Chapter 18: Guest or Lover

Despite Su Ziceng’s performance being barely satisfactory, Sister Mu didn’t reproach her. Instead, she comforted her, saying, "Being a saleswoman at 'Admiration' is not an easy job. Your predecessor, Yan Wuxu, took a whole half month to sell the first item. Selling an item in ten days qualifies as an excellent saleswoman, in half a month, a competent one, and in a month..." Zimu paused here to take a sip of her drink. Su Ziceng didn’t know Zimu’s last name, so normally she just called her "Sister Mu." Sister Mu was a woman who almost never drank water; Su Ziceng had never seen her drink anything other than alcohol. Sometimes, Su Ziceng even suspected that it was alcohol flowing through Sister Mu’s veins instead of blood. But Sister Mu was sober when she said this, and thus, Su Ziceng understood the underlying meaning: if she couldn’t sell even one item in a month, she could undoubtedly pack her bags and leave. So, from that day on, Su Ziceng would tell herself to seize every opportunity with each customer that walked in. However, without exception, the customers would unconditionally follow Sister Mu’s recommendations and ignore hers. Sister Mu might seem like a dim oil lamp, yet in the store "Admiration," she attracted everyone’s attention. If the first customer was a fluke, then after ten days, the unanimous following of Sister Mu’s advice by a full hundred customers couldn’t just be a coincidence. Su Ziceng repeatedly pondered these past few days the sight of customers from the moment they entered until they left. Like just now, a woman with an eight-year-old girl was cajoled by Zimu into buying a bottle of decorative fruit-infused wine, simply because Zimu said it tasted sweet and sour like green apples. This was practically abducting someone’s sense, like selling wigs to an eighty-year-old woman and coaxing an eight-year-old to buy "apple wine." Su Ziceng had put on a competent smile, but her self-confidence was already shattered to bits by Zimu. Today was the tenth day; she had to catch a customer walking in and prevent them from being "snatched" by Zimu. The glass door was pushed open firmly, signaling the entrance of yet another new customer. Seizing the moment before Zimu stood up, Su Ziceng approached, greeting warmly, "Hello, over here we have the latest in..." She was holding lingerie kits that had been sold in ten sets yesterday, thanks to Sister Mu’s smooth talking. Her tongue was tied up in her mouth as she faced a single male customer, likely in his mid-twenties, his fingers free of any accessories that would indicate marital status. Su Ziceng’s fingers were still pinching that fishnet bra, the holes gazing at her agape mouth in a mutual stare-off. Zimu didn’t rush to greet the customer as she usually did. She sat by her usual spot next to the display window, eyes closed, with her own glass of drink on the table, alongside another empty one for guests. The male customer, who was kindly not staring at the little darlings in Su Ziceng’s hands, was bathed in the crystal lamp’s light. His gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose reflected light onto Su Ziceng’s face, forcing her to squint involuntarily. As she tried to force her eyes open, she saw a face, one that prompts a quick shift in gaze after just one look. There are only two kinds of such faces in the world. One is the kind that you avert your eyes from out of respect for the other person, often accompanied by a sense of pity. The other kind is due to timidity; you fear that looking any longer might cause you to fall forever. The man in front of her belonged to the second category. He must have been accustomed to people’s astonishment when they met him, as he politely replied, "I think what you have in your hands is not quite suitable for me." Su Ziceng could only stare at the few pathetic pieces of fabric and listen to the deep male voice next to her ear, prematurely declaring the end of her tenth day as a saleswoman. A man entering a women’s boutique, still single—what could he possibly buy? He must want to buy something. The man wore a pair of polished leather shoes. Su Ziceng didn’t dare to lift her head, nor was she willing to back away and give up on this male customer. On the leather shoes were two pairs of eyes; one pair belonged to Su Ziceng, the other to the man who seemed to be looking down, sizing up Su Ziceng’s forehead. Beneath the leather shoes... were some fragments of grass. Looking further down, Su Ziceng saw a few familiar leaves. She slowly lifted her head, and the mole by her mouth, in the light of "Admiration," transformed into a butterfly taking flight. "Would you be interested in a unique vase then?" Su Ziceng walked over to Zimu’s side, bent down, and pulled out an empty bottle from beside her prosthetic leg. It was a freshly emptied bottle, still carrying a hint of the potent whiskey aroma. "The roses in your home, placed in a vase still scented with whiskey, will bloom longer. This is a little flower care tip that our gardener told me," Su Ziceng held the slim-necked bottle, which then assumed the identity of a delicate antique vase. Those eyes, unblinkingly open, even their trembling eyelashes conveyed hope. "Oh?" The man’s lips curved into a smile, followed by a nod. "As it happens, my office is missing a vase. Thank you, kind miss." The words were clearly a tease, but when spoken by him, they took on a different flavor, turning into the sincerest compliment. "Since you’re lacking a vase, why don’t you buy it?" Sister Mu stood up without any hesitation, stating the price of a full bottle of liquor, disregarding the soft protest from Su Ziceng behind her. "Sister Mu, is that how you treat your guests?" The man shook his head but still bought the bottle at the full price. Listening to their conversation, Su Ziceng realized that the man and Sister Mu were acquainted. She flushed with embarrassment, hid behind the counter, and started tallying today’s accounts. The clink of two glasses touching didn’t capture the man’s eye; instead, he occasionally glanced at the tip of the head that popped up now and then from behind the counter. "Pello," Zimu pretended to be displeased, "I don’t appreciate being neglected." "Sister Mu," Pello leaned back in the armchair, withdrawing his gaze. "In your territory, no one can match even a fraction of your brilliance." "All of that is in the past. Women change." Zimu sipped her liquor, her voice laced with a hint of weariness. The rim of the tall glass faced the direction where Su Ziceng stood. "Every one of them, when they first entered the shop, was like this glass—pristine and flawless. In the end, when they leave, they all change; some carry the scent of liquor, some wear lipstick marks, and some smell of money." Pello didn’t join in the conversation, turning his gaze to one side, falling upon the now-empty display case, "Gone?" "As you wished, it has found its owner," Zimu responded. At the cash register, Su Ziceng suddenly popped her head out. "Sister Mu, the first order?" "The first order!" Zimu lifted her glass, then glanced at Pello beside her, thoughtfully responding. The same customer, the same first order, but no one will know what kind of dreams this new sales assistant will find in this store.