As he walked in, Su Chaoyang realized that today she had actually put on delicate light makeup, some of her smooth long hair tied back, revealing her pretty and delicate oval face.
Fine and dark eyebrows, a high and pert nose bridge, clear-cut facial features, red lips and white teeth—she was already over twenty-four, yet she remained as pure as when she was sixteen, like a white lotus just cleared after the rain.
The so-called human beauty eclipses that of flowers, surely it must be speaking of her.
This armful of roses, though each one was at its most beautiful during the peak of blooming, in his eyes, could not compare to even one-tenth of the beauty of the person before him.
Finally, Su Chaoyang stood still, yet he did not speak, only watching her with a smile in his eyes.
Mu Xiangwan stood quietly, motionless, her originally pounding heartbeat miraculously calmed down at this moment, even her breathing became slow and gentle.
