cream just like that.

More than 2,599 — she's in Paris, and the overseas price is another thousand on top.

Fast as ever. Waiting for the verdict.

Washed, she put it on with some trepidation. Between the make-up and the late nights her skin wasn't good, so she took skincare extremely seriously — using the most expensive cream to stay up the most expensive nights described her exactly. Which is why she'd been through a great many products, some good and some disastrous, the worst of which had nearly disfigured her. And even so, a new product still had her trying it, because for every disaster there were finds.

With a great deal of experience behind her, her impression the instant it went on was comfort. Slightly uncanny, and without exaggeration, spread on she could distinctly feel it feeding her skin; half an hour with no itching, and she went to bed reassured, waiting for tomorrow.

Getting up muzzily the next day after a very late night, she'd forgotten she was supposed to be observing anything — until, brushing her teeth, she looked in the mirror and something wasn't right. Was her colour a shade brighter?

She snapped awake, took a hand mirror onto the balcony and back inside repeatedly, and established that her skin genuinely was slightly better. A small change, and she saw her own face daily and the smallest change couldn't escape her. And it wasn't the effect of optical brighteners, whose whiteness is a great deal more obvious. Not quite able to believe it was the cream, and with no discomfort, she decided to keep going.

A week later, her followers scrolled past this: Favourite cream, no explanation required. Rejuvenate is incredible. Anyone who wants lines gone and dullness fixed, get on it. The first photograph was a carefully tended jar of Rejuvenate; the second, an assortment of luxury creams thrown in a heap. The difference in status was not subtle.