The commotion from the stall next door was so great that it alarmed the people at the neighboring stalls and drew passersby to stop and watch the spectacle.
Jiang Xia heard it too, but she was not very interested in other people's stories, so she did not linger.
There was nothing suitable at this stall, so she led the two designers on toward the next one.
Time was extremely precious. There was no need to waste it on irrelevant people. The future was full of hope, and they had to choose the right path and walk forward with determination.
The purchasing supervisor soon caught up as well, and the four of them continued buying fabric samples, auxiliary materials, and sample garments.
No, they were not buying fabric samples, nor auxiliary materials, nor sample garments.
They were buying a brick and a tile for socialist construction. They were buying hope, dreams, and the future!
In the evening, Zhou Chenglei came to the fabric market to find Jiang Xia.
It was just about closing time, so he did not go inside to look for Jiang Xia. She would probably be coming out soon, and he did not want to miss her. When he saw their jeep, he leaned against it, took out a book, and waited.
The setting sun sank westward, its golden light spilling over him. The shadows of the vehicle and the man fell across the road carpeted with banyan leaves.
All around, people of the clothing trade, souls of the clothing trade, could not help turning their eyes toward him—including Wen Wan, who came stumbling out with red-rimmed eyes.
Zhou Chenglei remained utterly unmoved. Time seemed to have stopped for him; only he quietly turned the pages of his book.
He knew people were looking at him. He simply