Gwof and the others stayed in the capital of Clothes Country for a few more days.
The days passed like being soaked in warm water, flowing along unhurriedly.
Every morning, when he pushed open the wooden window of the inn carved with intertwining floral patterns, the first things that caught his eye were always the silk shop signs on the street—red like burning charcoal, green like rain-soaked leaves, and purple like ripe grapes.
When the wind blew, they would swirl, sifting the sunlight into fragments of gold that paved the bluestone road; walking on it, one felt as if the soles of their feet were stained with light.
Lettuce always loved to lean by the window, her elbows propped on the faded windowsill, watching the tailor shop across the street.
The weavers in the shop sat before bamboo embroidery frames, the gold and silver threads in their hands flying across the silk, sometimes tracing a budding peony, sometimes embroidering a butterfly flapping its wings, their fingers moving as nimbly as if performing a silent dance.
She often watched until she was dazed, her fingertips unconsciously tracing patterns on the windowsill as if she were embroidering a piece of silk of her own.
Lia, on the other hand, became obsessed with the open-air plays on the street corner.
The stage was made of wooden planks covered with a piece of faded red velvet; the actors, dressed in stiffly starched costumes, performed love stories of princesses and knights with great emotion.
Whenever it reached the part where the knight knelt on one knee to offer a rose, she would clench her fists and lean forward, her eyes wide and round, even forgetting to breathe.
After the show, she would pull Lettuce along, chattering away, saying the princess's dress in the play wasn't as beautiful as Lettuce's hair, making Lettuce blush, though she couldn't help but laugh along.
Little Bottle was the same as ever, struggling with his own hair.
In the morning when he left, he had a head of fluffy blonde hair resting softly on his forehead, which Lia teased made him look like a golden retriever puppy;
By noon, having somehow picked up some dust, he would secretly make his hair disappear, revealing a shiny bald head, and stroke his chin while saying, "It's more convenient for fighting this way";
By evening, perhaps feeling that a bald head was too conspicuous in the crowd, he would bring the blonde hair back, only this time it was even curlier, looking like he was wearing a ball of golden cotton candy, never tiring of the fuss.
Only Gwof felt as if he had an unripe fruit tucked in his heart, always preoccupied with something.
Every morning and evening, he would stroll toward the palace at a steady pace, his eyes scanning the passing crowds as if searching for a pearl dropped in the sand.
To put it bluntly, he was waiting for that legendary scene—the story of two reckless tailors who dared to boast to the King that they could make a new suit of clothes visible only to the wise, eventually tricking the King into parading through the streets naked, becoming the laughingstock of the city.
Gwof always felt that such a spectacle would be far more interesting than the King's bejeweled robes.
But as the days went by, the palace processions went out as usual, and the King changed his robes more frequently than one flips through pages of a book.
Today it was peacock-blue satin, covered with round pearls that shimmered with every step;
Tomorrow it would be a pomegranate-red gauze robe lined with moon-white silk and embroidered with phoenixes spreading their wings, looking like countless birds flying on the hem when the wind blew.
The tailor shops on the street were quite lively; the owners stood at their doors, boastfully telling passersby:
"See that? The cloud patterns on His Majesty's new robe were hand-embroidered by my own tailor!"
Yet not a single person mentioned "invisible clothes."
That evening, Gwof stood on the street corner again, watching the King's newly made black python robe, which was dazzlingly bright—the robe was embroidered with a golden python soaring through clouds, its eyes set with pigeon-blood rubies that glowed as red as dripping blood in the sunset.
As he watched, he finally gave a soft sigh, the corners of his mouth drooping slightly.
It seemed this story's time had not yet come.
"I'm not waiting anymore."
Gwof's voice was very soft, but it was like a small stone cast into a calm lake, sending ripples through the street corner where the noise was beginning to fade.
He turned his head toward Ben, who was approaching; sunlight filtered through the gaps in the silk shop signs, flickering across his face.
Ben was still clutching a newly bought candy, an exquisitely crafted Evil Dragon—its scales wrapped in gold foil, its wings dusted with fine sugar beads, and its horns curved just right; it was clearly the result of a confectioner's hard work.
However, the weather was a bit hot, and the frosting was melting into a sticky mess in his palm, causing even the corner of the Evil Dragon's tail to collapse and stick to his rough fingertip like a piece of molten gold.
He let out an "Ah," and quickly tried to wipe it with his sleeve, but ended up spreading the sugar stain even more evenly, looking exactly as if he had just dipped his hand into a honey jar.
