The morning light falls through the window lattice, resting on Wangshu's near-perfect face, faintly radiant.
Her features seem sculpted from moonlight, gentle yet sharp; her brows are like willow leaves, eyes alluringly hooked, like a snake captivating one's soul; her nose is straight and delicate, with a slightly upturned tip; her lips are soft and full, colored like ripe cherries, as if hiding the secrets of spring, tempting one to explore further.
This is undoubtedly a face that could drive men across the world mad, an artistic masterpiece that gathers the beauty of the world into one.
Wangshu caresses her own face in the mirror, but suddenly feels somewhat unfamiliar.
Is this me?
The self in her memory… seems to still be the face of the Jade Rabbit Mask...
"Wangshu Fairy, you wouldn't want your junior brother's recently revived Bihua Pavilion to go bankrupt immediately, would you?"
