Chapter Seventy-six: Sharing

Some say that when God closes a door for you, He will open a window. The reverse is true as well. Shen Yixia gazed at the window that had just been shut, and, with a sense of dejection, left the inn to wander aimlessly through the streets. Yet, a few minutes later, by chance, he discovered an open door.

It was a familiar door—the door of that Wuling van.

Shrugging his shoulders against the cold, Shen Yixia crept up to the van and peered stealthily inside. There was no sign of Han Yuan, which puzzled him. Suddenly, his ears twitched at the sound of voices drifting from a nearby shop that had yet to close for the night. The voices were somewhat familiar, so he followed them.

He stopped at the shop’s entrance, taking in the lavishly decorated storefront and the brightly lit sign reading “Birds of Paradise” in bold, colorful characters. Swallowing nervously, his mind conjured up scenes of passionate encounters under the glow of pink lights, and he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Shen Yixia pushed open the door—only to be stunned. The imagined scene was nowhere to be found: there were no rosy lights, no blazing passion, only row upon row of exquisite designer clothing, neatly hung on racks.

The shop owner, seated at the register, gave Shen Yixia’s ragged clothes a cursory glance but did not bother to stand, lazily remarking, “Pick what you like, look as much as you want, but no touching. If you find something, come here to pay.”

Shen Yixia glanced down at his own shabby attire and hurried to explain, “Actually, I’m not—”

At that moment, Han Yuan emerged from the fitting room with an armful of clothes. He tossed Shen Yixia a glance. “Well, well, what brings you here? Did you put a tracker on the van?”

“That old van? What’s the point? It’s older than I am—leave it on the curb and nobody would bother with it.” Shen Yixia briefly explained what had happened after Han Yuan left the inn, then sighed heavily. “Brother Yuan, looks like we’ll have to rely on each other to get through the night.”

“You really are down on your luck,” Han Yuan said, setting the clothes on the counter. He turned to the owner with a smile. “Boss Qin, let my little brother have my room tonight. I’ll just doze in the van.”

The owner waved a hand dismissively. “That Zhang Xiaoman already paid in advance anyway. Stay as you wish.”

Shen Yixia gazed at Han Yuan, eyes rimmed with red. “Brother Yuan, I never expected you’d be so generous. When you left the inn earlier, I even cursed you in my heart…” He gave himself a light slap. “I’m worthless… Maybe you should take the room. I can sleep in the van—I’m used to it.”

A muscle twitched at Han Yuan’s eye, but he managed to keep smiling. “It’s fine, really. I hardly sleep anyway—bed or van, it’s all the same.”

“I should take the van. I’m young, I can handle it—”

“Don’t be such a nag. It’s settled.” Han Yuan pressed the room key into Shen Yixia’s hand and pointed down the hall. “Room’s down there. Wash up and get some rest. We have errands in the city tomorrow.”

Shen Yixia looked at Han Yuan with gratitude, clutching the key tightly. After a pause, he asked in confusion, “We’re going to the city? Aren’t we heading back to A City?”

“Zhang Xiaoman just called and asked us to stop by the community park behind Ziyan Elementary tomorrow.” Han Yuan exhaled gloomily. “If I’d known it’d be such a hassle, I wouldn’t have agreed. One errand finished, another pops up. What a bother.”

“Oh,” Shen Yixia replied, still puzzled. Then, seeing the expensive clothes on the counter, he exclaimed, “Brother Yuan, you bought all these clothes? Each one looks pricey—how much did you spend?”

“I didn’t buy them…” Han Yuan answered vaguely, then smiled at Boss Qin. “Would you mind checking these for any damage?”

Boss Qin gave the clothes a quick glance. “No need. You’re a regular; I trust you.”

“Great, then keep the deposit.” Han Yuan gestured to his outfit. “This set’s perfect—I’ll take it.” He pulled a red bill from his pocket and tapped it on the counter. “Same as always, I’ll return them in a week.”

Boss Qin tossed the bill into a drawer. “A day or two late is fine. Business is slow lately—no other customers anyway.”

“So all these designer clothes are just borrowed?” Shen Yixia interrupted. “I thought so—you just got out, where would you get the money for brands?”

“Not borrowed—shared. If you don’t know, don’t talk nonsense.” Han Yuan pointed at the golden sign on the wall behind the counter. “Can’t you read? ‘Shared Clothing Store.’ Your observation skills are lacking, all that time playing puzzle games for nothing.”

Shen Yixia scratched his head. “I can read each character, but together I’m lost. What’s shared clothing?”

Boss Qin looked at him impatiently. “You don’t know that? Did you just crawl out of the mountains? Shared clothing means everyone takes turns wearing the same clothes—a few days for you, a few days for someone else, no need to buy. With housing prices so high, not everyone has space for big wardrobes. If you want to wear something new, come pick a piece and return it when you’re tired of it.”

Shen Yixia’s eyes widened. “There’s such a deal? Boss, you’re a true philanthropist! Your spirit is on par with Du Shaoling’s plea for ‘ten thousand great mansions to shelter all the poor!’” Rubbing his hands, he pointed at himself. “Boss, can I share an outfit here?”

“Of course,” Boss Qin replied, a sly smile on his face. “I already said—pick what you like, then…” He tapped the counter. “Pay here.”

Shen Yixia started to turn, then stopped, puzzled. “You still charge?”

Boss Qin snorted. “If you don’t pay, how do I eat?”

“But isn’t it shared? How’s that different from buying?”