"Not waiting anymore?" Ben's voice was a bit muffled, probably not having fully processed the words.
Gwof couldn't help but curl his lips.
Over the past few days, in order to wait for that legendary "farce," everyone had followed his suggestion and spent their time playing in the capital instead of traveling.
They had visited almost every street in the capital—from Embroiderer's Alley in the east to the Satin Workshop in the west, from The Statue in front of the palace to the drainage ditches at the end of the alleys; the soles of their feet were burning, and even the soles of their old boots had worn thin.
Standing on the street corner now, as the evening breeze blew, a faint ache came from his ankles; he truly felt tired, like a bowstring that had been pulled for too long and just wanted to slowly relax.
Moreover, he was now constantly wondering if Big Brother Wolf, Groot, and the others were currently leaning over the lookout tower in the forest, watching for them with eager eyes.
What worried him even more was what that kingdom where Fox Aji lived would look like now.
Could the kingdom have truly turned into a "modern society"?
Would the houses be stacked higher than trees, just like in his past life?
Would there be square boxes called "televisions" that, once turned on, showed scenery from elsewhere, allowing one to watch the excitement of the King's processions while lying at home?
And as for those things called "computers," would Fox Aji be leaning in front of a screen, using his paws to tap the keys, checking when he would be able to return?
He could even imagine the scene: Groot squatting in front of the television, watching with a grin;
Fox Aji holding a computer, his tail curled in a circle, staring at the jumping characters on the screen and occasionally rubbing the mouse with his nose, causing the cursor on the screen to wobble;
The cubs screaming around the glowing screen, thinking it was a firefly they couldn't catch.
These thoughts were like little scratching claws, making his heart feel both warm and anxious.
The warmth came from the fact that no matter what the kingdom became, there was always a group of fellows waiting for him;
The anxiety came from the fear that if he returned too late, even Fox Aji would understand those new gadgets better than him, and he'd be teased for being "behind the times."
Even so, he wasn't in a hurry to set off.
His gaze swept over the silk shop at the corner with the "Jinxiu Workshop" plaque; the door curtain was lifted by the wind, revealing a dazzling array of fabrics inside, like a flowing rainbow.
He turned and walked over there, his steps a bit lighter, and waved his hand to call out to Lia and Lettuce not far away.
"Come on, let's get some fabric for new clothes."
"New clothes?"
Lia's ears were as sharp as a rabbit's, and she was the first to jump up.
She was wearing a small goose-yellow dress with some cake crumbs on the hem; as she bounced, she looked like a little butterfly blown by the wind, the ribbons at the ends of her hair flying along.
"I want pink! With little rabbits embroidered on it!"
She ran to Gwof's side and looked up, her eyes as bright as blue gems soaked in water.
"I want three! One with its head down eating grass and its ears drooping; one jumping up with its front paws off the ground; and one... and one grinning with a smiley face!"
As she spoke, she grinned first, revealing two sharp little canine teeth, looking exactly like that "smiley-faced rabbit."
Lettuce also walked over, her fingers uneasily twisting the hem of her skirt—it was still the light green coarse cloth dress she had worn when they arrived, now a bit faded from washing.
Her cheeks were rosy like sun-kissed apples, and her voice was as quiet as a mosquito's hum.
"I... I'd like a light blue one, like the sky just after it's cleared, very pale. No need for embroidered patterns, something simple would be fine."
As she spoke, she stole a glance at Gwof; seeing that he wasn't laughing at her, she quickly lowered her head again, her earlobes turning red enough to bleed.
Little Bottle was the last to catch up; he had just changed his hair back to a dark gray short cut, probably feeling that the blonde was too eye-catching.
Walking to the coarse cloth shelf at the entrance of the silk shop, he reached out and touched a bolt of dark gray canvas; the material was thick and the stitching dense, feeling a bit prickly but possessing a sturdy quality.
"Get me something durable,"
He became uncharacteristically serious, his brow slightly furrowed as if he were studying something important.
"Dark gray is best; it won't be obvious when it scrapes against rocks during a fight, and you won't be able to tell if it's dirty."
After finishing, he didn't forget to add, "The sleeves should be shorter, otherwise they'll get in the way when I'm throwing punches."
Gwof looked at them, the fatigue on his face fading significantly, and a gentle curve appeared on his lips, like a lake surface warmed by moonlight.
"Alright," he agreed with a smile, his voice carrying a hint of indulgence. "Whatever you all want."
