Chapter 6: Street Corner Farce
A street corner with glaring sunlight.
Li Yuan was talking to the girl next to him with his head down. That was He Qian, his first love.
At that moment, she was laughing with her head tilted back, the ends of her hair like black waves hitting Li Yuan's arm. Li Yuan, with the same hand that had once held Su Nian's, gently tucked the strands of hair behind her ears. He Qian took his arm and they turned to walk towards the coffee shop on the corner, their shadows tangled on the ground, their intimacy like a seamless painting.
Although Su Nian had made up her mind to break up with Li Yuan, she still felt uncomfortable when she saw this scene - just like biting into unchopped ginger in a bun.
Lin Feier wanted to cover her bestie's eyes at this moment, and said worriedly, "Niannian, are you okay? Let's break up with this scumbag."
Li Yuan obviously saw her as well, and the smile on his face froze instantly.
He said something to He Qian beside him, pointed to the coffee shop on the street, and walked quickly towards Su Nian.
He Qian pouted, looked at Su Nian with a provocative look, stamped her feet, and turned to walk into the coffee shop.
"Nian Nian." Li Yuan's voice was deliberately gentle, like a piece of paper swollen by water. "What a coincidence, you're here shopping too?"
Su Nian didn't say anything, but just took half a step back and kept some distance.
Lin Feier could no longer hold back and took a step forward, opening her arms to protect Su Nian, like an old hen protecting her chicks.
Fei'er crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "Coincidence? Looks like you've rekindled your old flame? You two-timing scumbag, what do you think of Nian Nian?"
A trace of embarrassment flashed across Li Yuan's face, and he scratched his hair: "Niannian, listen to my explanation, He Qian and I are just..."
"Just what? We just happened to be walking hand in hand?" Fei'er sneered, "Li Yuan, do you think we are blind or blind in heart? Who are you putting on this show for?"
She turned to look at Su Nian, her tone softening instantly, "Niannian, this shirt may look like a brand name, but the lining is actually rotten tofu dregs. We won't wear it anymore, it's too uncomfortable!"
Su Nian shrugged nonchalantly, "I've already broken up with him. You can do whatever you want, don't worry about me!"
After hearing what Su Nian said, Lin Feier had a clear idea in her mind. She rolled up her arms exaggeratedly, as if she was ready to have a big fight with this scumbag in front of her.
Li Yuan's face turned the color of liver, and he reached out to pull Su Nian's wrist: "Niannian, there's really nothing between me and her. I feel..."
"Stop!" Lin Fei'er slapped his hand away. "You should keep those wrinkles in your heart to yourself! Our Nian Nian is top-quality material, not something a rough guy like you can ruin. Take your 'just' and disappear immediately. It's best to lock it up forever. Don't be an eyesore here!"
Fei'er's rapid-fire words choked Li Yuan, making his face look extremely ugly.
He turned around and glanced at Su Nian with a complicated look in his eyes. "Niannian, I'll talk to you another day. I have something to tell you. And about your last clothing design draft, we can discuss it together then..."
Su Nian quickly waved her hands, like a salesman refusing a sale. "No, no! We shouldn't meet again. I'm afraid your 'scumbag vibe' will turn me into a secondhand smoker—I don't deserve it, I really don't!"
Uncontrollable laughter suddenly erupted from the surroundings, and several passing women covered their mouths and secretly watched the farce. Li Yuan's face turned pale and blue, and finally he turned back into the coffee shop in dejection, the glass door buzzing as he banged against it.
Su Nian looked at his back and suddenly felt the stone in her heart disappear. It turns out that letting go of someone is like ironing a piece of cloth. It requires just the right temperature, and more importantly, someone to help you smooth out those stubborn wrinkles.
Lin Fei'er took her arm and walked towards the dessert shop, her high heels tapping out a triumphant beat. "Forget it! It's not worth it for that kind of person. Let's go have dessert! Cheesecake can heal a broken heart, mango sago can heal a broken heart, and if all else fails, let's have tiramisu—and drink it all together with coffee and wine. I guarantee that when you wake up tomorrow, you won't even remember who he is!"
Su Nian was amused to tears. Sunlight streamed through the dessert shop window, casting a warm shadow on their clasped hands. She scooped up a spoonful of mango sago and suddenly realized her mother was right—good material always finds a tailor who appreciates it, just as a good girl will eventually find someone willing to iron out all her wrinkles.
In the last week before summer vacation, the sun made the walls of the teaching building hot, and the air was filled with the anxiety unique to adolescence.
For students majoring in fashion design, this week can be described as "purgatory mode" - the two mountains of theoretical foundation and practical skills make people breathless. The window seats in the library are always filled with students studying "Fashion Materials Science", and the lights in the sewing machine training room are often on until late at night.
When Su Nian came out of the drawing classroom with a stack of drawing papers, he ran into Zhang Qiuyan squatting at the corner of the corridor with her head in her hands. Her sketchbook was spread out on the ground with a crooked suit pattern drawn on it, like crumpled waste paper.
"Stuck again?" Su Nian squatted down and pointed at the crooked shoulder line on the drawing. "The angle here is wrong. Look, the distance from the side of the neck to the acromion should be like this."
She picked up a pencil and corrected the mistake with just a few strokes. The originally awkward lines instantly became smooth, as if her Ren and Du meridians were opened.
Zhang Qiuyan stared at the revised drawing, banged her head against the wall with a wail: "Niannian, have you secretly apprenticed to a sewing machine? I spent three days drawing a suit collar, but it took me three minutes to make it look decent." Her dark circles were as heavy as smoky makeup, and her hair was a mess on her head, like a ball of yarn just out of the washing machine.
Su Nian couldn't help laughing: "There's no shortcut. It's just that I've been watching my mom sew on the sewing machine since I was a kid, and my ears are almost covered in calluses."
She handed over her notes. "Look here. I've marked the cutting formulas for different collar types. Actually, the principles are the same. It's like making dumplings. No matter how you pinch the pleats, the size of the dough is crucial."
Zhang Qiuyan flipped through her notes, her eyes lighting up as if she'd discovered a treasure. "Oh my god, your notes are even clearer than the textbook! No wonder you always get first place in theory. It turns out you've cooked all the knowledge points into porridge, so thick you can drink it straight away."
She suddenly covered her face. "But what about practice? The zipper of the dress I made last time was crooked like an earthworm. The teacher said if it fails again, I have to retake it."
Su Nian patted her on the back and said, "Come to the training room tonight and I'll teach you how to install an invisible zipper."
In the next few days, Su Nian became Zhang Qiuyan's "exclusive mentor".
I helped her highlight key points in theory classes, weaving the abstract "color psychology" into a story about a tailor shop: "Like my mom always says, people with yellowish skin shouldn't wear khaki. It's like stir-frying pickles; the more you stir-fry, the less flavorful they become."
In the practical class, she was taught step by step how to stretch the fabric flat and how to make the seams as straight as if drawn with a ruler.
"Look," Su Nian said, holding the iron, steaming the wrinkled fabric until it was perfectly smooth. "Making clothes is like taking an exam, you can't rush. You have to iron the wrinkles one by one, and study the knowledge points one by one."
Zhang Qiuyan looked at the skirt gradually taking shape in her hands, her eyes a little warm. "Niannian, you are really my savior. If it weren't for you, I would probably hug my sewing machine and cry until summer vacation."
Su Nian smiled: "We are friends. Friends are like the warp and weft of a cloth. They have to pull each other to weave a good material. A single thread cannot make a line, and a single tree cannot make a forest. That's the truth."
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