280. Facing the handsome figures, three musicians diligently played lewd music. At a glance, the hall was filled with men and women embracing, lost in their own world of song and dance. He provocatively said...
"You don't dare to hug me in public? You don't dare?"
A delicate and brilliant lamp hung in the hall, its glass shimmering like shattered diamonds, radiating a captivating charm. The floor gleamed, as if reflecting everyone's secrets from beneath their feet, leaving no one to hide. Low-hanging blue velvet curtains draped down. Velvet, cool to the eye but warm to the touch, always gave one a hazy, dreamlike feeling, a sense of being unable to control oneself, unable to believe that one was making delicate, uncomfortable dance steps to the music. She fell into his arms, gradually moving from slight motion to stillness, the two swaying within a small, confined space. He openly captured her; she openly surrendered to him.
Tang Huaiyu felt that he had become very comfortable playing the role of an outstanding figure in Shanghai, and everyone was watching his extraordinary background.
Even in the confluence of the streets, a place frequented by the elite Chinese, everyone was of high status, but those whose names were familiar to the public were considered even more superior.
The music ended, the crowd dispersed, and everyone drifted off to sleep.
Huaiyu couldn't sleep, so she looked out the window. The sky was filled with countless stars, bustling and chaotic, yet somehow conveying a sense of lively activity. All of Shanghai, this unfamiliar city, was beginning to quietly fall asleep. The air was transparent; through it, she appeared as still and deep as a baby.
Her face was silvery-white. She often said, "I haven't had a good night's sleep in years, but now I can finally relax. My soul can roam freely, entirely because I'm at ease." A slight smile played on her lips.
Huaiyu turned on the lamp and glanced at the alarm clock; it was 3:30. An alarm clock—in the past, in Beiping they were called "wake-up clocks," and were quite rare.
The glass was pressed tightly against Huaiyu's photo, so tightly that it was like an ironclad case. He remembered her saying: "Now you're all set, you can't escape from now on."
As he intently spied on her with a lamp lit in the middle of the night, Duan's maid suddenly awoke, as if still entangled in a sweet dream, struggling to break free. After a while, she cried out in a touch of melancholy, "I want to dream! I don't want to wake up! I don't want to wake up!"
Seeing Huaiyu beside her, Mu panicked and hugged him tightly, saying:
"Say something nice to me—"
As she spoke, tears welled up in her eyes, a childlike glint in her eyes. Huaiyu whispered:
"I'm here, I'm here."
“The Bible says,” Duan the prostitute laughed, “that a good word is like an apple of gold falling into a net.”
Huaiyu cherished her as if she were a child. It was truly a loving relationship between husband and wife. Stepping into this place, the silver net? He transformed into a golden apple. They were no longer lonely.
Only one person is lonely.
Song Mudan. Dandan also lives on Xiafei Road, settled in another house in this upscale residential area. She has a maid, a driver, and a well-arranged female secretary; the proper poise has been prepared for her in advance. She has undergone a complete transformation, but her true nature hasn't disappeared. The most painful thing is that she ultimately lacks a natural, radiant beauty. She's not one of us.
She couldn't compare to any of Mr. Kim's new loves. — She wasn't a new love, she was an "old flame."
Jin Xiaofeng valued Dandan's freedom, only checking on her progress every few days.
Dandan was getting impatient trying on new clothes and hairstyles every day, and simply said:
"This kind of transformation is endless, and they won't let me make movies anymore. I'm quitting!"
Before even reaching the kitchen, half a head peeked out:
"I'll go make some noodles, Mr. Jin, would you like some?"
"Download it yourself?"
"They didn't suit my taste."
She handled everything herself in the kitchen. She knew how to use the tap water and the tap fire.
Finally, two large bowls of noodles were brought out—a common household snack—and Dandan was very pleased.
"Look, this is a 'whole nest of shredded ingredients', which includes shredded noodles, shredded meat, shredded egg, as well as shredded dried shrimp, wood ear mushrooms, and cucumber. It's very delicious."
While eating, he kept praising it:
"I can also make flatbread, dumplings, and steam crabs. But once I become a star, I won't have time to do those things."
Jin Xiaofeng looked at her with great interest.
"Mr. Jin... you said I don't look like a celebrity, right?"
“Yes. Not bad enough.” He laughed.
"Of course I can be bad. Kind women are all stupid—they'll be half-dead for bad men."
She paused, and through the reddish steam, pressed on:
When can I become a star?
He had a sudden inspiration:
“She’s not just a pretty face, why bother with all the fanfare? We should just go with the flow.”
The southern part of Shanghai was bustling with activity that day.
The Penglai Market was inaugurated on this day, and a ceremony was held. In recent years, there had been both the September 18th Incident and the February 28th Incident, and the entire country had launched an anti-Japanese national salvation movement. However, Shanghai's economy had developed abnormally; Japanese and foreign goods still flooded the market, while domestic goods plummeted in value and had no future.
Rumors circulated that Mr. Jin's funds partly came from the Japanese, which inevitably earned him the label of "traitor." —However, everyone was now pointing curiously at the banner hanging high in the market, which bore the four large, blood-red characters "Homespun Cloth Movement." A moment later, flashes of camera light led to a beautiful young woman in a light rouge-red cheongsam, reaching to her feet, with slits below her knees and double slits at the hem and collar. The young woman became the center of attention, a mix of nervous excitement and awe. Then it was announced: "Miss Song Mudan."
Jin Xiaofeng, seizing the opportunity, subtly sponsored this "homemade cloth movement." The fabric for the cheongsams was provided by the fabric store, and the clothing store worked overnight to produce them, with the aim of attracting Xu's customers and promoting domestic products. However, Mr. Jin also intended to promote the fabric as "freedom cloth" or "patriotic cloth," because with this meaning, no one would doubt his "patriotic" mentality anymore.
Furthermore, today they elected a "Queen of Homemade Cloth," none other than the naturally beautiful Song Peony before us. Mr. Jin gently patted her on the back, signaling her to swing her golden scissors, and the market erupted in cheers. Everyone immediately accepted such a "dignified" queen. They applauded and shouted:
"Miss Song! Miss Song!"
People swarmed around her asking for autographs—all she needed to do was hire a few extras to lead the commotion, and everything would fall into place. Dandan caught a glimpse of someone waving in the crowd, and she smiled slightly. —It was Shen Lifang.
The news spread like wildfire, and within days, Mr. Jin's status and Ms. Song's reputation were affirmed.
The market also lit a string of firecrackers, which crackled and popped for a long time.
Dandan was very happy. Everyone has a fire in their heart, and she lit it—he cared for her so tenderly.