Chapter 183

In the Hu family villa’s living room, the five members of the family once again gathered in front of the television. This time, however, it wasn’t to support one of Wei Sheng’s shows, but to watch Hu Qianqian’s interview.

Sitting on the couch, Hu Qianqian didn’t know where to put her hands. Her mind was still in a fog, as if she were floating in the clouds. She couldn’t believe it—how could someone like her, who hadn’t even gone to college, end up on national television?

And the person interviewing her was one of her favorite poised and intellectual female hosts.

Grandpa Hu sat alone on a redwood armchair, glancing around the room. On his left was his beloved grandson, who had already appeared on national TV multiple times. On his right sat his treasured daughter and lawyer son-in-law, both of whom had also been on national TV.

Thinking about it now, only he and his wife had never been on national television. The more he thought about it, the more dissatisfied he felt. Tsk—if he’d known earlier, he wouldn’t have settled into retirement so soon. It was all because of that damn demolition! They were given so many apartments in one go, who would still have the motivation to work?

“It’s starting!” Wei Sheng shouted excitedly, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume.

The elegant and composed host stood up with a warm smile, reaching out to shake hands with Hu Qianqian and the others one by one.

“Pfft—Mom, why are you moving your hands and feet at the same time?” Wei Sheng burst out laughing when he saw his mother so nervous that she didn’t know what to do with her limbs.

He immediately got smacked by her.

The host had clearly done her homework. Right at the start, she replayed the viral clip that first brought Hu Qianqian into the spotlight—her wearing a full set of silver jewelry.

“We all know that your son is now a household name across the country. So, when you started making short videos online, was it because you wanted to have more in common with him?”

What a question! Wei Sheng’s smile vanished instantly.

Some reporters these days really had something wrong with their heads. Whenever they saw a successful woman, they’d ask when she was getting married. If she was already married, they’d ask when she was having kids. And if she had kids, even better—they’d definitely ask how she balanced family and career.

What, are women only allowed to live for others their whole lives? Can’t they just focus on making money or building a career for themselves?

How could his mom like this kind of host? Intellectual? More like intellectually bankrupt!

But in the very next second, Wei Sheng was proven wrong.

Turns out, the host was using a classic rhetorical technique—start with a seemingly shallow question to set up a deeper message. She quoted lines from those ridiculous “traditional virtue” classes for women to provoke the audience, just so she could highlight the resilience and determination of her guest.

Sure enough, after that question, Hu Qianqian shook her head and said, “I raised my son on my own. Why would I need to force a common topic just to connect with him? I started this social media account, and now my clothing design business, not because I had some grand ambition. I just wanted to do something for myself.”

“For yourself?”

“Yes. I have a very successful son who’s a big star, and a very capable husband who’s a lawyer. A lot of people around me say that I don’t need to worry about anything for the rest of my life, that I should just enjoy it. But I started thinking, my husband uses legal tools to protect victims. My son uses his fame to support rural development and help farmers. And me?”

“Am I destined to be nothing more than someone’s wife or someone’s mother?”

“I didn’t get much education, but I just felt that a life like that, while comfortable, was really boring. I felt like I was completely useless to society.”

“That time we went to Sanchaling, my son said he needed a model and asked me to help shoot a video. I never expected it to go viral. Then a bunch of influencer agencies reached out to me, wanting to sign me.”

“That’s when I thought, if becoming an influencer means I can help people in need, like my son does, then maybe I could contribute something to society too.”

On screen, Hu Qianqian recalled her unremarkable early life, her failed first marriage. She had thought her life was already set—running a shop, doing some small business, waiting for her son to get married and have kids, then helping raise her grandkids. Isn’t that how most ordinary women live?

“But I don’t think that way anymore.” For the first time, Hu Qianqian lifted her head in front of the camera. Her once gentle and beautiful eyes now shone with a light that couldn’t be hidden. “I want to do something meaningful. I want to be Hu Qianqian once in a while, not just Mrs. Liang or Wei Sheng’s mom.”

“I love my son very much, and I love my husband too. But now I understand—husbands and children should never be a woman’s entire life.”