...A cool breeze lifted the door curtain of the silk shop, bringing with it a faint scent of starch as the shop assistant inside called out to attract customers.
Gwof took the lead over the threshold, followed by a skipping Lia, a blushing Lettuce, Little Bottle who was seriously studying the fabrics, and Ben, who was still looking down and licking the syrup off his fingers.
Sunlight filtered through the carved window lattices and fell upon them, stretching their shadows long, like a string of candied haws, sweet and carrying a slow, steady sense of peace.
The clothes in Clothes Country were truly beautiful, and the fabrics were incredibly fine—some were as smooth as mountain streams, slipping through one's fingertips at a single touch.
Some were as soft as clouds in the sky, feeling like being embraced by sunlight when wrapped around the body.
The colors were as vivid as freshly picked fruit—the reds were brilliant, and the greens were tender; it would be a real pity not to buy some.
He also wanted to make a new coat for himself, preferably pure black, made of coarse cloth, and resistant to dirt.
In fact, he wasn't in a hurry to leave for another, more important reason: Ben's cloak.
That cloak was hanging at the foot of the bed in the inn; it was dusty and looked no different from a rag picked up by the roadside, with several patches on the edges and crooked stitches, as if it had been sewn on haphazardly.
But Gwof had seen its power—a few days ago, wanting to see the Silver Waterfall outside the city, Ben had wrapped the cloak around his shoulders and grabbed Gwof's arm with his rough, large hand. With a 'whoosh,' the sound of wind exploded in his ears, like countless birds flying past. Gwof instinctively closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was already standing on the rocks at the top of the waterfall.
Cool droplets of water splashed on his face, carrying the fresh scent of plants and trees. Looking down, he could see the white water falling like a curtain beneath his feet. It was more than ten times faster than riding a horse, saving even the dust kicked up by hooves.
"With this cloak, you can go anywhere you want."
Ben had said at the time, thumping his chest, the pride on his face impossible to hide.
"Just think of the place, close your eyes and count to three, and I guarantee you'll arrive. Last time, I even used it to escape a bear in the forest!"
So Gwof wasn't worried at all.
Even if they suddenly wanted to return to the Animal Kingdom now, as long as Ben was willing, he could just shake that ragged cloak, close his eyes and count to three, and they would see their familiar kingdom upon opening them.
Since that was the case, it was better to stay in Clothes Country for a couple more days and let everyone change into new clothes; it would make the trip worthwhile.
The owner of the silk shop was a short, plump middle-aged man. Seeing the group enter, his eyes crinkled into slits from smiling.
He hurriedly and busily laid out all the best fabrics. The silks spread across the counter like a rainbow unfolding.
"The guest has excellent taste!" he said in a booming voice, with a hint of a fawning smile.
"Look at this bolt of Cloud Brocade, just arrived from the East. The cloud patterns on it are woven with real gold thread. It makes the most grand coat; wearing it, you'll look more spirited than the King's guards! And this bolt of aqua-green gauze is as light and thin as mist. If you make a dress for the young lady, she'll look like a fairy descending to earth when the wind blows!"
Gwof didn't speak, but simply jerked his chin toward Lettuce and Lia, letting them choose for themselves.
His fingers brushed over bolt after bolt of fabric—some were cool to the touch, some were fluffy—and finally stopped on a bolt of black coarse cloth. This fabric looked ordinary, but it felt very thick and sturdy, with dense stitching. It was a bit scratchy against his hand, but it felt reliable.
"One of this, in my size."
Gwof tapped his finger on the pure black coarse cloth and looked up at the owner.
His voice was as steady as the stone-paved road beneath their feet that had been trodden for thousands of years, without a single ripple, yet carrying a type of unquestionable certainty.
The owner hurriedly complied and picked up a wooden ruler to take measurements, but Ben rushed forward impatiently, holding his coin purse high.
"I'll pay, I'll pay! I brought gold coins today!"
He was probably afraid Gwof and the others were short on money. After all, the fabrics in this silk shop were not cheap; the pink satin Lia had just picked, with its gold thread embroidery alone, would cost a normal family half a month's worth of living expenses.
Gwof didn't argue with him, but simply waved his hand slightly, as if brushing away something invisible.
The owner was looking down for scissors when he caught Gwof's movement out of the corner of his eye. His vision blurred for a moment—the palm that had been empty just now suddenly held a carved gold cup. Steam curled from the rim, and it was filled with creamy milk tea. The sweet fragrance mixed with the scent of tea wafted over, making one's throat twitch.
