Chapter 35 What Should She Use to Return...
Irene suddenly understood why so many young couples liked to give each other nicknames, some even named them like cute little animals. She had always thought that this behavior was meaningless and childish.
Especially when the PPT was shown at the group meeting, a green bubble suddenly popped up on the big screen, and the note on the top line was "Super cute baby pigs are coming!"
The usually gentle and shy senior sister blushed and hurriedly exited WeChat on the computer.
Irene was sitting at the round table at the time, and like several other fellow students, she let out a few good-natured laughs with a joking tone in her voice.
But in fact she was extremely embarrassed, with goose bumps on her arms. She was embarrassed that she had pried into other people's privacy, and even more embarrassed by the long list of nicknames that she was too embarrassed to say out loud.
Isn't the purpose of giving a name to be called? Why do we need to give a nickname in addition to the given name?
This is not entirely unnecessary.
Besides, how could I possibly call out such a nickname? It's embarrassing just thinking about it.
When Irene thought of her senior sister who could fight Party A for 300 rounds without losing, she started to call her 1.92-meter-tall Muay Thai boyfriend "super cute baby pig".
…
Okay, stop thinking about it. Irene opened the meeting minutes with a dead heart, and couldn’t look her senior sister in the eye for two whole days.
Unfortunately, this world is just a huge fragrance.
At that time, she certainly could not have imagined that she would actually want to address another person like this now - a boy whom she had only known for less than a month and whose grammar and spelling were not fluent.
There might not even be a future for either of them.
Maybe one day she would open her eyes and travel back to the 21st century, or maybe she would be killed by a stray bullet when the war breaks out. Anything could happen in wartime.
Irene knew that she was sinking soberly, her heart was pounding, and she clenched the boy's slightly cool fingers in her hot palms.
She looked at the boy quietly, at his wet blue eyes and thick, long golden-brown eyelashes. Leo also looked at her, and after a while he couldn't help but smile.
The smile is very sweet, as if it contains honey.
Only then did Irene understand why her senior sister called her 1.92-meter-tall boyfriend "Baby Pig".
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Now when she looked at Leo, she also felt that he was like a kitten cake with cream filling, and it was her favorite O'Clock flavor.
The kitten cake melts in your mouth and kills people as easily as chopping melons and vegetables.
Irene was amused by her own imagination. She held Leo's fingertips tightly and pulled him slowly down the street.
——Or her own kitten cookie.
*
The sun slanted down the narrow cobblestone streets of the French Quarter, leaving spots of light on the mottled colored walls. The air was filled with a faint scent of water, mixed with the smell of brandy and beer.
It is a taste unique to coastal cities.
Irene looked curiously at the shops with colorful signs on both sides of the road.
She had other things to do besides picking up Leo.
Although the house they rented had enough furniture and they didn't have to go to the second-hand market to rent furniture, there were no mattresses, so Irene had to buy two new quilts.
Fortunately, it is summer now, so I can just buy two thin blankets as quilts, and then directly buy a few pieces of fine cotton cloth and sew the sheets myself, which is both economical and convenient.
She also had to buy some colored threads, buttons, and pearls. She had so many things to make, so she had to start early.
Irene quickly made a shopping list in her mind and wanted to go straight to the fabric store, but even the most determined woman would find it difficult to control herself and rush to her destination on the street full of colorful things.
As one of the largest port cities in the southern United States, New Orleans has a very prosperous French Quarter and Canal Street, with many large stores, fabric stores, luxury stores, and even European imported goods.
This is completely different from Mobile, Irene couldn't help but exclaim.
There is even a department store - with red billboards hanging high up, it is very conspicuous.
Are there any advertisements at this time? Then can she promote herself through newspapers, advertisements and other media after she becomes a little famous?
Looking at the huge billboard, Irene, who was about to step into the fabric store, unconsciously turned into the department store.
She looked around the shop in front of her with surprise. The brass handles on the double oak doors sparkled. On the left was a row of tall glass cabinets. The clean cabinets displayed exquisite long skirts and embroidered handkerchiefs shipped from France.
An ordinary handkerchief costs ten cents a piece, and two cents less if you buy a dozen, but this embroidered handkerchief costs three dollars a piece.
The store owner seemed to be eager to enlarge the words "Imported from Paris, France" and carve them on the sign on the front of the handkerchief.
Irene wrinkled her nose. Most importantly, she didn't think the handmade embroidery was very delicate.
