Chapter 106: Strolling Through the Department Store

Uncle Han’s warmth toward Chen Liang had its reasons—he was hoping to secure some help for his precious son, Han Xiao’er. It’s true what they say: children are debts left unpaid from a previous life, and sometimes those debts linger forever.

Pedaling his bicycle while biting into an ice pop, Chen Liang listened to the slurping sounds coming from the seat behind him. His mind wandered, and he silently vowed that tonight his wife would have to satisfy her craving for ice pops once and for all—how could she be so tempting?

The department store wasn’t far from Chen Liang’s home, normally a fifteen- or twenty-minute ride. But afraid that Xiao Yu might be scorched by the sun, he sped along, arriving at the entrance in just ten minutes.

After parking, he took Xiao Yu’s hand. With her notorious lack of direction, if he dared let go, she’d be swept away by the crowd in moments, destined to be called for over the loudspeaker to collect a lost person. Hard lessons had taught Chen Liang that whenever they went out and the crowd thickened, he must grip her hand tightly.

Outside the bustling department store, streams of people came and went—friends calling out to each other, parents scolding children, husbands snapping at wives—all together forming a vibrant scene unique to the era.

Navigating through the crowd, Chen Liang finally squeezed into the office area behind the department store. Already soaked with sweat, he now looked as if he’d just been hauled out of water.

He found his sister-in-law and stood beneath the office ceiling fan, savoring its breeze. Though the air was warm, it was the best he could hope for—when there are no white radishes, carrots and cucumbers become treasures.

“You’re here, Chen Liang! Xiao Yu! Sit down, sit down!” His sister-in-law moved to pour them water, but Chen Liang stopped her and pulled two apples from his small satchel, handing one to her and one to Xiao Yu.

Once the apples were eaten, Chen Liang produced the tickets for an electric fan and a radio. “Sister-in-law, I managed to get these two tickets. Can you help me with the paperwork?”

“Of course! You two sit tight, I’ll be back in a flash.” She took the tickets and hurried out.

As mentioned before, in this era, buying large items couldn’t be kept secret. Chen Liang’s sister-in-law was the accountant at the department store; not asking her for help would make little sense.

After a while, she returned, sweating, and handed Chen Liang two receipts. He could now collect his goods directly from the warehouse, avoiding the crowded sales counter.

Chen Liang thanked her, chatted with her for a few moments with Xiao Yu by his side, then they took their leave.

The main errand was done, and since Xiao Yu rarely ventured out, Chen Liang let her stay close, guiding her through the bustling department store with no particular purpose, simply enjoying the stroll.

Passing the pastry section, they saw two women locked in a fierce scuffle, surrounded by a crowd eager for drama. Clothes were torn, hair pulled, slaps and kicks exchanged—each move was merciless, fiercer than any fight between men.

Given the heat, the women’s light clothing soon gave way, exposing pale, rounded flesh. The commotion grew—Xiao Yu, shy by nature, immediately covered her face, though her fingers spread wide, a gesture more for comfort than concealment.

Chen Liang, shameless as ever, stared wide-eyed, making odd noises. Some in the crowd even whistled lewdly.

Of course, Chen Liang dared not join in the catcalls; instead, he quietly hugged Xiao Yu and watched the spectacle with decorum.

Perhaps it was the loud whistles that startled the fighting women. Suddenly flustered, they hastily covered their exposed skin with scraps of clothing, pressed an arm across their chests, hid their faces, and fled.

Chen Liang, annoyed, muttered about those uncivilized spectators—why whistle? Now the show was over; nothing left to see. Civility would have been so much sweeter!

Grumbling, he led Xiao Yu onward, passing the fabric section, which was even more crowded.

Today, the department store had just received a shipment of Dacron fabric from Shanghai, and half the young people in the city were queued up.

In the sixties and seventies, Dacron was the best fabric in Rabbit Country. Compared to the dull black, grey, and blue cotton, its bright, shiny colors were much preferred by young people.

There’s a little story about this. Once, a man queued for Dacron, but when his turn came, only a small piece remained—enough for a pair of underwear. He’d waited so long, he refused to let it go to waste, so he bought it and had his wife make him underwear.

But Dacron was meant to be flaunted. Underwear was hidden, so he had an idea: he hung a sign from his waist reading, “Dacron Inside.”

Walking through the streets, people who saw the sign instantly knew he wore Dacron underwear—and he was overjoyed.

One day, stomach aching, he rushed to a public restroom. The sign made squatting difficult, so he hung it on the restroom door.

When he emerged, to his surprise, a long queue had formed at the door. Curious, he asked someone, who replied, “Didn’t you see the sign? Dacron for sale inside! If you don’t queue, you’ll miss out.”

He was so flustered he ran off, and from then on never wore the sign again.

Though the story was written later for amusement, it reflected the craze for Dacron at the time—the desire to show off is a deeply human instinct.

Chen Liang’s family didn’t need to queue for Dacron; his sister-in-law’s job brought hidden perks, allowing her to buy internally at employee prices, saving quite a bit.

Chen Liang was certain his sister-in-law would bring home a bolt of Dacron tonight.

He strolled leisurely through the department store with Xiao Yu, buying whatever caught his eye—mostly small accessories, hair clips and flowers.

With a supermarket at his disposal, Chen Liang lacked nothing. His main purpose in these outings was to help dress Xiao Yu beautifully—a man’s instinctive pastime for his beloved wife, ingrained to the bone.