Approaching noon.
The chubby old man adjusted the boy's collar, wearing a smile as he gently smoothed the creases and said with a smile:
"Today should be a bit more formal."
He led Zhang Fusheng to the mirror, where Zhang Fusheng quietly examined his reflection.
Indeed, clothes make the man just as a saddle makes the horse.
In his basic appearance, the previously scholarly-looking self now appeared much more imposing dressed in the traditional black long robe.
Zhang Fusheng mimicked the pose of placing his hands behind his back, exuding a slight aura of a grandmaster or master.
The chubby old man fastened a cufflink at the wrist, looking Zhang Fusheng up and down with a beaming smile, expressing admiration three times—"Good, good, good!"
His praise was followed by a suddenly solemn expression:
"For this occasion, your senior uncle will surely interfere. He won't let things go smoothly for you and me."
Zhang Fusheng nodded silently and asked:
