CITM - 32

Lately, Ye Yun had been receiving a lot of work. Many young female customers came specifically asking for her to make clothes for them. This was likely due to the unexpected results of her staying up late into the night for days on end. Normally, most customers brought their own fabric and specified what kind of clothing they wanted, leaving Ye Yun with little opportunity to incorporate some of her more innovative ideas into their designs.

She had come across numerous fashionable elements in magazines and books, and had developed a habit of jotting down interesting ideas in a notebook. Occasionally, she would flip through it, holding pieces of fabric against the pages to study and experiment. In addition, over the past few months, as she had ventured out more often, her horizons had broadened, and her experiences had become richer. During those outings, she had passed by department stores several times. Though she couldn’t bring herself to buy any of the expensive items, she visited with a mindset of learning—observing the styles and fabrics of high-end ready-to-wear garments. These encounters gave her a wealth of inspiration and insight.

When she returned home, she began experimenting boldly using the fabrics she had on hand, along with leftover scraps from the shop. Once finished, she would try them on herself. Over time, her appearance became a living advertisement.

The women of Erwei Alley rarely had access to the latest styles, but they were fashion-conscious and enjoyed competing with one another. At some point, the women in the residential building began paying attention to Ye Yun’s outfits. If she happened to wear a particularly novel design one day, the next day someone would show up at her shop with fabric, requesting an identical piece.

Unlike Master Zhang, whose work remained consistent year after year—though skilled, he followed a strict and conventional approach, making adjustments based solely on customer requests—Ye Yun took a different approach. She always carefully inquired about preferences, styles, lengths, and whether there were any special occasions for wearing the garment. After patiently listening, she would offer gentle suggestions based on the customer’s figure, age, and demeanor.

Though her personality appeared reserved and conservative, when it came to clothing, she repeatedly demonstrated boldness and innovation. The same fabric, when placed in her hands, could be transformed into entirely new patterns—where to add pleats, where to sew buttons, where to embroider designs. She seemed to possess an innate understanding of clothing. Her work bore traces of Master Zhang’s meticulous attention to detail while also reflecting her unique personal style. These two elements blended seamlessly, allowing her to navigate effortlessly between tradition and innovation, earning her increasing favor among younger customers.

After the dog days of summer, the weather should have cooled down, but recently, the air pressure had been unusually low, as if a storm was imminent. However, despite lingering for several days, the rain never arrived, leaving the air damp and heavy.

Ye Yun’s usual walk home from the tailor shop was leisurely enough that she didn’t find it unbearable. But today, riding her new bicycle for the first time, excitement and nervousness combined left her feeling stifled by the time she parked the bike and reached home.

She loosened the top button of her collar and stepped into the hallway in her small leather shoes. This was just another ordinary afternoon in the residential building. People were returning from work, children gathered in groups downstairs to jump rope or play hopscotch, and the stray dogs kept by the first-floor residents wagged their tails as they ran around. The setting sun filtered through thick clouds, casting a dim, eerie yellow light. It reminded her faintly of the shadow plays from her childhood—real yet tinged with an illusory quality.

Her steps, which should have led directly toward the stairwell, paused momentarily under the spell of this surreal atmosphere. She turned her gaze toward the horizon for a second longer. Just at that moment, a sudden splash interrupted her reverie—a cascade of water landed squarely before her feet, soaking her shoes.

Children nearby stopped their games to stare at her, and the stray dogs barked incessantly, startled. Ye Yun, shocked by the unexpected downpour of water from above, looked around. The corridor bustled as usual—people cooking, sweeping, chatting. The entire building swayed before her eyes, distorted by the eerie glow of the horizon, like a grotesque, jagged mountain.

After a brief pause, she collected herself and walked into the stairwell. Just as she was about to reach her floor, she suddenly stopped, turned, and headed toward another part of the corridor.

Her figure appeared gracefully in the hallway, her long hair tied back, revealing delicate and refined features. Though Bai Wenfu’s family lived upstairs, Ye Yun’s presence on this floor naturally drew attention. She finally stopped in front of the Lü family’s door.