“There’s a big difference. Buying means paying full price. Sharing is just one-tenth the retail price,” Han Yuan explained, stepping in for Boss Qin. “It’s not a new idea. For example, when you buy a house, do you really own it? No—you just have the right to use it for seventy or forty years. After that, if you want to stay, you pay again. Shared clothing is the same. You can use an outfit for up to six months.”

Shen Yixia frowned, still unconvinced. “Isn’t that just renting?”

“Did I not explain?” Han Yuan raised an eyebrow. “This is called sharing, not renting. Let me ask you: who owns these clothes?”

“They’re in Boss Qin’s shop, so he owns them.”

Boss Qin smiled and shook his head, as if to say, “Wrong answer.”

“That’s the key difference between sharing and traditional rental,” Han Yuan said, arms crossed. “With rentals, the shop owns the items. In sharing, the shop is just a platform. The clothes belong to different owners—maybe their wardrobes are full, or the clothes just gather dust but are too good to throw away. So they leave them here, lighten their load, and earn some pocket money. Why not?”

“Sounds good…” Shen Yixia scratched his head. “So Boss Qin just charges a storage fee? With such a big shop, isn’t it a losing business? How much does he get—ten or twenty percent?”

Han Yuan chuckled. “It’s a thirty-seventy split.”

“Thirty percent is pretty high—no wonder the place is so fancy.”

“Seventy percent goes to Boss Qin. The owners only get thirty.”

“What? That high? The owners are okay with that?”

“Sure—they don’t care about the money. They just want somewhere to keep their clothes. With a bit of an entrance barrier, making it look like shelf space is in short supply, some even pay to have their clothes here, waiving commission for the first three months. That’s what you call cutthroat competition.”

Shen Yixia gaped at Boss Qin, giving him a thumbs-up. “No wonder they say all businessmen are sly—this is genius! You just open the shop and collect money… Oh, and pay a little for cleaning, I guess.”

Boss Qin waved him off, interrupting. “Hey! Cleaning costs extra!” He pointed at Han Yuan. “And don’t praise me—it was Han Yuan’s idea. He’s the real mastermind!”

Han Yuan feigned modesty. “Just a little trick, hardly worth mentioning…” Suddenly, he remembered something and turned seriously to Boss Qin. “Boss Qin, has that old gentleman come by today?”

“Not yet—he usually comes about now…” Boss Qin glanced at the clock, then, hearing the sharp tap-tap-tap of a cane outside, announced, “Speak of the devil—he’s here!”

Han Yuan and Shen Yixia turned to the door as an elderly man in a black and gold tracksuit entered, leaning on a cane.

Leisurely, the old man approached Boss Qin and placed a bag on the counter. “Qin, hang these clothes up somewhere for me. Price doesn’t matter—you decide.”

Boss Qin was about to put the bag away when Han Yuan pressed a hand to it and drew out a white suit, gently stroking the fabric. “Fine silk and wool, hand-crafted. When this brand released this suit, there were only a hundred worldwide, all pre-ordered before hitting the shelves. Such a fine piece shouldn’t be wasted on someone who doesn’t appreciate it.” He pulled out a few red bills and placed them on the counter. “I’ll take this one, Boss Qin. No need to put it on display.”

The old man squinted at Han Yuan, then his eyes lit up. “You, boy! Weren’t you in prison? How are you out so soon?”

“Just out on some business,” Han Yuan answered respectfully. “If I mess it up, I might have to go back…”

The old man’s eyes twinkled. “Helping the police?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just pursed his lips. “Never mind. No need to tell me—I don’t want the trouble.” Grabbing Han Yuan’s arm, he said, “Since we’ve met, let’s have a good drink tonight! I’ve got a fine bottle at home, been saving it for years. Would be wasted on those with no taste.”

“But you have high blood pressure—should you drink at night?”

“If I’m not afraid, why should you be? Life is short—if I must drag on denying myself every pleasure, I’d rather end it with a block of tofu. Come on, let’s drink while we can!”

Han Yuan gave a wry smile and picked up the suit. He turned to Shen Yixia, who stood like a block of wood, and said, “I’m off to have a drink with this friend. I’ll probably be up late. Tomorrow, go find Zhang Yunxi and the others first, then come get me.”

Shen Yixia nodded blankly, watching Han Yuan and the old man leave. After a long while, he sighed. “I guess that old fellow’s home must be cramped, no room for his clothes. Brother Yuan really doesn’t think things through—getting drunk and crashing at someone else’s house, just making a tight place even tighter.”

Boss Qin glanced at Shen Yixia as if he were a fool, shook his head, and sat back down.

Shen Yixia looked at the key in his hand, yawned, hummed a little tune, and made his way to the room. He reached the door unhurriedly, slid the key into the lock, and opened it—only to be disappointed.

The room was barely eight square meters, the yellowed walls windowless, furnished only with a single bed in the center. Shen Yixia immediately understood why Han Yuan had given him the room; it was no different from a prison cell. Zhang Xiaoman had arranged it just to spite Han Yuan.

Shen Yixia stretched, shut the door, and flopped heavily onto the bed, exhaling a long breath as his eyes drifted shut.

Two hours later, Boss Qin locked up, switched off the lights, and retired to the master bedroom at the back.

At that moment, Shen Yixia’s ears twitched. Hearing that everything was silent outside, he snapped awake, rose from bed, and, with a cold expression, quietly opened his door. He crept to the shop entrance, produced a thin wire, and picked the lock in seconds. Gently closing the door behind him, he donned a devil-faced mask and slipped into the darkness…