The Qipao

After finishing up in the kitchen, the Fatty picked up his tools again and clanked away at the remaining repairs in the studio, which was already mostly tidied up.

He took a screwdriver he'd pulled from who knew where and tightened the loose screws on the coat rack one by one. Then he gently tapped the joints with a hammer to make them fit more snugly.

Finally, he wrapped a layer of black electrical tape around them.

Just as the Fatty was shaking the rack to see if it still wobbled, he suddenly noticed a slightly bluish garment hanging in the very middle.

It was nearly impossible to spot unless you looked closely.

He pushed aside the nearby clothes and was surprised to find a blue qipao.

It had a mandarin collar and short sleeves, was made of silk, and was finely crafted.

There were also several peony-like embroideries on it. It was clearly expensive, and when he leaned closer, he could smell a faint, elegant fragrance.

There was no doubt that it was a woman's garment.

The Fatty instantly perked up.

Just then, footsteps thudded down the stairs. A few seconds later, Jiang Cheng came down carrying a huge tub of clothes.

He was met by the Fatty, whose expression was strange.

"What are you doing?" Jiang Cheng asked. The clothes in the tub he was carrying were almost spilling over, so he could only tilt his head to look at the Fatty.

"Doctor!" the Fatty exclaimed. "I found a qipao on your clothes rack!"

"Hm?" Jiang Cheng furrowed his brows.

"It's blue, and the slit goes this high up the thigh!" He gestured with both hands as if he'd discovered a whole new world.

There was no malice in it. Everything about Jiang Cheng was fresh and mysterious to the Fatty, and it was like the thrill of accidentally catching a glimpse of someone else's secret.

Jiang Cheng's expression grew serious, making the Fatty even more satisfied. He was used to Jiang Cheng leaving him speechless, so he'd finally managed to get one over on him.

He suddenly couldn't wait to hear Jiang Cheng explain himself.

"Is that the only one?" Jiang Cheng set down the tub of clothes and casually rummaged through it. "That can't be right. There should also be a pink undergarment and a white fringed shawl." He looked up at the Fatty. "Look again."

The Fatty: "???"

Then Jiang Cheng turned the tub of clothes upside down. The Fatty froze for a moment, then his pupils suddenly widened.

If Pi Ruan had shattered his worldview, then this scene ground the worldview he'd barely managed to piece back together into powder.

The clothes spilled out when Jiang Cheng overturned the tub. The Fatty glanced over them and saw that most were women's clothes, all different kinds. An ordinary qipao like this didn't even stand out.

Only then did the Fatty finally realize what kind of person he was dealing with.

He'd underestimated Jiang Cheng. He never imagined that Jiang Cheng could not only bring about the pure love between someone like Pi Ruan and a rich woman, but also be so openhearted as to offer himself to the tiger.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Jiang Cheng asked.

The Fatty took a deep breath, silently returned the clothes on the rack to their original places, and covered the qipao. Only then did he turn to Jiang Cheng. "Doctor, I think either I've got something wrong with my eyes, or the world has gone mad."

Jiang Cheng said with a serious expression, "I think you may have misunderstood. These clothes don't belong to the people you're imagining. I'm not Pi Ruan. I have my principles."

The Fatty covered his face and thought, Doctor, please just shut up already.

But he couldn't say that out loud. The Fatty composed himself and asked, "Then who do these clothes belong to?"

He paused as if he'd realized something, and his expression improved at once. "They belong to your girlfriend, right, Doctor?" After saying it, the Fatty suddenly felt a tiny bit awkward.

That was the most normal and reasonable explanation, after all. What on earth had he been thinking about all this time?

In all fairness, Jiang Cheng looked quite good. As long as he didn't open his mouth, he looked like a normal person.

And he had a respectable, decent job.

"No," Jiang Cheng said, shaking his head. "They belong to my landlady. She's also my boss, and she left all these clothes here."

The Fatty shuddered. The way he looked at Jiang Cheng changed drastically, and he suddenly felt as if the whole world had gone wrong.

The Fatty walked over to the door by himself, opened it, and silently took out a cigarette and lit it. He held it between his lips, his gaze empty and bewildered.

Jiang Cheng turned around and saw half of the Fatty's profile, melancholy and lost, that face full of stories.

"Fatty," Jiang Cheng said quite naturally, "I can smell the ribs. See if they're ready."

At that, the Fatty tossed away his cigarette butt and headed into the kitchen. He paused for a few seconds as he passed Jiang Cheng, his lips moving as if he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

Before long, the rich aroma of meat filled the air. The Fatty carried over the steaming pot with a piece of cloth. Jiang Cheng had already put a cloth on the table.

The pot landed squarely on the cloth. Then the Fatty brought out a plate of hot-and-sour potato chunks and two large bowls of rice.