“Qipao1Traditional close-fitting Chinese dress business?”
The next evening, Zhao Jingwen, as usual, brought his nephew to the Ning family for dinner.
Midway through the conversation, he frowned, pointing at a pile of edamame on the table and said to Ning Jianguo, “Jianguo, throw out the spoiled ones. What if Xiaobei and Xiao Xia eat them and get a stomachache?”
“Yeah, Uncle Ning, I was just thinking, this stuff smells really bad. Did you forget it in the fridge and only just remember to take it out?”
Fan Xia pinched his nose as he said it.
Ning Xiaobei, meanwhile, sat there silently, watching these two overreact.
“This isn’t regular edamame, it’s Japanese natto2Natto (纳豆): Fermented Japanese soybeans, known for its strong smell and sticky texture. Ding Zheyang’s mom specially brought it for us. It’s really good for your health. It’s fermented, that’s why it smells.”
“Ah? So it’s like Shaoxing stinky tofu? Turns out Japanese people eat stinky tofu too?”
Hearing good for your health, the uncle-nephew pair reluctantly followed Ning Xiaobei’s lead and tried two beans each, then both raised their hands in surrender.
“Our Chinese stomachs just can’t handle this Japanese cuisine. We can manage raw fish and sushi, but this… no way, can’t stomach it.”
Ning Jianguo had no choice but to take the natto away and fetch some marinated cucumbers from the fridge, which finally suited their tastes.
“Uncle Zhao, keep talking. What’s this qipao business? Ding Zheyang’s parents run a travel agency, so why are they doing clothing too?”
Ning Xiaobei felt this piece of news was important. It might even affect Uncle Zhao and Ding Zheyang’s parents’ future career paths.
“Oh, it’s like this: over the years they’ve hosted many tour groups. Some wealthy Japanese ladies, used to wearing kimonos, want to try old Shanghai qipao. Japan has also screened Chinese movies—like Gong Li in 《Raise the Red Lantern3A 1991 film depicting concubines in 1920s China》, or《The Peony Pavillion》. Anyway, when they come to Shanghai, they want to buy qipao to wear.”
Zhao Jingwen explained.
“My great-aunt always said, a qipao has to be tailored close to the body to look good. If you ordered one last year, it might need adjustments this year; ask the alleyway tailor to loosen it or take it in. Though there’s the saying, ‘shoes shouldn’t lose a fraction, clothes shouldn’t lose an inch’, a qipao can’t be off even half an inch. One inch too wide, and you look like a sack; one inch too tight, and it’s like being bound up.”
Ning Xiaobei hadn’t seen pigs run, but he’d certainly eaten pork.
In the Ning family’s second-floor rosewood cabinet, over half the clothes were qipao once worn by the great-aunt when she was young.
Even though she stopped wearing them after modern society began, she still kept them neatly organized, and both father and son had been influenced by her appreciation.
“That may be true, but tour groups only spend a week at the shortest, two weeks at most. Who has time for custom-made dresses? They’d have to buy ready-to-wear.”
Zhao Jingwen waved his hand. “That’s the point: there are too few ready-to-wear qipao shops in Shanghai. In the whole giant clothing market, there’s only one store selling qipao and it’s the kind worn by restaurant waitresses. Either bright red or bright green, slits up to the thigh; none of that classical charm.”
“So what they mean is, they want to invest in a clothing store with you, selling ready-to-wear qipao?”
Ning Jianguo carefully put the three peeled shrimp into each of their bowls, looking a bit worried. “But the initial investment must be huge. There aren’t many manufacturers making ready-to-wear qipao now, and they might have to set up a factory themselves or hire designers. I’m afraid just relying on tour groups won’t be enough.”
“It’s not just the tour groups. They’ve got connections in Japan, so they can help export the qipao there. But I can’t only do business for Japanese customers. And who in Shanghai still wears qipao? I’ve grown up mostly seeing it in my childhood, and later only in comedy shows or Shanghai opera performances.”
“Yeah, who wears that kind of antique stuff nowadays?”
Fan Xia said, picking up a century egg to dip in soy sauce. The egg was too slippery, and he kept failing to hold it with his chopsticks, leaving tiny splatters of soy sauce all around the dish.
Ning Xiaobei couldn’t watch him struggle, so he used a spoon to scoop up the egg and held it to Fan Xia’s mouth. Fan Xia opened wide and chomped off half in one bite.
“You’re really good to me, Boss…”
Fan Xia chewed the egg with a goofy smile.
Ever since Ning Xiaobei became a library assistant, life for Fan Xia had gotten much better.
