Damn her. She’s a good kanhoo player for a reason. Observant and prescient. I touch my hair despite myself. ‘Y-you can do that?’
‘Are you going to make me stand in the corridor all afternoon?’
‘Oh, right.’ I step back and she sweeps into my room, her gleaming bosom leading the way.
She lays out slinky silks and delicate frothy fabric across the back of the sofa. There are eight or nine dresses here. One is a creamy gauzy thing, with blush-coloured plum blossoms that look like they are budding from the fabric itself. I run my fingers along the petals – they are satin-smooth, and I marvel that they aren’t actually real.
‘These are the dresses I think would suit you best. But you should try them on first, see what you prefer.’
‘Hells, Gigi, did you bring your entire wardrobe?’
She looks affronted. ‘Of course not, I only brought four suitcases! I had to send two suitcases home since Fisherman Lo refused to let me take them all.’
Four? I only brought one. And my suitcase was half-empty. I think of the two qipao hanging in the hotel wardrobe – the green one, which I wore yesterday, and my favourite yellow one with the embroidered swallows. I had planned to wear that tonight, but the dresses Gigi brought make my fanciest dress suddenly feel plain. And that makes me angry. It’s how all those rotted deities make me feel when they swan around at Council.
I lift my chin. ‘I have a dress. I don’t need these.’
She gives me a critical look. Picks up a vivid blue silk number. ‘Try this on.’
‘I have my own clothes, Gigi. I’m not a charity case.’
‘I know you have your own clothes. But come on, we’re in yang Shanghai!Please Jing. I haven’t been to a ballroom in ages. And I heard that snake Xiao Qing has been hanging around Ah Lang lately. She’s always talking about how much fun she has at the Paramount. I can’t let her overshadow us. We are going to surpass them all.’
‘I—’
She pulls a metal contraption from inside her water sleeve. It looks like some kind of barbarian prod.
I back away from her. ‘What is that?’
‘This is a curling rod. It’s to marcelle your hair.’
‘That looks like an implement of torture.’
Gigi beams. ‘I’ll do your hair and mine.’ She strokes the fine blue silk of the dress. ‘I brought a whole box full of hair pins to match the dresses. They’ll look wonderful with your waves.’
Rotted Gigi; she knows my weaknesses.
‘Go on,’ she coos, pushing the dress into my unprotesting hands.
‘What, here?’
‘Don’t pretend you’re shy about undressing. I know you better than that.’
Defeated well and truly, I let Gigi help me into the dress. The bodice is form fitting, accentuating my curves, and pinching in at the waist. The skirt, however, is a revelation. The fabric hugs my hips, but as it falls, it flares outwards. I squat with my knees wide apart, stand and kick my legs forward and back. The sapphire silk slips over me and gives full freedom of movement.
‘What in Tian are you doing?’ Gigi watches me, mouth open.
‘This is amazing – I can move however I wish. None of that ridiculous constraint from qipao.’
She gives me a smug smile. ‘I never could understand why you wear those dresses. I always feel like I’m suffocating.’
I suck my teeth. ‘Only because they cover your ta-tas.’
She ignores my jibe and plucks another confection from the back of the sofa. ‘Try this one.’
It’s also a silk affair, this one emerald green.
‘Arms up,’ she orders.
