"I don't believe that such a large country like ours can't find a good domestic fabric that can live up to the name 'Guanghua'! Let's go to the warehouse! Let's screen all the domestic wool samples we collected before! I refuse to believe that we can't overcome this predicament!"
Looking at her figure standing in front of the sample rack, Zhang Guoqiang felt as if a light was shining on her. Her composure and courage strangely calmed the remaining anxiety in his heart.
"good!"
He nodded emphatically, his fighting spirit rekindled.
"There are still many samples sent by various wool mills in the warehouse. I'll have people bring them all out right now! We'll pick them out one by one, examine them inch by inch! I refuse to believe we can't dig out a gold nugget!"
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For several days in a row, Zhou Qiqi, Zhang Guoqiang, and Master Ma plunged into the warehouse piles of materials, where they were surrounded by the distinctive odor of wool, and their noses were almost blocked.
Upon hearing about Qiu Fengxian's despicable methods, Master Ma was so angry that he slapped his thigh.
The three of them were initially determined to carve out a path for themselves from domestically produced materials.
Unexpectedly, reality turned out to be like buckets of cold water, chilling the three of them to the bone.
That batch of imported Australian wool was indeed of good quality.
The fibers are as fine as silk, and feel smooth and soft to the touch. They have the softness and skin-friendly feel of cashmere, while also providing a neat and structured silhouette, and the drape is superb.
The resulting colors are bright and vibrant; true red is true red, and dark green is dark green, all evenly blended together like a painting.
That is the result of the dual advantages of technology and materials, creating a luxurious texture that forms the foundation of the "Guanghua" series' high-end feel.
And what about the domestically produced materials we have now?
The fibers are either coarse and stiff, or soft and limp. Some are firm and upright, but heavy and oppressive. Dyeing is even more difficult, with colors that are either dull and uneven or have poor saturation, as if covered with a layer of dust.
The machine and the process are far inferior, so the finished product is bound to be unsatisfactory.
After several days of fussing, the three of them were nearly blinded by the sight of the materials, and their fingertips, which had been touching the materials, felt numb. Yet, they still couldn't find a single piece that barely met their requirements.
The bright incandescent light hanging above the warehouse shone glaringly, illuminating the three men's tired faces.
Zhou Qiqi practically lived here. She arrived just after seven in the morning and didn't leave until eight or nine at night, after the factory lights were turned off.
In just a few days, it was visibly obvious that the little bit of flesh that had been painstakingly gained on her face had disappeared again, and a faint dark circle had appeared under her eyes. Only her eyes remained astonishingly bright, stubbornly scanning the rolls of fabric.
On the third night, Shen Huaichuan couldn't stand it any longer and drove his Jeep to the factory gate.
Seeing his wife's bloodshot eyes, he felt a pang of heartache and wanted her to go home and get some rest tonight.
But Zhou Qiqi was extremely nervous.
With the delivery deadline fast approaching, the calls urging delivery are like death knells, ringing every single day.
The immense pressure was like an invisible boulder, pressing heavily on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe. How could she possibly rest in peace?
"no,"
Her voice was hoarse with fatigue, but unusually resolute, "Almost there... Let me check again."
She avoided Shen Huaichuan's outstretched hand and turned her gaze to a stack of new sample fabrics piled in the corner.
Looking at Zhou Qiqi's bloodshot eyes and her unsteady stance, Zhang Guoqiang felt a pang of heartache.
He quickly stepped forward and stuffed the stack of new sample fabrics into Shen Huaichuan's hands.
"Qiqi, you and Commander Shen should go back. This is the last batch. I've had people search every factory they can find in the neighboring provinces... They're all here. Take them home and look at them. Staying at home will at least ease your mind. If you still can't find them after you've looked at all these..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but everyone understood what he meant: they were at their wits' end and had no choice but to give up "Guanghua." The loss was terrifying to even think about.
Looking at Shen Huaichuan's unwavering concern, and glancing at the last hope, Zhou Qiqi finally nodded and said in a hoarse voice, "Okay, I'll take it back to see."
When Shen Huaichuan came, she made a special detour to the military district restaurant to pack up her favorite pickled fish.
Back home, a steaming hot meal was served, but Zhou Qiqi had little appetite. Her heart was heavy with worry about the substandard ingredients.
But not wanting to disappoint him, I still managed to eat a few bites.
She put down her chopsticks, picked up the heavy bag of samples, and wanted to go back to her room to continue her work.
Just as she was about to turn around, her clothes were gently tugged at.
Looking down, Zhouzhou was tilting her little face up, blinking her big eyes, and silently making a "drawing" gesture with her little hands. Her eyes were full of expectation, clearly indicating that she needed Zhou Qiqi's help.
Seeing this, Shen Huaichuan told Zhou Qiqi to go about her business and went to help Zhouzhou himself.
Zhou Qiqi was burning with anxiety, not a single second could be wasted, but when she met Zhouzhou's pure and longing eyes, she simply couldn't harden her heart.
She pushed Shen Huaichuan aside and chose to help Zhouzhou herself.
Last week when Zhouzhou went to Master Wu's class, Master Wu assigned her ink painting homework.
Zhouzhou seems to have encountered a problem; she has ruined several drawings and is not satisfied with any of them.
Zhou Qiqi's painting skills are only average. She's perfectly capable of drawing design drafts, but she doesn't know much about other types of painting, such as ink painting, or rather, she basically doesn't understand them.
But her basic aesthetic sense is still good.
So I patiently sat down and carefully looked at the few paintings that Zhouzhou had ruined, and then quietly asked a few questions about the details and his understanding of the assignment.
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