Playing the "Fool" After Rebirth

When the white Continental GT pulled out of Quiet Garden, the sky had yet to darken.

Lu Chuan held the steering wheel with one hand. The car was silent. Only now did the breath he had been holding for the past few days finally ease out.

The final payment on the house was settled, the car was parked in his own parking space, and his bank balance had grown hefty again.

For most of the past half month, he had hardly stopped. Buying a house, buying a car, watching the market, signing contracts—not a single step could go wrong.

Now that everything was falling into place, he felt a little empty instead.

It wasn't that he had nothing to do.

He simply no longer had to stay on edge.

When he stopped at a red light, Lu Chuan glanced in the rearview mirror.

He looked the same as ever in the mirror: a plain white T-shirt, jeans, and hair he had barely bothered to style.

He didn't look shabby, just too casual.

In his previous life, he had loved fussing over these things: what to wear, which watch and shoes suited which occasion, even how much cuff to show. Now, looking back, it all seemed like a bother.

Still, comfortable as his clothes were, it really was time to get some new ones.

He had to report to school tomorrow, buy things for the dorm, and pick up a few more everyday outfits.

He had no other intention. He simply wanted to buy a few new clothes that were comfortable to wear.

Lu Chuan turned the steering wheel and drove straight into the underground garage of Jiangcheng's most upscale mall.

The garage was brightly lit, and the floor was clean enough to see your reflection in. After parking the Continental GT, Lu Chuan got out, locked the car, and took the elevator up a floor.

When the doors opened, he found himself in the luxury goods section.

It was almost too familiar.

He had been here plenty of times in his previous life.

Back then, he had treated the place like holy ground, believing that as long as he could afford to buy something on this floor, it was as though he had truly climbed a rung.

Even when there wasn't much money on his card, he would grit his teeth and swipe it anyway.

Clothes, belts, shoes, bags—the most important thing after buying them wasn't wearing them, but waiting for other people to see them.

Just a few steps from the elevator was a big-name brand he had often browsed in his previous life.

The storefront was huge, and so was the logo. The window displayed the season's featured styles, their patterns, lettering, and leather thrust right in your face. Lu Chuan slowed unconsciously, his body almost instinctively wanting to turn that way.

The reaction was all too familiar.

It was like muscle memory left over from years ago, requiring no thought at all.

Lu Chuan stood outside the window and took a couple of looks.

A sweatshirt hung in the most prominent spot inside, its chest covered in an oversized letter print.

He had bought something similar in his previous life, maxing out a credit card and spending ages trying it on in front of the mirror after taking it back to his dorm.

Back then, he had truly believed that as long as he wore those brands, people would think more highly of him.

Looking at it now, he suddenly found it funny.

Clothes were still just clothes.

He was the one who had piled too much else onto them back then.

Lu Chuan stood there for a few seconds. In the end, he did nothing but shake his head very slightly, turn around, and leave.

He no longer needed to wear his net worth on the outside.

The floor was vast, and the farther in he went, the more refined the storefronts became.

The outer ring was full of the busiest, most readily recognizable brands. Farther in, there were fewer people instead.

Lu Chuan slowly looked around as he went, in no hurry, until he finally stopped outside a menswear store.

The store wasn't large. Its storefront was clean and its logo understated. A few solid-colored knit tops and trousers hung in the window.

There were no exaggerated designs or instantly recognizable features. If he hadn't heard someone mention it later in his previous life, he might not have given it a second glance.

He used to look down on stores like this.

More than that, he had even complained about them to people over drinks.

He had said brands like this were the best at scamming people: a short-sleeved shirt so plain it couldn't be plainer, no logo, nothing distinctive, no different from a street-stall bargain at a distance, yet they dared charge tens of thousands for it. Anyone who bought one was a sucker, and anyone who wore one was a fool.

He had truly thought so back then.

Because by his logic, when you spent money, people had to be able to see it. If they couldn't, how was that any different from throwing it away?

Only later did he understand.

What brands like this sold was never social cachet.

They sold fabric, cut, and a feel that seemed unremarkable but had money spent on every inch. They weren't for other people to recognize, but for you to wear.

In his previous life, he had thought people who bought these things were fools, not because the things truly weren't worth it, but because he hadn't yet been in a position to understand that kind of "worth."

Lu Chuan took a look from the doorway and suddenly smiled.

He had another life to live.

Today, he wanted to try being that "fool" and see how it felt.

He stepped inside.

The store was quiet, the air-conditioning just right, and the lighting soft. The racks were spaced generously apart, without that packed-to-the-brim feeling of being rushed into buying.

Lu Chuan walked up to a row of lightweight knits and casually felt a light gray one.

The moment his fingertips touched it, he felt the difference.

Soft, smooth, light, with almost no roughness to it. It wasn't the substantial feel of ordinary cotton, but something finer. As it passed against his hand, there was almost no resistance.

Lu Chuan glanced at the tag.

The materials and craftsmanship were described simply, but the simpler the description, the more it showed that the money had gone into places you couldn't see.

He hung the garment back up and picked out two more basics. White, gray, and navy blue, all suitable for everyday wear. None looked particularly special on its own, but once you felt them, you knew they weren't in the same league as the mass-produced goods outside.

As he was looking, a male sales associate walked over.

He wore a black suit, his tie impeccably arranged and his hair neatly styled. He first looked at the clothes in Lu Chuan's hands, then glanced at his white T-shirt and jeans. His expression didn't change much, and his tone was reasonably polite.

"Sir, would you like me to tell you about anything?"

"No, I'll have a look around myself first."

"Of course."

The associate acknowledged him and stood a little to one side, without following too closely.

But the sense of distance was still there.

He wasn't openly looking down on Lu Chuan or trying to drive him out; he was simply being professionally detached. It was as though, in his eyes, someone Lu Chuan's age and dressed like that had most likely wandered in by accident and would leave after a look around, not a real customer.

Lu Chuan didn't mind.

He was all too familiar with that look.

He paid the associate no attention. How enthusiastic the associate was had little to do with how comfortable the clothes were.

He continued farther in and picked out two more outer layers, a lightweight trench coat and a light wool jacket. Both were made of good material and had clean cuts. He casually held them up against himself in front of a fitting mirror, then, without much hesitation, picked out a few pairs of pants to go with them.

The associate followed at a short distance, his expression remaining indifferent.

Only when the clothes in Lu Chuan's arms began to pile up did the other man's brows crease ever so slightly.

Lu Chuan himself didn't think it was excessive.

A few short-sleeved shirts, a few knits, two outer layers, several pairs of pants, plus two dress shirts would be enough to wear for a while. He didn't plan to buy things indiscriminately in the future anyway, so he might as well pick out everything he needed at once.

Just as he was about to take the clothes to the fitting room, the male associate finally stepped forward, blocking his way without making it obvious. His tone was still polite.

"Sir."

Lu Chuan stopped and turned his head to look at him.

The associate glanced at the stack of clothes in his arms and spoke quietly.

"Our brand specializes in top-quality fabrics and fully handcrafted custom stitching. The pieces in that collection you're holding aren't cheap."

It was phrased with great tact.

He hadn't directly asked whether Lu Chuan could afford them, nor had he tried to drive him out.

But the meaning was clear enough—you'd best know what you're getting into before trying on a pile of clothes and finding out in the end that they aren't suitable.

Lu Chuan's hand, still holding the clothes, paused in midair.

The store fell quiet for a moment.

He looked at the associate, his face expressionless, but he wasn't annoyed in the slightest.

He even felt a little like laughing.

Lu Chuan looked at him for two seconds before asking evenly, "So?"