When they left the hanfu shop, Shen Qiao had already changed back into his own clothes.
He sat in the front passenger seat of Chopped Chili Fish Head's car, looking out the window as he quietly asked, "Looks like you're pretty satisfied with this hanfu."
"I am."
If the splendor of the women's hanfu was displayed openly for everyone to see, then the charm of the men's piece was hidden beneath the night curtain, only to shine like a sky full of stars when the heavens fell silent.
It was as though it had been designed after the women's hanfu, like someone standing beside a dazzling person—seemingly ordinary, yet never bland.
This designer truly had skill. Since the red women's hanfu was too eye-catching, they had avoided competing with its brilliance and taken an approach of complementary yin and yang, custom-making an entirely different outfit that still paired perfectly with it.
Like the sun and the moon.
The two arrived at the Performing Arts Center and placed this Club's Treasure in the Hanfu Club's storage room.
Luo Ye took a photo, sent it to the Hanfu Club's group chat, then tagged everyone.
President: The full price was 33,200 yuan. Let everyone bear witness: the Hanfu Club owes me 8,200 yuan. Round it up to 10,000—give me whatever funding is left from now on.
That one message instantly blew up the Hanfu Club's group chat.
Song Ruo: Thirty thousand? So expensive.
An Zi: You bastard of a president, you went over budget.
Tao Tiantian: It's fine. When new members come next year, their club dues can make it up to the president.
Long Jin: Oh my god, thirty thousand? That's almost as much as the outfit my grandpa collected.
Everyone else: ...All right, we get it. Your grandpa has an outfit