Lu Shifeng didn't tell Su Xingyu about the complexities in between; his mother's dislike was his mother's issue, and it had nothing to do with her.
Su Xingyu took the qipao to the resting room to change. Once she put it on, it fit perfectly, the soft silk smoothly outlining her captivating curves, fitting seamlessly as if it were tailor-made.
She couldn't help but marvel at the old lady's embroidery skills. The true elegance of a lady from the past was extraordinary. Even for a woman who had studied abroad and experienced great changes, her stitching skills were impeccable, and it remained perfect even after decades. She gazed at herself in the full-length mirror. Under the crystal light, the floral qipao set against her fair, delicate skin, adding a flush of gentle color. Her eyes sparkled, and her features were exquisite, resembling a beauty from a classical painting, as graceful as a flower, as pure as jade, with an enchanting subtle fragrance.
She looked stunning.