Lü Ping was bent over scooping rice when she sensed a figure behind her. Turning her head, she saw Ye Yun standing quietly behind her. Ye Yun wore a stylish, angular-collared blouse paired with a high-waisted plaid skirt, accentuating her narrow waist and soft, elegant curves that immediately caught the eye.

Lü Ping set down the scoop, straightened up, and examined Ye Yun with a smile. “Just got off work?”

Ye Yun lowered her gaze to the wet spots on her leather shoes, her voice calm and devoid of emotion: “Was that water you poured?”

Lü Ping followed her gaze downward and laughed. “Why would I pour water on you?”

Ye Yun tilted her head and glanced at the wooden basin stand in the corridor. She raised a finger and traced the edge of the basin.

Lü Ping stared intently at Ye Yun. As her fingertip touched the basin, a subtle change flickered across her otherwise casual expression.

Ye Yun lifted her wrist, twirled the moisture on her fingertips, and looked directly at Lü Ping. Her gaze was clear and penetrating. “If you’re upset with me, you can confront me directly. There’s no need to resort to these petty actions. I considered you a friend. This isn’t very meaningful.”

Lü Ping frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t pour water on you, nor did I do anything to you. What do you mean, I’m upset with you? I’d say you have an issue with me. You’re accusing me of something I didn’t do. That’s not like you! If it were anyone else, I’d have started yelling by now.”

Ye Yun’s eyelashes drooped slightly, her nose reddening, and a fleeting look of disappointment crossed her face.

“What about that dress of mine? Does it have nothing to do with you?”

Lü Ping’s lips tightened, a hint of anger surfacing.

“Don’t slander me. Which eye saw me ruin your dress? Don’t I have to go to work during the day? If you don’t believe me, check my workplace for any leave records.”

Lü Ping stood tall, speaking forcefully and indignantly, as though wrongfully accused.

In contrast, Ye Yun gazed at her coolly, her watery eyes holding a trace of sorrow.

Faced with Lü Ping’s vehement denial, Ye Yun fell silent for a moment before speaking. “The dress wasn’t cut with the standard No. 2 fabric scissors, nor with the common No. 3 or No. 4. Based on the dullness of the cut and the pattern of the tear, the blade used was finer—a 10-inch fabric shear. Of course, such scissors are small and easy to conceal in a sleeve without being noticed, but doing so exposes the culprit. Not everyone owns a pair of 10-inch fabric shears, but Aijuan happens to have one. When I asked her about it, she said it was you who told her to do it.”

A slight distortion flickered across Lü Ping’s face as she immediately denied it. “What do you mean, I told her to do it? If she didn’t want to do it, would my words have mattered?”

The natural light dimmed further, and a gust of wind blew into the corridor, lifting the ends of Lü Ping’s hair. At that moment, she saw the growing coldness in Ye Yun’s eyes and a detachment she had never seen before.

Lü Ping’s face turned pale. Suddenly, realization dawned on her.

Ye Yun, as a tailor who worked daily with fabrics, possessed a keen eye for detail. Lü Ping hadn’t doubted Ye Yun’s judgment regarding the fabric tear and had impulsively denied it. But in doing so, she had already incriminated herself.

Ye Yun had indeed carefully studied the torn dress earlier. She deduced that it might have been cut with fabric shears, but since she hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, everything was merely speculation. Aijuan did indeed own a pair of fabric shears, but Ye Yun had never confronted her about it.

She mentioned it because the day before the dress was ruined, Ye Yun had worn it home with Bai Wenfu. Just before entering her house, she turned and saw Lü Ping pat Aijuan’s shoulder, saying something to her.

She didn’t need to know what was said—Lü Ping’s reaction confirmed her suspicions. Ye Yun hadn’t intended to hold anyone accountable; she simply came to get an answer and put the matter to rest.

After Lü Ping’s denial, Ye Yun said nothing. She turned and walked away, the sound of her leather shoes echoing hollowly in the corridor.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

Her footsteps halted abruptly. Lü Ping stared at her back, her bewildered eyes losing focus as she fell into the abyss of memory.

