The 4:00 AM air of 1995 was a damp, grey fog that clung to the throat. Li Hua moved through the quiet apartment like a ghost. She had barely slept, her mind racing with the "Stitch Mastery" diagrams the System had burned into her brain.
Under the loose floorboard, she had taken only two of the old "Blue Note" ten-yuan bills. She didn't want to alert Auntie Mei by flashing too much cash at once. Twenty yuan, plus her ten-yuan reward, gave her thirty yuan—a small fortune in the local morning market.
As she stepped out of the apartment building, she noticed the -2kg weight loss again. Her steps were lighter, and she no longer felt the agonizing chafing of her inner thighs as she walked.
[Ding! Current Weight: 93kg. Goal: 55kg. Keep going, Host!]
The Morning Market was a riot of sound and smell. Stalls were lit by dim yellow bulbs and kerosene lamps. Farmers shouted the prices of bok choy, and the smell of sizzling jianbing (crepes) mixed with the metallic scent of raw meat.
Li Hua bypassed the food stalls. Her goal was the "Fabric Corner" at the far end of the market, where wholesalers from the southern provinces dumped their surplus stock.
[System Skill: 'Fabric Analysis' Active. Looking for: High-density Cotton-Poly blend.]
She moved through the stalls, her eyes scanning the bolts of cloth. Most were the standard "Communist Blue" or "Ant Grey" fabrics—stiff, itchy, and shapeless. Then, her gaze locked onto a pile of discarded scraps in the corner of a stall run by a man with a thick southern accent.
It was a deep, midnight-blue fabric with a subtle sheen. In 1995, most people would see it as "too dark" or "weirdly stretchy," but Li Hua saw a revolution.
"How much for this 'junk'?" Li Hua asked, her hand brushing the fabric.
[Ding! Item: Lycra-infused Cotton Blend. Market Value in 1995: Low. Potential Value: High. Suggestion: Buy it all!]
The vendor looked at the oversized girl and chuckled, flicking ash from his cigarette. "That? It's a factory mistake from Guangzhou. It's too stretchy to hold a crease. Five yuan for the whole bolt just to get it out of my sight."
Li Hua didn't haggle. She handed over the five yuan, her heart racing. With this fabric, she wouldn't make the boxy, unflattering clothes everyone else wore. She was going to make the first "Slimming A-Line Skirt" this town had ever seen.
She spent another ten yuan on high-quality silk thread and a set of sharp, German-engineered needles. By the time she finished her "shopping," her arms were heavy with supplies, but her spirit was soaring.
She returned home just as the sun began to peek over the smog-heavy horizon. Auntie Mei and Lulu were still asleep, blissfully unaware that the "fat pig" was preparing to disrupt their world.
Li Hua locked herself in her room and sat at her mother's Singer sewing machine. The "Stitch Mastery" skill took over. Her fingers, which used to feel like thick sausages, suddenly moved with the grace of a concert pianist.
Whirr. Whirr. Whirr.
She didn't use a pattern. She used her own body as the template, but she adjusted the measurements for the "90kg version" of herself. She designed a high-waisted, structured skirt that used the stretch of the fabric to pull in the waist and flare out at the hips—a design that wouldn't reach this small town for another decade.
As the needle flew, she added a tiny, hidden detail: a delicate, hand-embroidered phoenix on the inner hem, a signature from her mother's ledger.
[Ding! 'Modern Garment' Created! Quality: Masterpiece. Effect: Visual Weight Loss -5kg when worn.]
Li Hua held up the garment. It was beautiful. It was sharp. It was professional. She stripped off her sweat-stained rags and stepped into the skirt.
She looked in the cracked vanity mirror. The girl looking back still had a long way to go, but the skirt transformed her. It gave her a waist. It gave her a silhouette. It gave her the "Aura" she needed to face the world.
"Today, I'm not just a fat girl," she whispered, her reflection's eyes glowing with ambition. "I'm a brand."
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from the living room. "Li Hua! Get out here! The scrap collector is here for that machine!"