Ji Qingwu pretended not to notice Lan Zhi's unusual expression.
She calmly reached out and took a fresh set of clothes from the rack by the screen.
It was a light turquoise top of cloud brocade, densely embroidered with mottled bamboo, paired with a crescent-white skirt intricately embroidered with ocean waves.
At first glance, it seemed ordinary, but a closer look revealed the extraordinary needlework.
Mrs. Qiao had specially commissioned it from an embroiderer in Jiangnan not long after Ji Qingwu returned home. Compared to palace attire, the outfit was less ornate, but its true value lay in the artistry of the needlework.
Ji Qingwu had tried it on once before putting it away. Though simple in style, the embroidery was so exquisite that she worried about accidentally snagging or scuffing it while handling her medicinal herbs.
As Ji Qingwu dressed, Lan Zhi stole glances at her. It was clearly the same face, yet something about it seemed different.