Besides the unlimited book-borrowing perk at No. 1 High School library, there was a fantastic bonus. During lunch break, library assistants had to help out, so Teacher Wang gave each of them an ID card identifying them as assistants. With this card, they could get lunch in the cafeteria without standing in line, enjoying VIP treatment!
After Ning Xiaobei and the others moved up to second-year middle school, they switched to a new classroom. The classroom was on the north side of the school, in a five-story building that had been newly renovated last year. The desks were pristine, the floors covered with soundproof carpet, and the facilities absolutely top-notch.
But it had one fatal flaw: it was way too far from the middle school cafeteria.
Even for Fan Xia, the class’s little running ace, it took five minutes to dash from the fourth floor to the cafeteria, timing the last bell of the morning class perfectly, not taking the main path but cutting through the garden trail and over the fake hill.
Five minutes, what did that mean?
At lunch, half the boys and girls in middle school turned into food warriors, charging toward the cafeteria like a dark, overwhelming army. By the time Fan Xia’s crew arrived, the lines were already stretching out the door.
By the time they finally got their food, it was at least twenty minutes later. The dishes were cold, the meat gone, and even the free soup nearly finished.
Other students could bear it, but Fan Xia was a glutton. He couldn’t go a moment hungry. By halfway through the last morning class, his butt would be climbing out of his chair like it had nails in it. Shifting back and forth, moaning about hunger, Ning Xiaobei was driven to despair.
But now it was different. Thanks to the VIP card hanging around his neck, Ning Xiaobei could strut into the cafeteria every noon, whether on duty or not, cut through the squawking little ones, and place lunch orders at the counter for himself and Fan Xia. Fan Xia didn’t have to queue at all; he could just grab a seat and wait for Ning Xiaobei to deliver the food.
“Hey, Boss. If it weren’t for you, how would I get by? My gut’s already broken, I might as well go cause trouble.”
At times like this, Fan Xia would throw his arms around Ning Xiaobei’s shoulders, singing nonsense, pretending to kiss him, only to be shoved away by Ning Xiaobei.
Even his gay ears couldn’t tolerate this kind of talk, especially coming from a kid with full-blown middle-school melodrama.
“Boss, if we were apart, I really don’t think I could get by…”
Fan Xia muttered quietly while chewing with his chopsticks.
Zhao Jingwen placed a piece of duck leg into Ning Jianguo’s bowl and continued, “Right now, Shanghai’s hot trend is all kinds of Western clothing, handbags, and belts. Japanese styles, European styles, especially knockoffs of French and Italian brands, put them on the shelves today, and they’re sold out by tomorrow. That’s real business. Qipao… are already outdated, nobody buys them.”
“Then… then, Uncle Zhao, did you refuse Ding Zheyang’s parents’ proposal?”
Ning Xiaobei put down his spoon and asked hurriedly.
He thought the proposal wasn’t just good, it was excellent.
Although qipao had declined in Shanghai in recent years, he remembered that in 2000, Wong Kar-wai’s film 《In the Mood for Love4In the Mood for Love (花样年华): A 2000 romantic drama film by Wong Kar-wai, set in 1960s Hong Kong, following two neighbors who form a deep emotional bond after suspecting their spouses of infidelity.》was released. Though the story took place in Hong Kong, the film was filled with hints of Shanghai’s style.
“Throughout the film, Maggie Cheung wore more than twenty different qipaos, each graceful and elegant, swaying with every movement. At the time, this sparked a qipao craze in Shanghai, and young girls would rummage through their grandmothers’ and great-grandmothers’ wardrobes, hunting for the Maggie Cheung look.
A year later, Shanghai hosted the 9th Informal APEC Leadership Meeting. On the last day, the world leaders posed for a group photo wearing colorful Tangzhuang5Tangzhuang (唐装): A modernized Chinese jacket inspired by traditional Qing- and Ming-era clothing, often worn for formal or festive occasions..
After that, a retro fashion wave swept through Shanghai and indeed the whole country. Tangzhuang, magua6Magua (马褂): A traditional Qing-era short jacket with front buttons and side slits, originally worn over long robes by men, especially for horseback riding., and qipaos returned to public attention.
That year’s Spring Festival, local tailor shops were absolutely booming. People crowded inside and outside with rolls of silk, wanting custom-made clothes. Most of the fabrics were long-stored leftovers, smelling of aged camphor balls, bought from old silk stores.
Shanghai’s three major silk and cloth shops in the past were all founded by Ningbo merchants: Baodaxiang, Xiedaxiang, and Xindaxiang, collectively under Shanghai Sandaxiang Textile Co.”
