Chapter Five: The Expert in Attire and Headgear

  Chen Xiaoqi slapped his forehead in frustration and helplessness, lamenting in his heart: "Heavens! What kind of era is this?! The whole street is full of people wearing blue cloth from head to toe, black cloth! Monotonous colors, monotonous decorations, everything is dull and lacking in personality, charm, music... even the single-speaker loudspeaker can only play for three minutes!"

  "No TV shows, no radio, movies are black and white silent films! Books are all traditional vertical scripts! The Master of the Generation, Ping Jiang's Not-So-Shabby's Xian Xia hadn't even started writing yet! An era without entertainment is going to kill me!"

  Newspapers can't be read, records can't be listened to, the scenery on the street is meaningless, and even staying still has nothing to do! Chen Xiaoqi was about to go crazy when a thought suddenly flashed through his mind: Ah, right! How come that Chen Zhanggui hasn't arrived yet? He's the one who picked him up from the seaside, and he should repay him for his kindness. Oh, right, he's the boss of Dahua Dye Factory, and dye factories are where they dye fabrics, aren't they? So this is quite a coincidence! What's the foundation of the textile industry? Dyes! And dyes are important basic chemical materials! This is exactly what he's good at! So, what can be done now? Under current chemical conditions, what can be done? Indigo? Don't joke. Floral fabrics are out of the question, so what else can be quickly produced that doesn't exist yet?

  Xiao Qi's brain started spinning like a windmill. Don't look at his mediocre academic performance, his memory is top-notch, and he still remembers many things from the chemical engineering dictionary he memorized back in the day! There must be something useful that can be found here!

  Just as Chen Xiaoqi was deep in thought, trying to dig up something from the depths of his memory, a young servant who had been sent out to buy clothes suddenly rushed into the main hall downstairs, panting heavily and startling everyone.

  The accountant was shocked at first, then he saw that the kid was holding a bundle of cloth with silver dollars in his hands, sweating profusely and looking flustered as if bandits were chasing him. This didn't look right! He quickly turned around from behind the counter to take a look outside, but there was no one there! He turned back to ask the young man: "What's going on? Why did you come back empty-handed? Where are your clothes?"

  The young man's voice trembled as he said, "Uncle... uncle! It's not good, that foreigner wants to come and take Mr. Lu's measurements himself! He says he wants to get acquainted with Mr. Lu's friends! What can we do?"

  "What? What's going on? Don't be in a rush, speak clearly!" Gao Zhangfang was a bit bewildered by what he heard. What was all this nonsense about? Buying clothes was just buying clothes, so why had they gone and invited foreigners too?

  He adjusted his collar, licked the saliva off his lips, and swallowed hard before stuttering out a rough account of what had happened. In reality, it wasn't a big deal; the clothing store he went to was owned by a Frenchman named Denis Craig. Of course, arrogant French people generally wouldn't bother serving customers themselves - on one hand, Westerners, including Japanese people, looked down on Chinese people at that time, and on the other hand, in Qingdao, people who wore suits were few and far between, so there weren't many customers to begin with. Most of the clientele was still made up of Chinese people wearing traditional changshan and magua robes. As a result, it was rare for someone to be worthy of his personal service - usually he would just send one of his underlings to fetch clothes, without needing to serve them himself. For the most part, it was the two salesclerks at the front desk who were hired for their basic knowledge of French and were in charge of handling things. Of course, these guys who earned a foreign salary thought they were superior to everyone else and would bully and intimidate people of the same ethnicity as them, typical running dogs of imperialism.

  If he didn't want to come, it was because he was afraid of seeing this kind of face and feeling uncomfortable psychologically. Moreover, deep down, he also felt a bit inferior - after all, others were working for foreigners, while they were working for Chinese people, which wasn't the same level! When he went there, naturally, the person at the counter didn't have a good expression, and besides, it was a new face, and the foreign currency he brought wasn't that much, so they weren't very enthusiastic about serving him. However, when they heard that he was a friend of Mr. Lu, the board chairman of Dahua Dyeing Factory, who had recently been making headlines, their tone suddenly became much more pleasant. In this world, what works best is speaking with foreigners, followed by Japanese people, then government and military personnel, and finally businesspeople, especially those who are relatively successful. Who would dare to neglect them, especially since Dahua Dyeing Factory had recently gained great success and was hailed as "patriotic entrepreneurs" in the newspapers?

  It just so happened that at this time, Dennis Craig was behind him, sipping tea and reading the newspaper with his legs crossed. A few familiar words suddenly entered his ears, and after listening carefully, he couldn't sit still. His business circle had always been small, with a limited number of clients, all of whom were big shots in suits, each one a source of wealth!

