Shao Xue’s company had many foreign employees, constantly coming up with new ideas to engage students while exhausting the teachers. In August, an American teacher insisted on hosting a costume party, and half the class texted Shao Xue to invite her. Forced to comply, she rummaged through her wardrobe.
Eventually, she found the qipao Jin Ning had once gifted her in her suitcase.
Some clothes are just magical. Wedding dresses abroad can be passed down from mother to daughter, while a qipao, no matter how many decades old, never seems outdated. After much effort, Shao Xue managed to squeeze herself into the blue qipao, but when she looked in the mirror, she was met with disappointment—it was too loose around the chest.
Taking off the dress, she lay on the bed in just her underwear, browsing for nearby qipao shops. Altering the chest area was a significant task, so she carefully reviewed the ratings and ultimately chose a shop two stops away called "Yun Jin Qipao Custom Tailoring."
The name sounded elegant, she thought.
Meanwhile, far away in Beijing, Bai Yun Sheng clinked his glass with Zheng Su Nian. "We’ve signed the contract for the third branch," he said.
Zheng Su Nian took a sip and then set his glass aside.
“What’s wrong with you?” Bai Yun Sheng asked, displeased. “Ever since Shao Xue came back, you’ve quit drinking and smoking. Isn't that a bit much?”
“You should cut back too. It's not good for your health.”
Bai Yun Sheng, his mood deflated, set down his glass. It made a sharp sound as the glass bottom hit the table. His phone buzzed with a text message, and he quickly replied.
A fleeting image of Gu Yun Jin’s profile crossed his mind.
“Still no word from Gu Yun Jin?” Zheng Su Nian asked casually.
“Mm,” Bai Yun Sheng responded with a grunt, quickly locking his phone.
“Come on, Bai Yun Sheng,” Zheng Su Nian leaned back, fixing him with a sharp look. “The other day, I saw Xue Ning getting into your car.”
Shao Xue, now dressed in a loose sweatshirt, wandered into the "Yun Jin Qipao" shop.
Although located on a busy commercial street, the storefront was small. The shop was lined with custom qipaos and fabrics, and at the back of the narrow space sat a woman.
Shao Xue had always thought she looked decent, and after years of travel, she had seen her fair share of beautiful women. But the moment that woman looked up, Shao Xue felt her breath catch.
“Are you here to get a qipao made?” the woman asked softly.
An awkward silence followed.
Back in Beijing, Bai Yun Sheng hesitated, his fingers unconsciously twisting the glass on the table. “Xue Ning’s father has helped me a lot. I owe him.”
“Then stop pretending to be righteous.”
Bai Yun Sheng froze. “Who are you calling out, Zheng Su Nian?”
“I’m calling you out.” Zheng Su Nian lifted his head, his eyes filled with contempt. “Am I wrong?”
“This can be altered,” the shop owner said with a slight smile. “Making something bigger is hard, but making it smaller is easy.”
Shao Xue nodded, unsure if she should feel relieved or sad.
There was a notebook in the shop, and Shao Xue walked over to write down her name and contact information. As she wrote, she struck up a conversation. “How long have you been running this place?”
“Four years.”
“Do you only make qipaos?”
“Yes, small orders. They’re easy to handle.”
“With haute couture so popular now, I have some friends who’ve gone that route. Your craftsmanship seems great—have you ever considered it?”
The woman thought for a moment and then shook her head. “I don’t want to. Things are fine as they are.”
Shao Xue nodded and double-checked her details.
“Your shop’s name is quite beautiful,” she remarked.
The woman smiled. “Yes, it is. Someone else chose it for me. But now, I’m the only owner.”
“Oh?” Shao Xue was curious. “What happened to that person?”
The woman’s expression remained calm. “He passed away.”
Shao Xue’s hand trembled, drawing a three-centimeter line through her writing. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ask.”
“It’s alright,” the shop owner said with a gentle smile, showing no sign of emotion. “He died a long time ago, but I only found out later.”
Shao Xue, at a loss for words, hesitated before offering, “We all meet death eventually. Stay strong.”
“Really, it’s fine. It happened so long ago that I don’t feel sad anymore.”
Seeing that the woman seemed genuinely unfazed, Shao Xue lowered her head and rewrote her phone number next to the smudged one.
The room was dimly lit.
A chair was overturned, and spilled alcohol soaked the floor. Three minutes earlier, Zheng Su Nian had slammed the door and left, leaving Bai Yun Sheng lying on the ground.
Broken glass scattered across the floor had cut into his arm, leaving several gashes. He struggled to get up, wincing as sharp pain shot through his palm.
Blood dripped slowly into the alcohol, forming a puddle of diluted red.
A sound came from the entrance, and the chandelier clicked on with a faint "thud."
Rapid footsteps echoed across the floor.
Xue Ning let out a startled scream at the sight of the mess before rushing to help Bai Yun Sheng.
“Stay back,” his voice was low, like a wounded wolf, causing Xue Ning to instinctively step back.
Staggering to his feet, Bai Yun Sheng’s mind played a reel of his life, like a movie—
At seventeen, he said, “Let’s both do what we love, okay?”
At twenty-one, he said, “You know my luck is always bad, so I can’t afford to miss anything.”
At twenty-five, he said, “I wish I could marry you.”
At twenty-six, he said, “You really don’t understand anything.”
This year, he was twenty-nine.
Twenty-nine, reeking of alcohol, covered in blood, burdened with memories that couldn’t be chased.
Bai Yun Sheng thought to himself, from this day forward, he was dead.
He was no longer Bai Yun Sheng but a person whose name even he didn’t know. The man who loved Gu Yun Jin was dead. The Bai Yun Sheng who had done countless unspeakable things was also dead.
Otherwise, he would have gone mad.
Now, he was a new person.
Then, he looked up and took Xue Ning’s hand.
“Let’s be together,” he said, disoriented, before collapsing to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “Xue Ning, let’s be together.”
Blood from his hand smeared onto Xue Ning’s flawless skin. Her hands had never known hardship, unlike Gu Yun Jin’s, whose fingers had thin calluses from a thimble and small punctures from needles.
Xue Ning knelt down and held his hand in return.
She had no choice. She loved this man.
From the moment she first saw him, she had been drawn to him.
“Alright,” she whispered.
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