Even the local tailor, a Ningbo native who hadn’t worked on traditional clothing for years, was overjoyed to see these old fabrics, as if meeting long-lost friends. Silks like satin, woven brocade, Xiangyun silk, plain crepe, flannel, and worsted — just touching them felt like opening dusty old books and stepping back into those splendid times.
Now it’s the end of 1998, just two years before these retro waves peak. If someone got in early, they could make a fortune.
Not to mention that twenty years later, the rise of ‘national trend style7Guochao (国朝): Meaning “national trend”. This fashion movement rose to prominence in 2018 by Li Ning who combined Chinese modernity with Chinese traditional wear‘ and Hanfu craze would make such ventures even more profitable.
Uncle Zhao could turn the tap, dive into this blue ocean, and there’d be no worry about making money or buying a house.
“I didn’t exactly say no,” Zhao Jingwen admitted. “I just said I’d think about it…”
He still felt the proposal wasn’t entirely practical. Doing qipaos specifically for Japanese clients was risky. What if their tastes changed in a few years? He could be stuck with unsellable stock.
“I found some factories in Guangzhou that make counterfeit leather goods. They’ve already sent me samples. From the leather to the hardware and dust bags, everything is a 1:1 copy. Even side by side, you couldn’t tell the difference. Shanghai has counterfeit makers too, but they don’t even qualify as ‘A grade,’ let alone ‘Super A.’ If this business grows…”
“You’d get sued,” Ning Xiaobei couldn’t help interjecting.
“Nonsense. Who would sue?”
Zhao Jingwen chuckled lightly.
“The manufacturers would sue you.”
“Foreigners have nothing better to do. My business is still so small. Why would they bother crossing the ocean to come after me?”
He stroked his chin, paused, and continued, “Then forget imitating handbags… let’s imitate shoes instead. Jianguo, that’s really our specialty. High-end leather shoes sell for a good price. With your cafeteria finally running smoothly and not needing constant supervision, you can help with making the molds, maybe…”
“Maybe we’d all get caught too.”
Ning Xiaobei was genuinely panicking now. He put down his chopsticks and hurried over to Ning Jianguo, waving his hands frantically. “Dad, this absolutely can’t happen.”
Organizing the sale of fakes and making fakes—good grief! In just one meal, Uncle Zhao had cooked up two criminal charges and was trying to drag his good, law-abiding father into it. Not a chance!
“Xiaobei, what’s gotten into you? Every time Uncle Zhao says something today, you argue back. Kids shouldn’t behave like this.”
Seeing Zhao Jingwen’s slightly puzzled look, Ning Jianguo shot his son a stern glance, thinking he was being a bit too cheeky.
“It’s not… I just think that since Ding Zheyang’s parents have been abroad all these years, they must have a broad perspective. Even if not many people like qipaos now, maybe in a few years they’ll come back in style?”
Ning Xiaobei racked his brain, trying to gather his words.
“Isn’t there that song—“Though I wear Western clothes on my body, my heart remains Chinese ? Didn’t Lu Xun also say—‘Only that which is national can be global’?” (①)
He licked his lips and continued, “In a few years, Beijing will host the Olympics…”
“Ah? When? How come I don’t know about this?”
“Didn’t we fail the bid in 1991? The 2000 Olympics were in Australia, right?”
Zhao Jingwen and Ning Jianguo exchanged glances.
Oops, the successful Beijing Olympic bid was actually in 2001, he’d just accidentally leaked the future! Ning Xiaobei slapped his thigh.
“I’m just guessing… I feel like next time we’ll definitely win. And it’ll definitely be an unforgettable Olympics for the whole world. The promotional videos, the Olympic hostesses, the award presenters —they’ll all wear qipaos, right? That’s when qipaos will definitely become popular.”
“The 2008 Olympics… wow, Jianguo, how old will we be by then? Xiaobei and Fan Xia would be in college, maybe even married?”
Zhao Jingwen crossed his arms, finding it impossible to imagine these two little guys grown up with families.
“Xiaobei, what you’re talking about is way too far ahead. Uncle only does small business, not national planning. We don’t plan five or ten years into the future,” Zhao Jingwen said realistically.
“Counterfeits bring fast money. Guangdong already has the full supply chain; I can make a few designs each season and earn quick cash. Qipao business, though… the chain is too long. Fabric, workers, designers — all have to be lined up one by one. By the time everything’s ready and the money’s invested, if it doesn’t sell well, I’d lose out badly.”
“Let me say one thing.”