Before the owner could react, Gwof had already tilted his head back and finished the milk tea in a few gulps. As his Adam's apple moved, the intertwining branch pattern on the gold cup shimmered under the light.
He placed the empty cup on the counter, the bottom hitting the wood with a crisp 'thud.'
"This will be the payment."
Ben's eyes went wide as he watched from the side, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg.
He knew Gwof knew a bit of Candy Magic—last time in the forest, the guy could conjure candy at will—but he never expected the magic could be used like this!
Trading a gold cup for a set of clothes was much more useful than his one gold coin a day. No wonder Gwof wasn't worried at all earlier; he had this kind of 'hard currency' in his pocket.
The owner stared at the gold cup, his eyes bulging like copper bells.
The patterns on the cup were hand-engraved, and the edges were even inlaid with two emeralds the size of rice grains; it was clearly no ordinary item.
He reached out to touch it, and the cold sensation from his fingertips told him it was definitely not an illusion.
But this gold cup appearing out of thin air was simply too eerie. He could only assume his eyes had played tricks on him, so he hurriedly pushed the cup further onto the counter, his face squeezing into a smile even more enthusiastic than before: "The guest is too kind! Rest assured about this fabric, it's guaranteed to be durable!"
Gwof didn't mind the owner's awkwardness. His gaze swept over the fabrics on the shelves, already calculating what he should bring for his old friends in the forest.
Since he had so much 'money,' he naturally couldn't treat them poorly.
Thinking this, he simply said to the owner, "In addition to what we want, buy up all the remaining clothes and fabrics you have in stock."
The owner's face almost froze from smiling. He hurriedly directed the shop assistants to pack everything up, while wondering to himself: Could this group of guests be scions of some noble family playing some new kind of trick?
While busy, Gwof noticed Little Bottle standing before a shelf nearby, his finger unconsciously tracing a fabric with fine checks as he dazed off.
That fabric had a dark gray base with light gray checks. It was as thick as a small shield and felt rough to the touch, yet it exuded a sense of sturdiness.
Little Bottle's fingertips traced back and forth over the checks, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. He probably felt the fabric wasn't 'grand' enough, yet he couldn't bear to let go of its wear-resistant practicality.
Gwof jerked his chin toward him and said to the owner, "Give him one of those too, in his size. Cut the sleeves shorter, and use the most durable construction."
Little Bottle turned his head sharply, the tips of his ears turning slightly red. He wanted to say it wasn't necessary, but looking at the checkered fabric, his lips moved, and he ultimately swallowed his words. He just looked down and picked at a loose thread on the fabric with his finger, though the corners of his mouth secretly curled upward.
Ben watched from the side, clicking his tongue in amazement. He leaned into Gwof's ear and whispered, "This magic of yours... can it conjure an Evil Dragon candy? The one from before melted, and I didn't even get to taste it properly."
Gwof glanced at him. At first, he couldn't, of course, but after seeing the Evil Dragon candy Ben had made, he was able to conjure it.
So he reached into the air, and when he opened his hand again, a golden Evil Dragon candy lay in his palm, with a piece of rock candy stuck to its horn.
"Take it," he stuffed the candy to Ben, "don't get it on the fabric, or you'll be the one washing it."
Ben hurriedly popped the candy into his mouth.
Sunlight filtered through the window lattices and fell on the mountain of fabrics—gold, silver, black, and purple—weaving a patch of warm light in the air.
Gwof leaned against the counter, watching the assistants busy packing. He suddenly felt that this trip to Clothes Country had been worth the wait after all.
Lia was spinning around while holding a bolt of pink satin. The satin was embroidered with intertwining roses, and as she spun, it looked like a flower in full bloom. She clamored,
"We also need to get a piece for Lettuce! Darker than sky blue, but lighter than sea blue, the kind that can reflect the luster of her hair!"
Lettuce hurriedly waved her hands, but her face turned red all the way to her ears.
Sunlight filtered through the carved window lattices of the silk shop, casting dappled light on the fabrics like a handful of scattered diamonds.
Lia laughed while holding the satin, while Lettuce and the shopkeeper quietly discussed what kind of embroidered patterns would suit the light blue fabric.
Ben squatted in a corner, holding up two different pieces of leather, studying with Little Bottle which one was more suitable for making bracers—"This deerskin is soft and prevents chafing."
"No, I want the oxhide. It's more durable."
Gwof leaned against the counter, watching the lively scene before him. His fingertips unconsciously tapped on the counter, making soft 'thud-thud' sounds.