“At that time, we both lived near Daokou, on the Siping side. My family lived behind his. You’ve never seen him as he was back then. In our neighborhood, no one could run faster than him. Climbing trees to fetch bird nests, catching loaches in the river, fishing for shrimp. During the famine years, families couldn’t even feed themselves, but as long as we kids followed him, we could fill our stomachs.

When others encountered venomous snakes and ran away in fear, he didn’t flinch. Instead, he grabbed them barehanded. From a young age, he feared nothing. No matter how much trouble we caused, he always shielded us. Do you understand this feeling?”

Ye Yun turned around, meeting Lü Ping’s pained gaze from a few steps away.

“But then he changed. His leg was broken, and scars marred his face. He never smiled again, became indifferent to everyone, and ceased to be the person who once protected us. That once vibrant and spirited individual returned unable to chase after people who threw stones at him. He could only watch helplessly, unable to utter a single curse. I don’t know why he became so despondent, so unlike himself.

My family urged me to cancel the engagement. I hesitated, afraid that marrying him would bring shame upon my family too.”

Tears welled up in Lü Ping’s eyes as she stepped closer to Ye Yun.

“I was just momentarily afraid and retreated. Before you came, I had already made up my mind. I spoke to him, but he refused. So what? He served time in prison, killed a man, has no job, and is disabled. No one would marry him. Over time, he would eventually agree. He couldn’t remain single forever. If it weren’t for you...”

Her resentment surged to the corners of her eyes. “Do you know why I helped you when you first arrived, when others looked down on you?”

An unshakable emptiness lingered in Ye Yun’s eyes.

“Because I thought of you as a sister-in-law. But what about you? You ended up in his brother’s bed.”

Each word pierced Ye Yun’s heart like needles, brutally assaulting her. She had spent considerable effort convincing herself to ignore those harsh remarks—not because she truly didn’t care, but because what woman wouldn’t care about her reputation? The situation was what it was, and life had to go on.

But when such morally reprehensible accusations were laid bare before her, she still couldn’t remain indifferent.

“Wenbin is gone!”

Ye Yun bit down hard on her words, clenching her fists. She had thought she could ignore it, remain unaffected. Yet, when those words invaded her mind, her heart still trembled, still cared.

It was because Wenbin was gone that she had followed Bai Wenfu. She hadn’t done anything immoral or scandalous.

She was making Lü Ping face the truth, but more importantly, she was convincing herself.

Occasionally, passersby glanced over, but they couldn’t hear what the two were discussing.

The bleak autumn winds carried dried leaves from west to east, mingling with the scent of rain-soaked wells and chimneys.

Lü Ping reached out and pulled Ye Yun’s collar aside, revealing an ambiguous red mark on her collarbone—a vivid and glaring trace of passion.

“He must adore you, doesn’t he?” Tears filled her eyes as she spoke.

Ye Yun brushed her hand away, unable to bear hearing any more. She turned and walked away without looking back.

Lü Ping had genuinely cared for her during those early days in the city. Her companionship, assistance, and concern had all been real. But often, people couldn’t have it all, and things rarely went as hoped.

As Ye Yun stepped onto the staircase, her last remaining friendship in this residential building came to an end. From now on, even maintaining appearances was unnecessary.

Her throat felt as though it were being choked, and a hard lump in her chest pounded relentlessly, causing a dull ache.

By the time she climbed the final step and turned the corner of the corridor, her steps faltered. It was as if she had fallen into a dream. The distant horizon resembled a vast black curtain, about to consume the last rays of twilight. Dust swirled into the air, obscuring her vision, turning everything into an illusion. She even thought she saw Wenbin, standing at the far end of the corridor, gazing at her with longing eyes.

Ye Yun froze, her feet feeling as though they were weighed down by lead. Her blood seemed to solidify instantly, and she stood rooted to the spot.

The distant figure stirred, taking steps toward her—through storms, through nightmares, through countless days on the brink of despair, heading straight for her.

Ye Yun’s gaze trembled violently. She raised her hand and fastened the top button of her collar.