Ning Jianguo stayed silent for a long while before finally speaking his mind.
“I’m not a businessman. Even though I now run the school cafeteria, I see myself as a worker; doing things cleanly and honestly, working steadily and properly.”
There wasn’t a word of exaggeration in Ning Jianguo’s statement. Ever since he took over the textile school’s cafeteria, not only had the quality of the food jumped a whole level, earning praise from teachers and students alike, but prices had actually gone down compared to before.
Ning Jianguo believed that anyone coming to eat, teachers or students, should get good food at a fair price, clean and hygienic, so they could eat happily and without worry— a sharp contrast to the old, dilapidated cafeteria of No. 1 High School.
“After I finished junior high, I went to Heilongjiang as a volunteer soldier. Later, when I was discharged and returned to Shanghai, I was assigned to a shoe factory. I didn’t know any of precision work and molds. My master taught me bit by bit.”
“My master once said something that I will remember my whole life: doing work is living properly, and living properly is doing work. Life is about dignity. You can talk as nicely as you want, but if your work is sloppy, you’ve lost your face. And there are no shortcuts in either living properly or working properly.”
Zhao Jingwen said nothing, just watching him.
Ning Xiaobei and Fan Xia also looked at Ning Jianguo in silence.
In their memories, their father had always been a man of few words. Unlike the eloquent and charming Zhao Jingwen, he quietly got things done, like an old ox; diligent and silent.
Seeing him speak so animatedly like this was something Ning Xiaobei hadn’t witnessed even in his two lives.
“We mold using our own hands and flesh together with machines. My master was an eighth-level fitter. Just by feel, he could polish a precision steel mold to one-sixteenth the thickness of a single human hair. I once asked him how he did it. Was it British or American machines? No. It’s one word — practice. Practice until your hands can feel a piece of paper and measure its thickness in microns.”
“This kind of work has no shortcuts. Life has no shortcuts. If you try to cut corners, you’ll lose face, be humiliated… I think the world’s great truths are all connected. You can’t live properly and think you can run a business recklessly… Xiaobei, do you think what I’m saying makes sense?”
Seeing that the three of them were silent, all staring at him wide-eyed, Ning Jianguo felt a little embarrassed and scratched his head.
“I didn’t study much, only finished middle school, and I’m not good with words. Don’t laugh at me.”
“Jianguo, these two haven’t even finished junior high. How could they laugh at you? What you said makes perfect sense, it’s very insightful.”
Zhao Jingwen couldn’t help himself and reached out with both hands to shake Ning Jianguo’s, only to have him push them away.
“Ahem… what Dad said is very good.”
Ning Xiaobei cleared his throat and raised his hand in applause.
Fan Xia clapped along too, making a small smacking sound.
“Well… then. I’ll find a time in the next day or two to talk in detail with Ding Kai and his wife. See exactly how to arrange everything…”
Thinking of all the time and money spent in Guangzhou on research and sample production that might be wasted, Zhao Jingwen still felt a pang in his heart.
But with Ning Jianguo speaking out, he knew he had to take it seriously. This matter would require careful planning.
Seeing Ning Jianguo speak so firmly, Ning Xiaobei took a deep breath, pressing a hand against his wildly beating chest, and sat back down at the table.
He told himself that at least things were moving in a good direction, and there was no need to rush.
“But speaking of qipao… us clueless men really don’t know anything. We’ll need to find an expert to ask for some guidance,” Zhao Jingwen said, draping his arm over Ning Jianguo’s shoulder.
“Before the holiday, I want to prepare a big gift, then go to Jiande Lane to visit Grandma Ning and see that priceless rosewood wardrobe, supposedly worth a few yellow croakers,” he added with a wink.
Seeing the two kids bury their heads back in their food, Zhao Jingwen suddenly leaned close to Ning Jianguo’s ear and whispered in a teasing tone, “Mainly, it’s to pay respects to mother-in-law…”
His words were cut short when Ning Jianguo stomped hard on his foot.
So, on the eve of the Spring Festival, Zhao Jingwen carried a mountain of holiday gifts to Jiande Lane. Before anyone could say anything, Ning Xiaobei and Fan Xia learned a major piece of news straight from Grandma Ning:
Xiao Mei was going home for the New Year to get married this year.
………………
Author’s Note:
Note ①: Lyric reference from Annie Yi,《Without You8Ru Guo Mei You Ni (如果没有你)》
I only looked it up while writing this, the Beijing Olympics bid was successfully won in 2001… Wow, 20 years already. Back then, we were still gearing up for the Olympics every day.
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