Yun Qian glanced at him and said nothing, lowering her eyes and lightly brushing her fingers over the rouge paper. A delicate touch of moisture adorned the space between her brows, adding a touch of elegance.
Under the lamplight, her facial contours were distinct, her complexion as radiant as jade.
A face that reflects the person.
——
She was fond of everything she heard.
Recently, however, some words pleased her more.
Words like "wife" and "silly girl."
But if her husband did not ask, she would not take the initiative to speak.
Because Xu Chang'an had emphasized "restraint" to her countless times, rules which Yun Qian adhered to scrupulously.
"Comb my hair," Yun Qian said calmly.
"Alright," Xu Chang'an picked up a wooden comb and carefully managed Yun Qian's long hair.
Feeling the trails left by the comb, Yun Qian looked at the faint rouge mark on her finger.
