‘You are not the boss of me,’ I say, then meekly raise my arms.
Gigi sweeps off the first dress then shimmies the second over my arms and head. It falls in a cool cascade over my skin. The bodice is held up by the finest of straps and exposes my collarbone and shoulders. The dress skims my body and waterfalls to my feet.
Gigi purses her lips. Grabs another dress. ‘Try this one.’
‘They’re all pretty, Gigi. I’ll just wear this one. I like green.’
‘The Paramount is THE place to see and be seen in Shanghai. We are Celestials, Jing. Whether you like it or not, you are Lady Jing of Mount Kunlun, descended from Queen Mother of the West herself. No one can take away your ancestry. We will shine like the stars we are. Now try this one.’ She shoves the dress at me.
I eye the dresses still remaining on the sofa. There are so many.Tian, just looking at them makes me anxious. I picture Soo and her lot spitting at me, tearing at my ribbons, laughing at the mongrel who dared to dress as an equal. I clench my fists. ‘This is fine,’ I repeat.
Gigi studies me. ‘Do you know that feeling you get when a hair pin feels right with a particular dress?’
‘I only have two hair pins, and they go with most of my dresses.’
She taps her foot. ‘How about, when you pull the right card in kanhoo.’
That I understand. ‘I get a little thrill,’ I admit.
Gigi bounces on her toes. ‘Yes! The right dress on the right person gives me that same feeling. A thrill. While you are stunning in this dress, it isnotthe right one. Trust me on this.’
I grunt, but allow Gigi to pull the dress over my head and put yet another one over my compliant arms. We end up trying on, and discarding, three more rotted dresses. They are all beautiful, and I’d happily wear any one of them. But for some reason, none of them satisfy her.
She holds one up that clearly is meant to show off my cleavage. ‘Not that one.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s too low-cut.’
She makes a face. ‘I don’t understand your hang-up about breasts.’ She cranes her neck, making a show of checking out my chest. I cross my arms over them. ‘They look perfectly fine. Why not show them off?’
‘I don’t want to, okay?’
‘You’re happy to run around in your underthings, show your ass whenever you feel like, and yet you won’t show a little cleavage. Jing, you know that makes no sense.’
‘It’s not that. I don’t have a problem withmyta-tas.’
‘Then what is it? For Tian’s sake—’
‘All those bitches prance around with their ta-tas bursting out of their dresses,’ I grumble.
Gigi jerks back, like I’ve slapped her. ‘Well, if that’s how you feel,’ she says, her face suddenly blotchy. She starts gathering the dresses strewn over the sofa.
I curl in on myself. She’s trying so hard. I think back to the rules from the book I bought the other day about winning friends. Acknowledging my mistakes was one of them. I have no idea if the rules work, but surely they are worth a try. Anything’s better than my own clumsy efforts.
‘Gigi, I don’t mean you.’
She pauses, back to me. I exhale. ‘When I was little, I lived in the Hulijing Court. You know how they like to dress – everything on display in those low-cut translucent robes. The only memories I have of my time there are of Soo and her friends. Their faces all blur together but I remember very clearly their shrieking laughter, their smell, and their gleaming breasts as they held me down in the bathtub and scrubbed me with floor brushes until I bled. They said it was to clean me of my foreign stink.’
My voice trails away. I’ve never spoken about that before and am surprised by the tear trickling down my cheek. I wipe it away.
Gigi doesn’t move for a long time. Finally, she puts down the dresses in her arms, and picks up the gauzy one with the flowers. She turns to me, her eyes bright.
‘I never considered you the floral type,’ she says, tone brisk and no-nonsense. She holds up the dress against me and eyes me critically. ‘Something made me grab this dress. Maybe I have a touch of dragon sight. Wouldn’t Lord Black be surprised? Now arms up, ugly.’
The unexpected insult makes me laugh. I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better. Back on even ground. I do as she asks, and the dress falls over my head in a cloud of blossoms.
I turn to look at myself in the bedroom door mirror. The dress is stunning, no doubt. Pale pink and blush plum blossoms drape over one shoulder, tumble and scatter across the dress. The other shoulder is bare – bare of blossoms, bare of fabric, showing off a smooth expanse of skin from neck to armpit, but no cleavage, just the line of my collar bone leading into that dip in my shoulder. I stare at myself. I’m me, but there’s something about the dress that makes me feel taller. More... noticeable? I can’t put my finger on it, but I do like it.
