Gu Yangjin stood under the pale office light, her figure lit as if touched by some painter's brush. Her hair was soft and silky, cascading over her shoulders in loose waves, catching the faint glimmer of light so that each strand seemed alive. Her skin was luminous, delicate like porcelain warmed by sunlight, carrying the faintest natural flush that made her appear effortlessly vibrant.
Her eyes—oh, her eyes. They were wide and bright, carrying a sparkle that seemed to tug at Qiao Zhi's very soul. Dark pupils glistened like obsidian gems, framed by thick lashes that fluttered when she blinked, sending tiny shocks straight through Qiao Zhi's chest. Those eyes were not just beautiful. They were dangerous. They were the kind that could disarm fortresses, melt steel walls, and unravel all the layers of composure Qiao Zhi had spent years perfecting.
