Chapter Sixty-Two: Attire

This building had more than ten floors in total, with the first to sixth all dedicated to clothing businesses. Because of this, Zhang Ye and his party were in no hurry; they strolled along at a leisurely pace, pausing now and then to chat with other buyers, inquiring about market trends and the latest fashions.

As it happened, they encountered a friendly woman around the same age as Liu Meiju. The two struck up a conversation and soon discovered that both were novices in the trade, which gave them even more to talk about. Both were rather clueless at first, so they exchanged ideas, questioned sales clerks, and picked up bits of information, quickly gaining a decent understanding of the local market.

Thanks to Zhang Ye’s earlier advice and the observations she’d made in Guangyang City, Liu Meiju had already decided to purchase some Korean-imported clothing this time. The other woman, a local of Guangyang, planned to stock up on casual wear. Thus, when they reached the third floor, they parted ways.

The fifth and sixth floors were devoted to imported apparel. As Zhang Ye and his group ascended, they immediately noticed the number of customers dwindling. Those who remained walked with an air of confidence, almost as though they were inherently a cut above the rest.

At this time, foreign goods were synonymous with luxury. No matter the item, as long as it had a foreign connection, the price was exorbitant. Yet, the higher the cost, the greater the demand—people flocked to buy, and even more aspired to own.

Here, both the salespeople and the shoppers wore expressions of pride, clearly relishing their sense of superiority.

Zhang Ye understood this near-distorted mentality and paid it little mind. However, when he saw Liu Meiju, full of enthusiasm, grasping a salesgirl’s hand to ask a question, only to be met with a look of open disdain, his anger flared.

He admitted that compared to the locals of Guangyang, their attire was plain. Zhang Ye wore a short-sleeved, checkered shirt he’d bought last year. Now that he’d grown, it was a bit tight. His trousers were fabric, many of them hand-sewn—while not quite so, the style was simple and obviously inexpensive. He wasn’t picky about clothes and made do.

Liu Wentao and Wu Dongjun were a bit better dressed. Knowing they were coming to the city, they’d picked out clean, trendy outfits. Especially Liu Wentao, who wore the clothes Aunt Mei had bought for him—Zhang Ye had only ever seen him wear them once before, and they looked quite cool.

But Liu Meiju was different. Always frugal, she hadn’t bought new clothes in three, four, even five or six years. She even had a small hole in one piece, and the fabric had faded from years of washing. She hardly stood out.

Perhaps it was this that made the fashion-conscious salesgirl regard them with such disdain. Liu Meiju didn’t notice, but Zhang Ye saw it clearly.

“Why are you asking so many questions? We don’t do retail here. If you want cheap stuff, go buy from the street stalls outside,” the salesgirl said, yanking her hand away impatiently.

“Miss, what’s with your attitude? Do you think we can’t afford it?” Liu Meiju retorted, eyes wide with indignation.

“Isn’t it obvious? Look at the lot of you, dressed like paupers. You think you can afford these clothes? Every piece is imported and costs at least sixty yuan each. How many could you buy with your monthly wage?” The salesgirl, about twenty-five or twenty-six, with thin lips and a sharp face, spoke even more harshly.

“How can you talk like that?” Liu Wentao glared and shouted angrily.

Unexpectedly, this only made the salesgirl more brazen. She put her hands on her hips and raised her chin. “So what if I talk like that? If you can’t afford it, don’t come in here. What are you getting mad for? You think I’m scared of you?” She was the very image of a shrew, growing more pleased the more they argued.

Zhang Ye was furious, tempted to slap her right then and there. Seeing his mother insulted hurt him more than if he’d been insulted himself, and his anger burned even hotter.

He drew a deep breath, forced down his fury, and pulled Liu Meiju back before she could say more. “Don’t stoop to her level. I’ve heard sales here work on commission. We just won’t give her our money. There’s another store across the way that also sells Korean imports—let’s buy from them.” He shot the salesgirl a fierce glare and led the others across the hall.

Some shoppers nearby had been drawn over by the commotion and now looked at the salesgirl with mixed expressions. True, Zhang Ye and his group weren’t dressed in finery, but if they came to buy clothes, what did it matter how they were dressed? And besides, how could she know whether they could afford it or not?

“I’m so angry. That girl has no manners at all,” Liu Meiju fumed. She was sociable enough in everyday life but had no talent for arguing. She couldn’t bring herself to be as brash as some women, rolling on the floor and hurling curses.

“Mom, don’t let it bother you. We just won’t buy from her. This wholesale market is huge, with plenty of other stores. If they don’t get our business, that’s their loss, not ours.” Though he said this, he knew that sometimes losing face stung more than losing money.

Zhang Ye also realized that his mother had never been so slighted before. Back home, working for a state-owned enterprise, she was always treated with respect. This was the first time someone had looked down on her.

The thought made his anger flare again. But this wasn’t like the future, where strict business regulations allowed for complaints and lawsuits. Quarreling with her would only bring more trouble. So Zhang Ye could only lead his group away to the store across the hall.

Rival shops were natural enemies, all the more so when separated by barely two or three meters and selling the same goods. The best way to exact revenge was to give their business to a direct competitor, letting the offender see it but not benefit from it—and hopefully regret her behavior.

“How much for a set of clothes like this? And if we buy in bulk, what’s the discount?” Zhang Ye asked loudly, making sure the salesgirl across the way could hear.

“Hello! All our clothes are genuine Korean imports, complete with original packaging, so each piece is one yuan more—normally sixty yuan, but with the packaging, it’s sixty-one. For bulk orders, the minimum is one hundred pieces, no discount. For five hundred, we offer a two percent discount; for a thousand, five percent. Our prices are the lowest in this area—you’ll definitely be satisfied,” replied the salesgirl, a pretty, sweet-voiced young woman of about twenty. Her respectful tone made Zhang Ye’s group feel welcome, and their spirits lifted.

PS: I have something to attend to tomorrow and will be out, but updates shouldn’t be delayed. I’ll schedule them in advance. If there’s nothing posted, it must be a system glitch—I’ll check in as often as I can.