  So he immediately came to the front from behind the scenes, through his Chinese subordinates, saying that he wanted to come and visit this "Mr. Lu's friend" in person, and let the young man report first, suddenly visiting seemed a bit impolite.

  Gao Zhai Fang was taken aback when he heard this, but in fact, he understood one thing very clearly: this young Mr. Chen, who looked very dignified, had probably never met Mr. Lu before and didn't know each other at all. He was using Mr. Lu's name to get things done, if the two of them were to meet and not recognize each other, it would be embarrassing! No, he had to make preparations in advance!

  He hastily said to the young servant, "Alright, I know everything. Now, quickly go and prepare a good pot of tea and then brew a pot of coffee! Once you're ready, send them up to Mr. Chen's room upstairs. I have to hurry and report!"

  After speaking, he took the large ocean and small package from the young man's hand and stuffed them into the cabinet. Then, he lifted up the front and went upstairs with a "thud thud thud" sound.

  His knock on the door startled Chen Xiaoqi, who was deep in thought. After getting a response, he walked in. Chen Xiaoqi was still sitting at his desk, holding a pencil and drawing some dizzying symbols and patterns on white paper. The hotel's only record player, one of its treasures, had been turned on, and the sound that had been faintly audible from downstairs earlier was coming from it. This made Gao Zifu even more surprised, after all, in this era, there were very few people who could operate such a thing.

  Chen Xiaoqi looked at him and raised an eyebrow, asking: "What's wrong? Did the clothes arrive?" Gao Zhai Fang smiled apologetically and said: "It's like this, Mr. Chen. Just now you instructed our store to handle the clothes, but the person over there replied that the owner, Mr. Craig, wants to come visit you in person."

  Chen Xiaoqi found it strange, why did a foreigner suddenly come out to see him? However, he was not too surprised, and just nodded slightly: "Oh, okay, if he's here, you can bring him over."

  Gao Zhangfang was deeply impressed! He thought to himself, "This guy is really able to hold his own in a situation like this. The foreigner came to visit personally and didn't even say it was a welcoming ceremony or anything. No wonder he's a friend of Chen Zhanggui's - he's got style!" The smile on his face became even more genuine, and Gao Zangfang nodded diligently: "Alright, I remember. There's something else I need to tell you, I didn't let the people below go buy clothes for you, did I? The one who opened the store is a Frenchman named Denis, and I was worried that the people below would give him a hard time, so I instructed them to say it was for Mr. Lu Jiachu, the chairman of the Dahua Dyeing Factory's friend, to make arrangements. This matter wasn't made clear to you beforehand, so here I am apologizing to you. Later on, if that foreigner brings it up, please be a bit more accommodating."

  Chen Xiaoqi was delighted and thought to himself that this matter was quite interesting. Just as he wanted to understand some human relationships, this person's family came knocking on his door. This was a rare good opportunity, so he didn't say anything and continued to act calmly, saying: "Oh, it's nothing, don't worry, I won't tell anyone. However, when you see Mr. Lu, it's better for you to explain it yourself."

  The tall accountant nodded repeatedly, and carefully took out the cups and plates used for breakfast. In just a few minutes, he returned, this time followed by three people. One of them was an old foreigner with a big beard, wearing a black top hat, a black suit, a black tie, white gloves, and shiny black leather shoes. He held a sleek cane in his hand, had blue eyes and green hair, was tall and thin, and looked like a walking stick. His two eyes stared straight at Chen Xiaoqi as he entered. With his left hand, he naturally removed his hat, slightly bowed his head, and said in a strange tone of Chinese: "Hello! Mr. Chen!"

  Chen Xiaoqi was still dressed in the same attire, when a foreigner suddenly rushed in and was surprisingly polite. He felt it would be inappropriate to remain seated, so he hurriedly stood up, clasped his hands together (at this moment, he was extremely grateful for the training on ancient etiquette they received from their leader during the Hanfu worship ceremony) and slightly bowed: "Hello, Mr. Craig."

  Dennis Craig burst out laughing, his two hands parted to the sides, and the two Chinese men following behind him immediately took over his cane and top hat. The high-collared servant was even quicker in catching the coat he had taken off, hanging it on a wooden rack by the door.

  Dennis laughed and said: "Mr. Chen, your outfit is really... how should I put it? Ah, very distinctive! Very characteristic! Haha!"

  Xiaoqi Chen looked down at his outfit. He was wearing a pure cotton vest, with a towel wrapped around his waist and a pair of slippers on his feet. This was extremely impolite in social settings, whether meeting guests outside or at home, so he smiled apologetically: "I'm really sorry, Mr. Craig, due to some special reasons, I couldn't wear my clothes, that's why I need to come to your store to buy new ones, this is all I can wear."

