Zhouzhou answered silently with mouth movements; the two communicated perfectly.
When the little girl utters sentences longer than four or five words, only Zhou Qiqi can understand them at a glance; this is a tacit understanding unique to the two of them.
That's why Zhou Qiqi decided to come and help herself instead of having Shen Huaichuan come.
After exchanging words for a while, Zhouzhou nodded thoughtfully.
Zhou Qiqi then patted her head and quickly got up and went into the room.
Under the light, she eagerly spread out more than a dozen samples on the table, her fingers rubbing over every inch of fabric to feel the fibers, resilience, and crispness.
She took out a small piece of fabric and quickly sewed out a palm-sized sample on the sewing machine, repeatedly examining the silhouette effect after sewing.
One yuan, two yuan, three yuan, four yuan, five yuan... ten yuan...
Shaking his head, still shaking his head.
Hope is like sand in an hourglass, slowly slipping away.
These materials are always a little off, either here or there, they're never quite right.
Zhou Qiqi was unwilling to lower her standards for the products, and she was dissatisfied with no matter how she selected them.
Finally, Zhou Qiqi's gaze fell on the few pieces of material that were the darkest and most inconspicuous in color.
This was delivered by that small factory in Province B that's supposedly on the verge of bankruptcy. It's dusty, the color is off, and the saturation is pitifully low. From a distance, it looks no different from a rag.
She had already given up hope, but a stubborn streak of "giving domestic products a chance" still surfaced in her heart.
"Give it a try."
Zhou Qiqi had almost given up hope, but out of her last bit of sense of responsibility, she still picked up a red piece and placed it under the sewing machine.
"Da da da..."
As the needle moved, it pierced the fabric, making a rhythmic tapping sound.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com