In May, the sky stayed bright late, but it was already close to six o’clock.
Su Jinle felt a wave of disappointment. She glanced at the blue dress, folded it carefully, slipped it back into the kraft paper bag, and prepared to head home.
“So after all that, you still didn’t sell it?”
The lofty voice made Su Jinle think of one phrase: enemies are bound to cross paths.
She had barely interacted with Yang Muqing before, yet in just two days they had run into each other three times.
Keeping her head down, Su Jinle packed the dress and chose to ignore her. Arguing was not her strong suit.
Yang Muqing, however, stepped directly in front of her.
“Name your price. Twenty not enough? Thirty? Su Jinle, your family’s poor as dirt—there’s no need to compete with me over a man. Honestly, Gu Jingxiu is only someone you would like. He’s not my type.”
Maybe he wasn’t her type—but she enjoyed being pursued. Gu Jingxiu was considered a promising young talent at the cannery factory, and quite a few girls secretly admired him. Including Su Jinle.
There was something intoxicating about having a man others longed for chase after her.
Su Jinle bit her lip slightly. The woman who had ordered the dress hadn’t shown up yet; chances were the dress wouldn’t sell. She only had a five-yuan deposit on hand, and she still needed to buy fabric for two other girls’ orders.
Fabric would cost eight yuan. Was she supposed to go home and ask her mother for the three yuan she’d handed over yesterday?
Seeing her silence, Yang Muqing let out a mocking laugh.
“If you want dignity, first ask yourself if you deserve it. You’re just a little stutterer who can’t even speak properly. If I’m willing to buy your dress, you should go home and burn incense in gratitude.”
She raised her brows, studying Su Jinle more carefully. Gu Jingxiu had once said he wanted to marry her. Now that she looked closely, the stuttering girl did have lovely skin and a soft, pure appearance. If she didn’t speak, she could even seem alluring.
But Yang Muqing didn’t take her seriously. Even if Gu Jingxiu married Su Jinle, all she had to do was crook a finger and he would still put her first. What could a poor, powerless stutterer possibly compete with her for?
Thirty yuan fluttered to the ground—just like yesterday. But today, the humiliation was deliberate.
“Pick it up,” Yang Muqing said lightly. “Your family’s poor, after all.”
Her family had money. She liked the feeling of pressing people down with it—especially someone like Su Jinle, who looked so meek.
Su Jinle remained silent.
Thirty yuan was half a month of her father’s wages. It was over ten days of her brother’s medical expenses. She knew that the longer her brother’s leg went untreated, the slimmer the chance of recovery. She desperately needed money.
But—
“No.”
She lifted her head again. Her voice was slow and steady; the stutter was almost gone.
“The dress was ordered by someone else. It’s not yours. Take your money back.”
Yang Muqing laughed in disbelief. “Ordered? Who would want your trash dress?”
Su Jinle nudged the money on the ground back toward her with her foot.
“Your money. Pick it up yourself.”
Yang Muqing glared. “Fine. You’ve got backbone? Let’s see what it’s worth! Fifty? A hundred? Name a number. I’m buying this dress today!”
Instead of anger, something else flickered in Su Jinle’s eyes—hope.
“One thousand,” she said quietly. “Will you?”
A thousand yuan could pay for her brother’s treatment. Even if she broke her promise to the original customer, she could sew two or three dresses in compensation.
For a brief second, she genuinely wished Yang Muqing would humiliate her with money. Her eyes even sparkled a little, naïve and earnest.
“One thousand yuan. I’ll sell it to you.”
Yang Muqing nearly exploded. “Do I look like an idiot? One thousand for a dress? Is it made of gold?”
Su Jinle lowered her eyes in disappointment.
“You said… you had to buy it.”
So she didn’t keep her word. Su Jinle had really thought Yang Muqing was rich and foolish.
Yang Muqing clenched her teeth. What kind of look was that? Disappointed? How dare she!
“You’ll regret this. If I don’t buy it, you’ll just have to take it home!” She pointed a finger at her. “With one word from me, Gu Jingxiu won’t marry you. Even if you beg me then and give me the dress for free, it’ll be useless!”
Su Jinle glanced at the sky and prepared to leave.
Yang Muqing grabbed her arm. “Leave the dress before you go.”
Her fair skin was marked by fingernail imprints. Just as Su Jinle was about to struggle free, someone shoved Yang Muqing aside.
“What’s wrong with you? I ordered this dress the day before yesterday! Why are you trying to force a sale?”
The middle-aged woman pulled Su Jinle behind her, then turned apologetically.
“Sorry, girl. Something came up at home—I’m late. Is the dress finished? I’ll pay now.”
Yang Muqing hadn’t expected the dress to truly be pre-ordered. She scoffed. “Whatever she’s charging you, I’ll add ten yuan. Sell it to me.”
Su Jinle lowered her eyes. She didn’t want her dress worn by Yang Muqing—but once someone paid, it belonged to them. She had no right to interfere.
The woman gave a cold laugh. “Go ask around who I am before you try throwing money at people.”
Then she softened, turning back. “How much, girl? I’ll pay now.”
“Twenty yuan,” Su Jinle replied softly.
The woman paid promptly.
But before she could leave, Su Jinle gently stopped her and slipped a blue hair ribbon and a small delicate fabric pouch into her hand.
“These… for you,” she said, her stutter returning with emotion. “No charge. Thank you.”
Thank you for coming. Thank you for keeping your promise.
The woman paused, looking at the items. The ribbon was lovely, the pouch carefully made from leftover scraps. Sold separately, they could easily fetch two yuan. She could also tell someone had tried to buy this dress earlier.
But Su Jinle hadn’t sold it. She had waited.
The one who kept her promise wasn’t the customer—it was this girl.
“Your business will only grow,” the woman said warmly. Then she glanced at Yang Muqing. “This dress wouldn’t suit you anyway. Beautiful clothes need beautiful people.”
Yang Muqing was undeniably pretty—that was why Gu Jingxiu couldn’t forget her. No one had ever dismissed her like that before.
And it was all because of this stutterer.
After the woman rode away on her bicycle, Yang Muqing sneered. “You’ve got backbone, Su Jinle. You’ll regret it.”
That day, she made twenty-five yuan in total. After buying fabric, she still had seventeen left.
She handed it all to Lin Yun.
“For brother. Medical treatment.”
That evening, the Su family added an extra dish to dinner. Su Weihua even had a small drink.
“I never thought Lele would be this capable.”
He was the sole breadwinner. Lin Yun had only started working at a small restaurant after their son’s accident. A family of four, plus medical bills—the weight of it all had pressed on him for years.
Su Jinle’s two successful sales felt like a crack in the heavy clouds hanging over them.
For the first time in a long while, he could breathe.
But soon, Su Jinle learned what Yang Muqing had meant.
The next day, Su Weihua left for work humming.
That evening, when he returned, his face was grim.
After a long silence, he said to Lin Yun, “They docked my performance pay this month. My salary’s only forty-five yuan.”