  He spoke a string of words in a completely different Mandarin accent from the standard dialect of later generations, and Dennis, who only understood a few Chinese phrases, couldn't understand what he was saying. Fortunately, his Chinese assistant behind him translated promptly, avoiding an awkward silence.

  Chen Xiaoqi was quite sensitive and immediately understood what was going on. He quickly said in fluent American English, "Mr. Craig, I think it would be more convenient for us to communicate in English!"

  "Dennis exclaimed in surprise: "Oh! I'm really surprised, your English is so fluent, this is great! Hmm, but the pronunciation is a bit strange!"

  He spoke in English as well, but it was discernible that he had a British accent, with some French words and syllables mixed in, possibly due to the influence of his native language.

  Chen Xiaoqi smiled and said, "This is not strange, I grew up in the United States, you know, the pronunciation and grammar there are slightly different from those in the UK, but that doesn't hinder our communication, does it?"

  "Dennis said, 'Yes, yes, it's best to communicate in a language we're all familiar with, you know? In China, it's really difficult to find someone who can chat freely. Of course, if you can speak French, that would be even more ideal.'"

  Chen Xiaoqi had heard about the French people's so-called arrogance, most of whom would say they spoke English, but they would rather die than admit that English was more popular than their own language. Especially now that France still has many colonies, they didn't think their own language was inferior to English in any way, and even thought it was the most elegant language in the world. As a certain big shot in "The Matrix" said: "Swearing in French is like wiping your butt with silk."

  However, he didn't show much interest in catering to the Frenchman's pride, and with a faint smile, said: "That's unfortunate, but I think you can also consider learning Chinese. You know, there are over 450 million people speaking Chinese in this world. Maybe you'll find its charm, it's an ancient language that has been passed down for five thousand years."

  Dennis nodded casually, as if he hadn't heard anything, and looked around in all directions before saying: "Hmm, Mr. Chen, the conditions here are not bad, but some of the decorations are too terrible. The person who decorated this place doesn't understand aesthetics at all. And these oil paintings, my god, where did they buy them from? How can they be used to decorate a room of this standard? Their manager should fire that person!"

  Chen Xiaoqi couldn't help but glance at Gao Zifu, who looked bewildered and didn't understand what they were saying. He thought to himself, "This foreigner is too much, how can he say this in front of others?" Fortunately, Gao Zifu didn't understand. Chen Xiaoqi hastily cleared his throat to interrupt Dennis's momentum: "Mr. Craig, I think these things have nothing to do with what we need to do. Let's talk about my clothes instead."

  Dennis didn't feel embarrassed at all, and with a hint of unfulfilled desire, he said: "Oh, okay. So my dear Chen, what style and color suit do you want to wear? I can give you very professional advice! I've brought several styles, why don't you try them on first?"

  Chen Xiaoqi had actually seen the suit in the hands of his assistant, and it was clear that this Dennis had a good business mind. Originally, Chen Xiaoqi only wanted to buy shirts and pants, but this Frenchman brought over the entire set of suits, including vests, ties, cufflinks, and even leather shoes, as if he was going to package him up from head to toe.

  However, the styles and colors of those suits were not so perfect. The suits of this era were almost all designed according to the body shape and physique of Westerners, and for the generally malnourished and short Easterners, most suits did not fit well.

  The first Japanese people to westernize were the earliest orientals to wear Western suits and tailcoats, thinking that by doing so they had left behind the big family of Oriental culture and entered the circle of Westerners, unaware that Westerners merely regarded them as yellow monkeys in suits.

  Due to the influence of that sense of superiority, it's simply ridiculous to ask Westerners to accommodate Eastern body types and aesthetics by specially designing suits and Western-style formal wear for Easterners. Since Chinese people first started making Western suits in Shanghai in the late 19th century, although there have been some improvements over the years, most still conform to Western aesthetic standards. Except for a small number of tall and stately Easterners who can show off their unique features in a suit, the vast majority don't even know that height, weight, hairstyle, skin color, and lifestyle habits all have an important impact on clothing choices.

  It's not that Eastern people don't know how to dress up, on the contrary, they are three thousand years ahead of Westerners. Take any family with a scholarly tradition or an official background, and you'll find they pay great attention to dressing properly, because as early as the Yellow Emperor era, they already understood the importance of wearing clothes in order to show respect, and when it comes to clothing culture, East and West differ by more than just one century.

  It's just that since the Yuan, Ming and Qing dynasties recklessly used the blood of hundreds of millions of Chinese people to carry out a historically unprecedented grand fusion with far-reaching influence, which has been delightful for historians to talk about for generations. After that, tens of billions of Chinese people have largely forgotten what their traditional clothes look like and how to wear them.