A Tale of Two Cities Supporting Xinjiang

During this period, Guzalinur has been extremely busy.

At 2 a.m., there were still three sets of design documents on the table that needed to be revised, all of which the client needed to pick up tomorrow.

Her stomach was aching slightly; this was the result of surviving on only naan and tea for the fifth consecutive day.

"Guzalinur, it's time to rest."

Gu Fu's voice came from the doorway, tinged with caution.

"There's just a little more to finish, Dad, you should go to sleep now."

Guzalinur didn't look up, her fingers deftly threading the silver thread through the eye of the needle.

Gu Fu did not leave, but pulled up a chair, sat down, picked up a half-finished dress, and began to sew on the decorative sequins.

His technique is not as skillful as his daughter's, but he has made rapid progress in the past few months.

While packing up her tools, Guzalinur suddenly felt dizzy and had to hold onto the worktable to steady herself.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, I'm just a little dizzy."

The next day, Guzalinur still appeared at the studio on time.

In the morning, I received two new clients. In the afternoon, I supervised three apprentices in making a batch of newly designed veils. In the evening, I will go to the fabric market to select materials.

Just as she was about to leave, her biggest competitor, Silk Road Fashion, posted a provocative comment on her social media account:

"Tradition needs innovation. Some studios are still stuck in the aesthetics of twenty years ago, which is a real pity for such good craftsmanship."

The comments below clearly show signs of being paid trolls, all implying that Guzalinur's designs are outdated.

Apprentice Azgul blushed with anger: "How could they say that!"

Wasn't the dress that celebrity wore for their wedding last week a copy of our embroidery pattern?

Guzalinur waved her hand: "Just do your own thing and don't worry about these things."

But I know in my heart that competition in the industry is getting fiercer.

New studios are springing up like mushrooms after rain, and price wars are raging. Some long-time clients have already switched to newer, cheaper brands.

She insists on using high-quality materials and traditional craftsmanship, which increases costs by 30%, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to explain.

It was already 9 p.m. when I got back from the market.

Guzalinur dragged her tired body and pushed open the door to her home, only to find her father talking to a strange man.

"Nur, this is Director Mao from the TV station."

The father explained, "They wanted to make a documentary about traditional handicrafts, and they chose your project."

Director Mao handed over his business card: "Ms. Gu Zaili, we have seen your work and were deeply impressed."

The creative combination of Atlas silk with modern formal wear, in particular, is exactly the story we're looking for.

This was originally a rare opportunity, but Guzalinur's first reaction was: "How long will the filming take? My work cannot stop."

Director Mao paused for a moment: "It will take about five to six working days, spread over three months."

We will try our best to accommodate your schedule.

……

After seeing the director off, Gu's father cautiously asked, "This is a great opportunity for more people to learn about our craft. Aren't you happy?"

"I'm happy, but I don't even have enough time to sleep now, Dad."

Guzalinur rubbed her temples. "The newly recruited apprentices need three more months before they can work independently, and Xiereli is asking for a raise, or else she'll go to Silk Road Fashion... Every day I wake up to all sorts of problems."

After a moment of silence, Gu's father suddenly said, "I left a pot of mutton soup in the refrigerator. It was your favorite drink when you were little."

Guzalinur felt a lump in her throat.

She remembered that when she was a child, her father would always use that big pot to stew soup, and the whole house would be filled with its aroma.

Back then, my father was still working at the factory, coming home on time every day, and the whole family would sit around on the carpet to eat and chat. When did those days disappear?

The work pressure only increased over the next two weeks. Filming the documentary took two days, forcing the schedule to be compressed to be completed in even fewer working hours.

Guzalinur began to suffer from severe insomnia and relied on strong tea to stay awake every day.

The turning point came on Friday afternoon.

She was rushing to finish making her wedding dress when she suddenly felt a tightness in her chest and shortness of breath.

The workbench in front of me started to spin, I heard the apprentices' exclamations, and then I knew nothing more.

When she woke up, she was already lying in a hospital bed. Abdul sat by the bedside, his eyes filled with worry.

"The doctor said you are severely fatigued and malnourished, and if this continues, you will have serious problems."

Nur, work is important, but your life is more important.

Guzalinur stared at the pale ceiling, pondering this question seriously for the first time.

"Dad, am I a failure?"

Father Gu held her hand: "Silly child, you are my pride."

But look at those beautiful fabrics; if they're stretched too taut, even the strongest fabric will tear. People are the same.

After being discharged from the hospital, Guzalinur made two decisions.

First, she spoke with everyone on the team and reassigned tasks. Promising apprentices were given more responsibility and corresponding compensation, including Sylvie, who might leave.

She frankly stated, "The studio needs to adjust its pace; I can't continue to overwork myself and everyone else like this. I welcome those who are willing to slow down and work on each piece well; I won't force those who want to make money faster to stay."

Surprisingly, most people chose to stay.

Azgul even said, "Sister Nur, we're following you not just to make money. But what will we do if you collapse from exhaustion?"

Secondly, she accepted the documentary team's suggestion, but requested that the filming be done at a realistic work pace, rather than rushing to achieve a better effect.

The director hesitated at first, but eventually agreed.

The changes are slow, but they are gradually becoming apparent.

Guzalinur set strict working hours: no more than ten hours a day, with Sundays off.

She started going home for dinner once a week, sometimes even bringing unfinished work with her, chatting with her father while embroidering.

The father-daughter relationship has clearly improved, and the father is becoming more and more adept at his work in the studio, even able to independently serve some of his old clients.

A month later, "Silk Road Splendor" was met with a collective complaint from customers for using substandard materials, and its business plummeted.

Guzalinur's studio saw a threefold increase in inquiries due to the popularity of the documentary.

Faced with a flood of orders, she didn't accept them all as she used to, but instead carefully selected one-third of them.

"We can expand..."

Guzalinur shook her head. "Dad, do you remember our last conversation? Fabric will tear if it's stretched too tight."

The same applies to studios; blindly expanding will only lower quality and exhaust the team.

What I want to do is a legacy that can be passed down, not a fleeting moment of popularity.

She began training Azgul to be a design assistant, handing over some of her work to her.

Over the weekend, she signed up for a ceramics course, something she had longed to do since childhood but never had the time to try.

The atmosphere at the experience-sharing meeting for cadres supporting Xinjiang was lively.

Chang Peng stood on the stage, his voice loud and clear: "I'm going to tell you a true story, about Guzalinur, a designer who came from a vocational college."