The entire second floor was the ready-made clothing section, with men's, women's, and children's apparel all displayed here. Compared to the rural supply and marketing cooperatives, the city's clothing styles and colors were far richer.
Still, the dominant colors were blue, black, gray, and military green. The overall style remained simple and practical.
The second floor wasn't particularly crowded. Busy sales clerks served customers, while the idle ones leaned lazily against counters or chatted casually with acquaintances.
Lin Ruo glanced around and walked toward a counter that caught her eye.
The sales clerk was in the middle of packing clothes for another customer. At the sight of Lin Ruo's shabby, patched clothes and worn-out shoes, she showed no interest in serving her and even rolled her eyes in disdain, silently labeling her a "country bumpkin" and a "pauper."
Seeing Lin Ruo waiting at her counter, the salesperson—who prided herself on judging people by appearances—looked her up and down with contempt.
"Hello, comrade, could you please get me that white shirt and gray jacket?" Lin Ruo asked politely.
The clerk handed the wrapped clothes to the previous customer, then slowly turned her gaze on Lin Ruo, scrutinizing her patched clothes and thin frame. Her shoes were worn through, her clothes mended upon mends, and her body looked frail and malnourished—like a starving villager.
This one probably can't afford two pieces of clothing even if she saved for a year, the clerk thought smugly.
Folding her arms, chin raised, she sneered: "You want to look at those? Do you think you can afford them? White clothes, really? Are your hands even clean? If you stain them, can you pay for it?"
Lin Ruo's face hardened. She knew salesclerks in these times were arrogant, but being mocked so blatantly still made her furious.
"If I hadn't met you, I wouldn't care. But pointing at me and ridiculing me? I won't let it slide. Today I'll teach you what proper service looks like."
Her voice rang out cold and clear: "How can you know whether clothes fit if you don't let customers touch them? Your job is to serve, not to humiliate. I'm the customer. I asked to see the clothes, so you're obliged to show them to me."
The saleswoman snorted and rolled her eyes. "If you're not buying, you don't get to touch them. A poor bumpkin like you dares shop here? How ridiculous. Don't stink up our clothes with your country smell."
She leaned back, fanned her nose with her hand, and tutted disdainfully. "It reeks. Go away, don't pollute our things."
The nearby customers turned their heads, whispering among themselves, curious about the commotion.
Lin Ruo's eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward, slapping the counter sharply. Word by word, she said:
"If I remember correctly, this department store is government-owned. Government stores serve the people—all the people. Are you saying the government divides customers into classes, that country folk like me are unworthy to enter? Are you creating class antagonism in a state-owned shop?"
Her words were sharp, icy, and carried authority.
The salesperson, caught off guard, faltered. Her face paled and she dared not meet Lin Ruo's gaze. Still, she reminded herself that her brother-in-law was the store manager. He wouldn't ignore her—her family would pressure him to shield her. She forced herself to stand straighter, clinging to that thought.
Just then, Han Yao arrived at the scene, his tall figure in uniform cutting through the crowd. "What's going on here?" he demanded.
The clerk's eyes lit up instantly at the sight of Han Yao. Tall, fair-skinned, dressed in uniform, his presence radiated authority. He must be an officer, she thought.
If she could marry such a man, she'd live comfortably in the military compound. His salary would keep her secure, and she could even profit by reselling her position as his wife's servant.
Her earlier panic faded, replaced by shyness and hope.
But Han Yao ignored her completely. He turned to Lin Ruo instead, his voice low and apologetic. "Wife, this is my fault. I should have come with you. If I had, no one would have dared to look down on you."
"Wife?"
The saleswoman's eyes nearly popped out of her head. The shabby girl she had ridiculed—this poor "country bumpkin"—was actually the wife of the handsome officer standing before her?
Han Yao's face darkened. He turned to the clerk and snapped, "Call your manager!"
The saleswoman panicked, her fantasies shattering. She stammered, "Comrade, is it necessary to call the manager? I've already brought out the clothes you wanted…"
But Lin Ruo's voice cut in like ice. "If your manager doesn't come, I'll report this store to the Gewei Association for promoting class antagonism. Let's see how long you last then."
At her words, Manager Wang came rushing down from upstairs, panting heavily. "Comrades, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Let's talk this through," he pleaded. The mention of the Gewei Association had terrified him—if they were accused of class discrimination, it could ruin his career.
The clerk's face turned ashen, her earlier arrogance gone. She dared not even look at Lin Ruo now.
Standing proudly beside Han Yao, Lin Ruo's calm, sharp words lingered in the air. Around them, customers who had gathered to watch looked at her with new respect.
What had started as humiliation had turned into Lin Ruo's quiet victory.