He took off my old clothes with tenderness
On the third day of living in the apartment, the feeling of unreality still lingered. Waking up in the morning, gazing at the sleek ceiling, it always took me a few seconds to register my location. It was eerily quiet here. No noise from next door, no traffic around the corner. Only the low hum of the central air conditioning system, like the breathing of a sleeping beast.
The few old clothes I brought with me, hanging in the walk-in closet that could hold my entire adolescent dreams, looked so thin, cramped, and even a bit of an eyesore. They were relics of my past life and were out of place in this space.
Gu Yanshen mentioned this matter during breakfast.
He sat across from me, wearing a simple white shirt, his sleeves rolled up, revealing a sleek, flowing forearm. The morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft, golden edge on his figure. He slowly finished his fried egg, wiping his mouth with a napkin before his eyes rested on me, the scrutiny of a work of art.
"It's a nice day today," he said gently, "I'll take you to buy some clothes."
It wasn't a question, it was a notification. A gentle, unquestionable arrangement.
I subconsciously looked down at the slightly softened cotton dress I was wearing. It was my most comfortable dress. "I... have clothes, Brother Yan Shen." My voice was soft, with a hint of persistence, trying to protect something.
He smiled, the kind of tolerant smile that suggested you were childish. "Xiaoyu, a girl's wardrobe is always missing a piece of clothing." He stood up and walked behind me, gently placing his hands on my shoulders, his warmth filtering through the thin fabric. His gaze fell on the gleaming glass of the cupboard in front of him, reflecting both of us.
"Besides," his voice lowered, with a hint of regret, "these clothes don't suit your current environment, nor do they suit... the way you should be."
——Not worthy.
Those three words, light and airy, were like a fine needle, precisely piercing the pitiful decency I'd tried to maintain. I looked at myself in the mirror, wearing an old dress. Next to his dignified figure, I truly felt like Cinderella who'd strayed into a palace. Before midnight, the magic had already been revealed.
A mixture of shame and embarrassment surged up, burning my ears. I tried to find the Mo Xiaoyu of the past in the reflection of the glass—the girl who would be so excited about a floral dress she bought at the night market—but I found her face a little blurry.
I didn't refuse again.
He took me not to shopping malls, but to boutiques hidden on quiet streets that required appointments to enter. There was no loud music or promotional labels in the stores, only soft lighting, a subtle fragrance in the air, and staff with polite smiles and precise eyes.
Throughout the whole process, I was like a human clothes hanger, passively accepting everything.
Gu Yanshen was clearly a regular here. He didn't need to say much; a simple glance from the waiter was enough for the clerk to understand and bring him the latest season's styles. He sat on a comfortable sofa, a cup of hand-poured coffee at his side, like a director in control of the entire situation.
"Try this one." He pointed to an off-white silk shirt with simple lines and no unnecessary decorations.
"This skirt goes with the jacket I just wore."
"The colors are too bright and not calm enough."
"The style is too childish and not suitable for formal occasions."
He said little, but every word was crucial. He rejected a lace dress that I instinctively reached out to touch, saying it was "not solemn enough." He also rejected a bright orange-pink cashmere sweater that I stole a glance at, saying it was "too lively."
Time and again, I walked into the fitting room and put on the clothes he picked out. Every time I walked out and stood in front of the huge fitting mirror, I could see the undisguised satisfaction in his eyes.
The person in the mirror, strange yet familiar. Finely crafted clothing enveloped me, highlighting curves I'd never quite considered. The colors were mostly understated neutrals—off-white, light gray, camel, navy. The tailoring was minimalist, devoid of unnecessary patterns or embellishments, the only highlight being the fine fabric and impeccable fit.
It is beautiful, without a doubt. It is a kind of high-class, alienated, and carefully disciplined beauty.
"Very good." He looked at me wearing a black A-line skirt in the style of Hepburn, and finally revealed a happy smile, "This is how you should look, Xiaoyu."
He stood up, walked over to me, and personally adjusted my nonexistent collar. His movements were gentle, his fingertips occasionally brushing the skin on the side of my neck, bringing a subtle shiver. We stood side by side in front of the mirror, and he looked at our reflections in the mirror as if admiring a perfect work of art.
"Look, how well it matches," he whispered, with a sense of creative satisfaction in his tone.
And I, looking in the mirror at the girl labeled "Gu Yanshen" from head to toe, felt empty inside. I felt like I was encased in a gorgeous, standard shell, a shell so perfect, so perfect... that I couldn't find myself anymore.
Those old clothes that I cherished and bore my personal stamp were, in his eyes, nothing more than "outdated" items that needed to be cleared out. He once gently asked me, "Do we really need to keep those old clothes? They just take up space."
What did I say? I sort of... nodded.
Back at the apartment, in my brand new closet, I could no longer find any trace of my past. All my old clothes had been cleared out, replaced by the fruits of today's "hunt," neatly hung like soldiers in formation, silently announcing the arrival of a new era.
I stood alone in the center of this vast closet, surrounded by unfamiliar luxury. My fingers brushed against a silk shirt, feeling cool and smooth, yet it didn't inspire the slightest joy of ownership.
I suddenly remembered that rejected lace dress. It was a treasure I found with Xiaoyou at the night market during my college years, using my first tutoring salary. We high-fived each other for getting ten yuan off it.
Where is that skirt now? Was it thrown away as trash? Along with Mo Xiaoyu, the girl who would haggle over a few dozen yuan at the night market and be delighted for hours over an ordinary skirt, it was discarded.
In the evening, Gu Yanshen had an appointment and didn't come back for dinner. I sat alone at the long dining table, looking at the exquisite dishes, but I didn't have much appetite.
The phone vibrated. It was a message from Xiaoyou.
"Xiaoyu, have you settled in? How is your new environment? When can you come out and get together? We all miss you."
I looked at the message, my finger hovering above the screen for a long time, unable to let go.
How can I tell her that I live in a house that's like a museum?
How should I tell her that all the clothes of mine that she once envied and praised have been replaced?
How do I tell her that I seem to have... lost myself?
In the end, I just replied:
"I'm settled in, very good. I'll find you when I'm done with this busy period."
Putting my phone down, I walked to the French window and looked out at the endless stream of car lights below. The world was still bustling and noisy, but I was trapped in this golden cage of silence.
He gave me an impeccable shell, but took away the most vivid background that made me who I am.
He is using his vision to tailor a brand new shell for me that satisfies him.
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