The show Hu Qianqian appeared on was a well-known women’s talk show on national television, famous for its tearjerking interviews. The host was especially skilled at drawing out deep emotions.

Viewers had expected to hear moving stories of women breaking free from oppressive marriages and finding themselves. But instead, for the next hour, they laughed so hard they nearly fell off their beds, couches, and chairs.

The host had assumed that the women’s entrepreneurial journey must have been driven by hardship—being mistreated in marriage, lacking money, and struggling to survive.

But Hu Qianqian and her friends had a different story: Could clothing manufacturers please stop designing those so-called “mom outfits”? Seriously!

Moms really don’t like those big floral padded jackets, tight ankle pants, or those ugly, unfashionable “elderly shoes.”

Even work smocks—can’t they have a little design sense? And when choosing fabric patterns, do they all have to look like a flower garden exploded?

Help!!!

Just thinking about being in their early forties and already expected to wear those “mom clothes” gave them headaches.

You won’t make them? Fine! We’ll make them ourselves!

And they did. Luckily, their generation grew up during a time of material scarcity, so they were all pretty handy. Hu Qianqian and her two “wildcard designers” traveled across the country to attend trade shows and visit museums. They even checked out anime conventions and Hanfu cultural festivals popular with young people, all to gather design inspiration.

One teammate from Shandong offered to help source reliable cotton fabric suppliers. Another from Jiangsu helped connect them with affordable silk and synthetic fabric vendors. Others from Wenzhou and Fujian reached out to relatives to find small factories willing to work with them.

And just like that, a group of middle-aged moms with zero entrepreneurial experience, driven by sheer determination, traveled far and wide with one goal in mind: to create stylish clothing and shoes that moms actually want to wear.

“We didn’t hire any big-name designers. We’re a small business, we can’t afford it. So we just made the samples ourselves, then took them to the factories and asked them to help us with the patterns. They’re all relatives, so they were happy to help,” Hu Qianqian said with a smile.

“Like this one?” At some point, the host had quietly left the studio and returned wearing one of Hu Qianqian’s store’s best-selling pieces.

It was a patchwork Hanfu-inspired dress. The top was a high-waisted cross-collar blouse with a pure cotton lining and a layer of soft beige organza on the outside.

Just getting the top right had taken three rounds of revisions. The single-layer blouse didn’t hold its shape, so they added the organza overlay. That simple change elevated the entire look. The light gauze added a soft, elegant touch. After multiple tests, they settled on three colors: beige, medium gray, and camel. All were flattering and refined.

For the skirt, the host chose a dusty mauve shade—a rare hue, softer and more graceful than traditional purple, giving off an intellectual charm.

The cotton fabric underneath was soft and absorbent, preventing the outer gauze from sticking to the skin. The middle layer was a warm white silk, and the outermost layer was a misty mauve mesh.

The best part? This dress could be DIY’d.

That idea came from one of their team members—a doll enthusiast. At her suggestion, Hu Qianqian and the designers separated the top and bottom. The skirt was made in a traditional Hanfu high-waist style. Customers could buy just one piece or mix and match both long and short versions.

With this design, the top remains the same, but the skirt comes in two styles. One is a casual ankle-length skirt, perfect for shopping or sightseeing. The other is a dramatic, gown-style skirt that looks like it was made for the red carpet.

What catapulted this outfit into overnight bestseller status was none other than superstar Shen Yi. She fell in love with the design at first sight—and perhaps also wanted to support Wei Sheng’s mother—so she actually wore the dress to a televised awards ceremony.

When Shen Yi stepped onto the red carpet, entertainment reporters and fashion influencers were stunned.

Given Shen Yi’s current status in the entertainment industry, she could easily borrow gowns from any top-tier brand. Even if not haute couture, first-tier designer labels would be tripping over themselves to dress her. But the gown she wore? Sure, it was stunning and elevated her entire aura, but the real kicker was this: not a single major fashion house had released a gown this season with such strong traditional Chinese elements.

Shen Yi had already decided to give Wei Sheng this honor. While she was still walking the red carpet, her studio released a set of professionally edited photos taken before the event, clearly crediting the source of the gown.