As soon as you walk into the store you can smell a mixture of aromas - lavender, soap and the steam rising from the iron passing through the fabric.
The lobby was spotless. On the teak counter near the door were thick account books and an exquisite brass scale, with pearl buttons scattered on the scale pan.
Irene looked around curiously and felt that it was a bit like the stalls she had visited in her previous life - there were also female employees in work clothes standing behind each counter.
Near the back hall is a small room dedicated to custom-made clothing. A translucent lace curtain hangs at the door, through which you can faintly hear whispers in front of the fitting mirror and the rubbing of fabrics when putting on and taking off clothes.
It turns out that you can open a custom clothing store here. I don’t know if the booth fee in a department store is expensive. If I can open a store here, the initial customer base will definitely be more stable than that of independent stores outside.
Irene is not afraid of hard work, she is only afraid of having no customers.
On the left hand side is a cabinet for bedding, with colorful sheets, quilt covers, pillowcases and linen blankets stacked on top of each other. Each piece is tied into a bundle with a thin rope and has a light blue price card inserted into it.
Bedding for wealthy families—with intricate embroidery or silver-threaded edges—was placed at the top of the shelves.
You can tell at first glance that it's expensive.
And high heels!
Erin struggled to tear her eyes away from a pair of light brown pointed-toe stilettos.
This was not her shopping goal this time.
They are still in the stage of escaping, which is not the time to spend recklessly. The price of these shoes is obviously not cheap, and they are definitely not comfortable to wear.
You can tell at a glance that these shoes are painful.
Irene convinced herself with difficulty.
She walked around for a long time and finally bought some buttons, some small decorations and a simple flat black hat in the department store. The hat was stuffed at the bottom of the shelf by the salesperson. If she hadn't had a good eye, she would have almost missed it.
The only things left to buy were the sheets and quilt covers they would use. Irene randomly found a fabric store and picked out two sets that were cheap and non-prickly.
Irene has never been demanding about her quality of life. In her previous life, in order to save three hundred yuan in rent every month, she was willing to stay in a hot and stuffy room without air conditioning and cut clothes all day.
Not to mention that her current conditions are worse than in her previous life, so she naturally has to be more frugal and save money wherever possible.
What's more, she has to support more than just herself now. Irene did the math and found that including rent and medical expenses, she had spent a total of nearly fifty or sixty dollars today.
It’s almost enough for a family of three to spend for one and a half months.
She sighed deeply and felt the burden on her shoulders become heavier.
In a first-tier commercial street like the French Quarter, the monthly rent for a department store stall is fifty dollars. The storefronts on the street are slightly cheaper, with a 45-square-meter house costing around forty dollars a month, and it can be even cheaper if rented for a long time.
The prices in Rochester should be cheaper than in New Orleans. The minimum annual rent is $500, but she also has to hire assistants, purchase goods, models, open salons and banquets, and every single expense adds up to money.
Irene is a born ambitious person. What she wants is more than just a shop or a shelter.
Her thoughts had never changed from the beginning to the end - from the moment she met Leo, when the long-dormant inspiration in her body suddenly burst out, Irene knew what she should do.
In this age when tailors are not valued, she wants to start an era that belongs to designers, and also a new era that belongs to her.
Life is just a grand game. No one is destined to be mediocre, and this journey can be seen as a second chance to start over given to her by the world.
Leo brought her endless inspiration, and her experiences in her previous life honed her superb skills.
She traveled to 19th century America with her knowledge, calluses on her fingertips and expectations for a brilliant life. Even if she got hurt, she was determined to create a world for herself.
Just rely on herself.
Irene has always been stubborn. Her experiences since childhood have accustomed her to never relying on others. Whether in the 21st century or now, the person she trusts most is herself and only herself.
She had to find a way to make money quickly, so she hugged the cloth in her arms tightly.
Surrounded by expectations for the future, Irene had a complete picture in her mind of the style of clothes she wanted to wear to stand out at the party five days later.
The black velvet long skirt is slim-fitting, clear and smooth, with an emerald green brooch pinned on the white lapel and a few milky white pearls dotted on the neckline.
The most important thing is to put on a short suit jacket with sharp lines and a narrow-brimmed flat hat, which is simply perfect.
She was almost about to see the dress appear in her hands - whether she could make a name for herself among the ladies of New Orleans.
Irene was so excited that her fingers were shaking. She hurried back to the rented house with Leo.
