“But you are undoubtedly the pride of the empire; the Führer praises you as the elegant Atlantis knight of the SS Black Knights, the highest standard of pure Aryan German blood.”
The tailor finished taking measurements and draped a piece of fine dark blue wool over him, quickly cutting the fabric along his neck with scissors. “But to be honest, it’s clearly inappropriate for us to keep coming to you as a model every time we design new clothing.”
“You finally understand my plight, Rude.” He smiled.
The tailor wrapped another piece of fabric around his long legs, tailoring it to fit, and secured it with a long needle. “Your figure isn’t standard; the term ‘standard’ only applies to most people. No German soldier can achieve your level of golden ratio. You are a unique and incredible existence. I dare say, even a sackcloth draped over you would look as handsome as a Greek deity.”
“Harry, I’ve grown tired of your flattery.” Though his words were somewhat impatient, he still cooperatively held up the gradually fitting trousers at the waist while the tailor lowered the cuffs a bit to cover his instep, realizing the initial length was a bit short. “It’s been five years; those dresses, shirts, coats, capes, hats… you’ve filled my wardrobe. Have you ever seen a man with so many clothes? I don’t have a cross-dressing fetish.”
“Done! Look, it’s perfect.” The tailor clasped his hands, standing behind him, eyes gazing into the mirror. The thin wool fabric, after the recent stitching, had transformed into a fitted suit on him. The tailor marked two lines with chalk on the side of the suit, “The pockets are here, and this is for the sword belt.”
“What do you think, darling?”
Nhanyi looked over at them; the outfit was indeed beautiful, and the tailor had skilled hands.
He suddenly remembered something, “By the way, Harry, while you’re at it, get me a new uniform belt.”
The tailor immediately replied cheerfully, “Of course, that’s no problem. Do you need anything else?”
“Nothing else, just this accessory wears out the easiest.” He smiled, his gaze landing directly on Nhanyi.
Is he a eunuch?
The tailor, having completed his task, bid farewell. He turned to Nhanyi, raising the corners of his mouth in a smile, “You see, this is truly troublesome.”
Nhanyi stood there, thinking perhaps he was in a good mood today. His temper was unpredictable, making him hard to read, but she sensed he wouldn’t easily forgive her for entering the neighboring room without permission to help that brothel madam with her medicine.
“I drank a bit too much last night; it’s a pity you weren’t there to celebrate the victory with me,” he approached her, whispering in her ear, “A general has disappeared from the SS roster. Damn British car, always so unstable. I didn’t want to move against him so soon; it’s just a pity he didn’t know his place, trying to take the initiative.”
Nhanyi stared at him suspiciously, not understanding why he was telling her these things. The news she had just learned from that brothel madam in the morning, and by night he had already assassinated a political rival; his speed of reaction and decisiveness were terrifying. Thinking of this made her shiver.
“You’re trembling.” His hand gently caressed her waist, “Don’t be afraid; you need to relax a bit. I still have some matters to attend to, and tonight I’ll take you somewhere nice…”
He pushed her out of the rose-colored room and into the hall, where the song and dance performance was still ongoing. Ruth, fanning herself with a feather fan, walked over to him and Nhanyi, covering her mouth as she laughed, “Oh my, you are really quick.”
Hearing the boss lady’s teasing, he did not argue. He lifted her small face, “She’s not quite used to this place.” Nhanyi was still sobbing, preferring to keep her eyes downcast, never daring to look up at him. “Baby, let’s go home.”
“You’re welcome to come again,” the boss lady said as she escorted them to the door, fiddling with her red fox scarf.
After shoving her into the car, the driver started the engine. He sat in the front seat and said to the driver, “It’s a bit stuffy in here.” The driver did not respond. He rolled down the window and unbuttoned his collar, the cold night wind blowing in through the front window, mercilessly brushing against her. It was winter, and the temperature was low; the cold wind made her shiver, and she covered her mouth to stifle a sneeze.
“Cold, baby?” He kindly rolled up the window and turned to look at her, saying, “It’s you who makes me feel hot.”
