“Miss Duan, why do I have so much free time? You're not feeling well, so you should just lie down and rest. I haven't come all this way to talk to you, and it seems like I'm just taking up your time—”
Hearing Huaiyu's stubbornness, Duan Pingting couldn't help but burst into laughter! She said:
"Little Tang, you're so cute, not sly at all."
When he laughed, he leaned back, his chest bulging out dramatically, obscuring what was underneath. Even through the thinnest layer, it was still impossible to see—Huaiyu glanced at him and was horrified. In this early spring, the indoor heating had actually made him break out in a sweat. He couldn't help but glance again, never expecting such greed.
Duan Pingting had never found it so difficult to seduce even a monk. She asked:
"How old are you?"
Twenty-one. And you?
"Hey, it's impolite of you to ask a lady's age."
"You asked first. How old are you?"
"About the same as you."
"Is he older or younger than me?" Huaiyu twisted his tongue, as if she was deliberately teasing him, so he had to keep pressing her for an answer.
"Oh dear, don't be so desperate."
—Thinking to herself, "Truly remarkable. Not answering means she's older than him." She lacked any semblance of social grace. Her eyes gazed at him with undisguised indulgence. Huaiyu didn't avoid her gaze, but asked directly;
What do you really want from me?
"You're my savior. Let me change my clothes and we'll go shopping."
Duan Pingting changed into a grayish-purple cheongsam, deliberately trying to keep a low profile. The dress only covered her knees, making it a little inconvenient to walk in, but because she moved quickly, people could clearly see the three rows of fabric along the hem. While others only wore single or double cheongsams, hers was three-dimensional, with incredibly exquisite craftsmanship, tinged with a hint of peach-colored hue, which she then covered with a dark gray coat.
Just as she was about to leave, she said again:
"No, I want a different lipstick. I won't use my usual one—it's for you. Okay?"
Sure enough, they changed to a milder one, and Huaiyu dared not say it was bad.
The driver took the two to Nanjing Road, and the young lady told him to wait. She then went into Huiluo Company to look at fabrics, but none of them quite suited her taste—moonlight linen, Tromeline linen, or Bridge Silk linen. She simply said to Huaiyu:
"The thought of changing seasons gives me a headache."
Seeing that he didn't react, she grabbed his arm.
"Oh? Are you bored? Did something piss you off? -- This isn't you keeping me company, it's me keeping you company as a thank you!"
"No, I'm just afraid of making a fool of myself."
"Really! Only those who pay are treated like royalty. Come on, have you ever been to Yong'an?"
I've heard of them, but I've never had the time to come. Besides, these department stores on Nanjing Road sell high-end goods: British woolens, French cosmetics, Swiss watches, French hardware, American electronics, Czech glassware, and even toilet paper has a line of foreign text printed on it, indicating that it's an imported product.
The customers are either foreigners or "high-class Chinese".
The people serving them were all dressed up beautifully, with smiling faces, and colorful flags fluttered in the air. Foreign drums and horns were played, creating a very impressive spectacle. Huaiyu felt like a country bumpkin.
Duan Pingting really is a bath fanatic. At the cosmetics counter, she bought bags and bags of shower gel, perfume, and soap using company-issued "gift certificates"—a seemingly random, yet enormous sum, the source of which was unknown. The saleswomen at the counter recognized her and were extremely enthusiastic and ingratiating.
Huaiyu slipped aside and suddenly saw a large color photograph.
It was Duan Pingting. She leaned back, holding an advertisement photo of a bar of soap. She looked like a completely different person, as if she had washed away all her makeup. There was also a passage of text on it:
The special features of Lishang soap are its white color, rich fragrance, fine texture, and abundant lather. Using it not only cleanses and hygienic the skin, but also protects it, keeping the skin soft and delicate for a long time.
Before leaving, he signed off with a flamboyant "Hello, Aunt Duan".
After the two finished shopping and turned to leave, a whisper came from above the counter: "Hey, no matter what she uses to bathe, she's 'dirty'!"
"Who is beside me? It doesn't look like a household registration."
"Either he's a nobody, or he's a gigolo!"
"Doesn't seem like it. She's quite the type. She's the one fawning over him. What's her background?"
After shopping at Wing On Plaza, they went to Sincere Plaza, which had already taken up most of the day. Duan Pingting was very satisfied but also tired. When they arrived at the coffee shop on the top floor of Sincere Plaza, she ordered:
"Ice cream sundae!"
Huaiyu quickly advised, "You're not fully recovered yet, and you have to film in a few days. Don't eat cold food."
"I insist!" she persisted, somewhat spoiled, hoping to get him to stop and discipline her once again.
—Who knew he only cared about her.
So they're just abandoning it again? Filled with resentment, she cursed:
"Although you saved me, you weren't very good to me!"
"It's not entirely because of you. In that situation, anyone would be in the same boat. How could you ruin yourself? I've heard it happened more than once. Suicide is no joke—"
"You have to say it's for my sake before I'll talk to you." The concubine was more willing to accept Fang Congxiang's plan after she forced him to admit it.
"yes--"
"Alright, I'm satisfied. But I won't say anything today, I'll tell you another day. This is for you."
Then he took out a beautifully wrapped gift, a long box. When he opened it, he found a fountain pen inside.
Huaiyu couldn't help but laugh: "You Shanghai people, everything is 'provided by us': tap blood, tap water, tap fire, tap fountain pen..."