The big fat cat in the yard was still lying in its old position. When it saw the guests coming in, it opened its eyelids and gave them a lazily look, showing no fear of strangers at all.
They went up to the fourth floor and saw Hannah cleaning with her sleeves rolled up, a headscarf wrapped around her head, and humming an unknown tune.
The cabinets, dining tables and sofas were all wiped clean until they sparkled, and were so clean that they seemed as if they had just been pulled out of the factory.
Hannah always does her work like this, seriously and carefully.
Irene took the dirty water from Hannah's hand, but was bent over by Shen. If Leo hadn't been quick to take the basin, the wooden floor would have been damaged.
It was so embarrassing. Hannah could lift it, so how could she not be able to lift it? Irene silently condemned herself and changed the subject:
"Did Mrs. Sowy lend us this basin and bucket?"
"Yes, Mrs. Soy is a really good person," Hannah said happily, "She also lent us the rag."
"Then I'll give her something when I return her things later. I just happened to buy two extra handkerchiefs today. Try not to owe favors to others."
Irene has lived in China for more than ten years, and her understanding of the ways of the world is no different from that of a native Chinese.
"Leo, you help Hannah clean up the house while I go to the bedroom to draw a picture, okay?"
Irene pinched Leo's face with a smile, and the boy nodded, then helped her put the things she needed in the bedroom.
The room was very small. The only small table was at the end of the bed. Even a stool couldn't be squeezed in. Irene could only sit on the bed, but she didn't feel cramped at all.
Inspiration poured down from her fingertips, the room gradually darkened, and the dust stirred up by Irene's movements was suspended in the air, then fell back down as time passed.
The cold setting sun shone through the narrow wooden window onto Irene's manuscript. On the other side of the table were seventeen or eighteen pieces of waste paper.
"Swish..." Irene tore off another piece of waste paper, crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the ground.
She remained bent over the small table, holding the pen, and did not move at all except for tearing up the notebook and throwing paper balls.
The sky outside the window turned completely dark blue, and the only sound in the room was the not-so-bright electric light making a crackling sound.
"Huh——" Irene stretched out her body and lay on her back on the mattress without caring whether she was clean or not.
Finally she finished it. She was almost exhausted to death. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed drawing so much.
She cleared her mind and enjoyed the brief relaxation after exhaustion.
After a while, Irene opened her pocket watch and checked the time. It was eight fifteen!
She jumped out of bed and said, "Oh my god, it's already past eight o'clock."
She opened the door, "Have you two eaten yet?"
In the living room, Hannah and Leo were sitting on either side of the sofa. Hannah was sewing bed sheets, and Leo was daydreaming, staring at the wall.
As soon as Irene came out, he jumped up from the sofa as if he had come back to his soul and stuck close to Irene.
Hannah said, "We ate some bread when we returned Mrs. Soy's things to her."
"That's good. Where's the handkerchief? Did you give it to Mrs. Soy?" Irene breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately, the two of them were not stupid enough to wait for her. "Yes, Mrs. Soy was very happy."
Leo tugged at Irene's sleeve, and the boy's face was gloomy and he looked very unhappy.
There was another row of neatly written words on the small notebook.
'You can't work so long next time. You need to eat. If you don't eat well, your body will be damaged. Have you forgotten that you have a bad stomach?'
Although it was just written on paper, Irene could still sense the boy's condemnation between the lines.
Leo handed over another bag of bread and urged Irene with his eyes to take a few bites first.
Leo actually remembered that she had a bad stomach. Irene took the bread from him with mixed feelings, opened the oil paper, and took a bite with a smile.
"Thank you, I always forget to eat when I'm busy..."
As she spoke, her voice lowered. Looking at Leo's eyes full of worry and condemnation, Irene felt for once what it felt like to have the words stuck in her throat.
It seemed like she should say something else. Irene remembered that she was very good at thanking others. At this time, she should express her gratitude in an exaggerated tone, and then casually say that she would bring something for the other person next time as a token of gratitude.
But she couldn't tell Leo.
Irene was very clear about one thing - no one was born with an obligation to be nice to her, even her biological father didn't care about her, so she had to repay the favor.
Mrs. Soy lent her a basin, and she had to return a handkerchief; Mrs. Irene gave her an invitation, and she had to return a haute couture item.
What should she do in return for the care and concern Leo had given her?
Is love enough?
The bread is soft and not too sweet, but it tastes bitter in the mouth.
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