043 A Girl Who Can’t Shop for Clothes Is Not a Good Girl

Someone glared at Lance, teeth clenched in frustration. Lance gestured toward the throng of women inside the shop, their eyes sparkling as they tried on one outfit after another. Then he glanced lightly at the person standing outside the shop, blending in seamlessly with the crowd of men, bags dangling from her hand. His expression seemed to say, “See for yourself.”

The men stationed at the shop entrance, acting as the proverbial “Waiting-for-their-wives Rock,” all flashed a friendly smile at the lone female ally standing in solidarity with them. A sudden surge of anger welled up inside her. She briskly shoved the shopping bags she held into Lance’s arms and, tilting her chin with a triumphant flair, declared, “Hold these for me, will you? I’m going in to look at some clothes.”

Without a backward glance, she marched into the shop. Lance watched her retreating figure with an amused look, as if anticipating a show.

No sooner had she entered than she stumbled upon a terrifying scene: women swarming around a bargain rack heaped with clothes, forming a veritable mountain. These garments were either odd sizes or out of season, but none of that could deter the women, for they all shared one trait—cheapness!

Thanks to her mother’s constant indoctrination, she had always had a special affection for these bargain bins—anything you could dig out was considered a steal! Swept along by the tide of eager shoppers, she found herself at the rack effortlessly. Picking up the nearest piece, she scrutinized it from every angle but found nothing remarkable. She grabbed another, inspected it, and again saw nothing special. Item after item, she sifted through the pile, but not a single one caught her eye. Cold sweat began to form on her brow.

This was precisely why she hated shopping—she had absolutely no talent for picking clothes for herself!

When it came to friends, classmates, or even her mother, she could offer suggestions without a hint of pressure. But as soon as it was her turn, for some inexplicable reason, she simply couldn’t imagine herself wearing any of these clothes. After buying clothes a few times and realizing none suited her, she developed a profound distrust of her own judgment. And after crossing over to this world and inhabiting an entirely unfamiliar body, her indecision only worsened. Now, whenever she shopped for herself, all the clothes seemed to blend together, indistinguishable from one another.

Fortunately, someone came to her rescue just in time.

“Hey, aren’t you the one who didn’t want to buy clothes or come in here?” Liang Yin asked, holding several bags of new purchases and watching her fumble by the bargain rack.

“I just came in to see if you all were done shopping,” she replied with a sheepish grin.

“Is that so?” Liang Yin glanced knowingly at the pile of clothes in her arms. At once, she tilted her arms downward, letting the clothes slide smoothly back onto the rack, where they were quickly snatched up by the crowd.

Clapping her now empty hands, she stuck close behind Liang Yin, unwilling to stray even half a step away. Liang Yin didn’t mind having another pair of hands to help carry things.

So, when she finally caught up with Huan Luo, she was once again laden with bags, trailing after Liang Yin like a walking coat rack.

“You’re here?” Huan Luo had clearly changed into new clothes—selected by Liang Yin herself—a red, short dress with a lacy shawl, black knee-high socks, and leather shoes. The outfit accentuated her lovely figure, and the warm red dispelled much of her usual chilly aura. Gone was the imposing female general; before them stood an adorable, demure young lady.

With a hand covering her nose, she stared in awe at Huan Luo’s rarely revealed thighs—such blatant temptation, she thought.

Irritated, Liang Yin yanked her back, breaking her unabashed gaze. Huan Luo visibly relaxed—this was her first time trying such an outfit, but it looked surprisingly good. Satisfied with her reflection, she thought the trip was well worth it.

If only it weren’t for those unpleasant stares nearby. Unlike the half-joking, half-admiring look from her friend, this gaze—coming from who knew where—made her skin crawl, and she longed to shake it off.

“We’ve been out long enough, let’s go,” Huan Luo said to Liang Yin, who was still scolding their companion, and the latter who was enduring it. She headed toward the exit, choosing the door where the unsettling gaze felt weakest.

But before she’d gone more than a few steps, a man blocked her path. Huan Luo glared coldly at the man whose very face was off-putting—beady eyes merging with his freckles, a flabby body, thinning hair, and a lecherous expression that made her skin crawl.

“It’s not even dark yet, don’t be in such a hurry to leave, beautiful,” he sneered, his words as oily and stale as his demeanor.

“Move,” Huan Luo said coldly, fixing the repulsive man with a steely stare. Her two companions quickly caught up, standing behind her, ready to leave together.

Seeing the rare beauty about to slip away, the lecherous man tried to grab Huan Luo’s hand. She didn’t hesitate—a quick block and a sharp counterstrike made him cry out in pain.

Hearing his cry, a group of men lurking in the crowd—his bodyguards—immediately surrounded them, blocking their escape. “Young master, are you alright?” the leader asked, a well-built man whose physique and presence suggested considerable skill, even in plain clothes.

“She—she hit me!” the lecher finally managed to stammer, the epitome of every useless, leering, would-be womanizer doomed to fail in every novel.

Clearly accustomed to such scenes, the bodyguard addressed Huan Luo calmly, “Miss—”

But before he could finish, the “young master” piped up from behind, his lust undimmed. “If this lady would join me for dinner, I’ll let bygones be bygones,” he declared, his eyes inevitably straying to Liang Yin. The sight of two beautiful women together delighted him. “If both ladies would join me, that would be even better!”

Sensing trouble, the third companion quietly warned Huan Luo, “You’re still injured, don’t overdo it in a fight.”

Huan Luo nodded to show she understood.

Relieved that her warning was heeded, the friend suddenly remembered something important and whispered, “Wait, there are three of us here—why did he only mention two?”

Liang Yin leaned over, mischief in her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s excluded you.”

“Excluded? That means…” Suddenly enlightened, she bared her teeth and claws. “Don’t hold back, Huan Luo—if things get messy, I’ll take responsibility!”