They were eating heartily.
Lettuce sipped her Cloud Pudding in small mouthfuls, the sound of Ben gnawing on a meat skewer was like a small beast grinding its teeth, Little Bottle and Ugly Duckling were still buried in a struggle with their porridge bowls, and Gwof had just scooped up a piece of cheese cake with his spoon.
The Waiter in the blue cloth shirt walked over with a smile.
The spoon apron around his waist swayed, and a rag embroidered with a carrot pattern was draped over his hand; he was as warm and welcoming as freshly sun-dried cotton.
"Is the food to everyone's liking?"
Ben's mouth was stuffed full as he nodded indistinctly, "Mhm! Looks good!"
Although the taste was average, he couldn't resist the pleasing appearance and took another bite of the meat skewer.
The Waiter's eyes crinkled into slits as his gaze circled the group, asking tentatively,
"You all look quite unfamiliar; you must be outsiders?"
"Yes, we are Travelers, just passing through."
Ben quickly swallowed the meat in his mouth and patted his chest in response, his posture as if he were showing off his status as a 'Traveler.'
The Waiter immediately put on an exaggerated expression of admiration, gesturing with his hands in front of his chest.
"Oh my, that's incredible! Travelers are just like the heroes in stories, traveling far and wide with vast knowledge—much better than those of us who stay in one place!"
These words made Ben beam with joy, and even Lia couldn't help but lean in, wanting to hear what else he had to say.
The Waiter's tone shifted, a hint of local pride appearing on his face as he straightened his back.
"Since you are Travelers with vast knowledge, you must be very interested in the customs of our Clothes Country, right?"
"Yes, exactly!"
Ben nodded repeatedly; he had long been curious about the silk city walls and the flower-clad Soldiers all over the city.
"Quick, tell us about it!"
"Of course, everyone."
The Waiter bowed slightly, his tone becoming even more enthusiastic.
His polished leather shoes turned at a nimble angle on the floor, and his gaze, like a bronze mirror polished repeatedly by silk, swept unhurriedly over everyone at the table, the admiration in his eyes almost overflowing—
Looking at Gwof, though he didn't speak, he possessed an air that commanded respect, as if he were born to be gazed upon like this.
Looking at Lettuce, although her fingers were nervously twisting her skirt and her shoulders were slightly hunched with the awkwardness of a newcomer,
but her eyes were as bright as glazed glass dipped in water, so clear they reflected the surrounding light and shadows, and so pure one couldn't bear to look away.
Looking at Lia, her eyes were wide and round like two curious stars, the corners of her mouth curled high, her face practically screaming 'Tell us, tell us!' She was as vivid as a freshly ripened fruit on a branch, exuding an endearing liveliness.
And then there was Ben, who was talking to him; his shirt collar was neatly fastened, the lines of his Adam's apple were sharp when he swallowed, and even the arch of his eyebrows when he spoke was just right. He was clearly handsome but without a hint of flashiness, like a meticulously framed sketch—very pleasing to the eye.
With these few standing there, even the air seemed to become more refined, so it was no wonder the Waiter grew more enthusiastic as he spoke—anyone seeing such a pleasing group of people wouldn't be able to resist chatting a bit more, as if by doing so, even the flour stains on their own cuffs might fade a little.
But when his gaze swept over Little Bottle, that bit of admiration flickered like a candle in the wind and suddenly dimmed, so quickly it felt like an illusion.
Little Bottle was seen with his head down, struggling with the porridge in his bowl, his spoon moving rapidly. Porridge dripped from the corner of his mouth, a translucent grain of rice hung from his chin, and a bit of creamy yellow porridge foam clung to the tip of his nose. He looked just like a little wild cat that had just finished stealing milk—where was the dignity in that?
A flash of disdain crossed the Waiter's eyes, like seeing an uncleaned mud stain on a luxurious carpet, but that emotion only lingered for half a second before being covered by an even warmer smile, and he even raised the pitch of his voice:
"You all clearly look like graceful gentlemen and dignified ladies,"
he complimented them first before clearing his throat and pointing a finger toward the main street outside the window, which was gradually becoming lively.
"In our Clothes Country, we value 'Sartorial Etiquette' above all else, and the paragon of this 'Sartorial Etiquette' is our King."
He spoke with great animation, gesturing in the air, his silver cufflinks flashing along with his movements.
"His Majesty the King wears his most magnificent clothes every morning and evening and takes a walk around the capital's main streets.
And guess what?
The gold thread embroidered on those clothes could blind you in the sunlight, the gems adorned on them are brighter than the stars in the sky, and most impressive of all is the hem, which is so long it sweeps across half the street as it drags along!
I caught a glimpse from afar last time—good heavens, there were over a hundred phoenix tail feathers embroidered on it alone, each with different colored threads. When the wind blows, they look like they've come to life!"
"His Majesty takes this walk for no other reason than to let everyone see 'beauty' and share in the joy,"
the Waiter clapped his hands, his voice rising a bit.
"Think about it, who wouldn't feel their heart brighten up seeing such dignified clothing every day? Who wouldn't be happy?
By my count, in another fifteen minutes, it will be time for the King's evening procession.
If you're interested, just stand on the street in a while, and you're guaranteed to see him!
I guarantee you've never seen such magnificent attire in your life. The aura, the spectacle—it's sure to give you a shock!"
Ben's eyes went wide as he listened, and he rubbed his hands together with a laugh.
"Great! Great! We'll definitely go take a look in a bit!"
He was already starting to imagine what those 'blinding' gold threads and gems looked like; perhaps they were more beautiful than any treasure he had ever seen.
Lia pulled on Lettuce's hand and whispered,
"Shall we go see? It must be even more beautiful than the stained glass in a church!"
Lettuce nodded, feeling both nervous and expectant—she had hardly seen many ordinary clothes, let alone the King's 'magnificent attire.' What would it look like?
Gwof put down his spoon and looked out the window at the lights gradually turning on; the lampshades were made of colored cloth, casting a kaleidoscopic glow.
Outside, the sky grew darker, but the number of pedestrians on the street increased. Faint music could be heard in the distance, as if warming up for the King's procession.
A spectacle centered around 'clothes' seemed about to begin.