When netizens saw the name “Hu Qianqian,” they assumed it was some niche designer. But after clicking the link—surprise! It turned out to be a group of housewives running the show?

Wait a minute—has the aesthetic taste of middle-aged women gotten this good? Curious onlookers followed the link to the online shop and instantly forgot all about the awards show. The main stars had already walked the carpet, and the first hour of the ceremony was usually filled with consolation prizes anyway. Who cared? Shopping came first!

That very night, the two-in-one dress set Shen Yi wore—casual and formal—sold out completely.

Sure, the dress was beautiful, but what really won people over was the pricing. A single set with the top and one skirt was listed at 589 yuan. Add the gown-style skirt, and the full set came to 889 yuan. The set even included a pair of custom-designed invisible safety buttons shaped like traditional twin fish knots. When fastened at the chest, they blended seamlessly with the outfit, preventing any wardrobe mishaps while adding a unique decorative touch. It was perfect for customers who didn’t like low necklines.

Many people bought the set just for those buttons. Unfortunately, they weren’t sold separately—otherwise, they would’ve become a hit product on their own.

At first, the price seemed a bit steep for the so-called “budget girls.” But once people received their orders and felt the fabric, they instantly regretted not buying more. Honestly, with this kind of material, if the same outfit were sold under a well-known brand in a department store, even a single blouse would cost four or five hundred yuan. And here they were getting a blouse and two skirts for 889 yuan!

These days, a branded dress at the mall easily goes for over a thousand yuan. And the gown-style skirt in this set? The second inner lining was made of silk sourced from Jiangsu. Everyone knows how pricey silk from Suzhou and Hangzhou is.

Most importantly, these aunties had grown up being frugal and practical. Back in the day, they’d wear the same outfit for over a decade. Now that they were making clothes themselves, they’d rather lower their profit margins than skimp on materials. Their dresses weren’t the kind you wear for one season and toss. The designs were timeless, the fabrics high-quality. A set like this could easily last for years. When you break it down, it’s barely a couple hundred yuan per year for a stunning outfit—what a steal!

Even female TV hosts who normally wore only designer brands fell in love with Hu Qianqian’s creations.

So, while audiences at home were armed with tissues, ready to be moved to tears by the show, they ended up glued to their phones instead, frantically searching for Hu Qianqian’s online store and livestream channel.

That night, not only did all the bestsellers in Hu Qianqian’s shop and livestream sell out, but even the handmade items crafted from leftover fabric—decorative buttons in all shapes, soft cloth shoes, vintage crochet hats—were snapped up in a frenzy.

Those who missed out were beating their chests in regret. Some worried that the store’s newfound popularity would lead to price hikes. They bombarded customer service with messages: If you’re out of stock, can’t you at least put up a pre-order link? We don’t mind waiting a few days, as long as the next batch keeps the same quality and price.

After watching the interview with her family, Hu Qianqian didn’t even get a break. Late into the night, she was organizing an online staff meeting to issue a store announcement. Pre-orders were off the table, but the shop promised that as long as fabric prices stayed the same, their ready-to-wear clothing would not go up in price.

“You really don’t want to do pre-orders? Legally, there’s no issue if you do,” Liang Yi said from bed, having overheard the conversation. He couldn’t help but offer a reminder to his wife.

Hu Qianqian shook her head. “Pre-orders aren’t a good idea. If someone pays upfront and then has to wait a long time, their expectations get too high. If the final product doesn’t meet those expectations, even if it’s just a little off, they’ll be disappointed. If it were me, I’d blacklist the store forever.”

That was exactly why Hu Qianqian firmly refused to do pre-orders.

Besides, many of their designs were durable and timeless. Even if they didn’t sell out online, they could always take them to the local square and set up a stall. There were still plenty of older ladies who didn’t shop online but had already asked them to hold onto a few pieces.

With tens of thousands of square-dancing aunties in J City behind them, did they really need to worry about selling their clothes?

Recently, the algorithm had been acting up, which only motivated them to update faster and work harder. Please take a moment to exit this mode. Thank you.

(End of Chapter)