Zhuo Qingyan and the Silk Embroideress didn't notice anything unusual about the woman.
Gu Zhao didn't say anything to alert them. His face was impassive, his expression unconcerned. He simply gestured for the two women to come over and pointed to a few sets of ready-made clothes hanging on the wall. "How about these two?"
It was no wonder the young women of Spring Street avoided this shop; its style was completely different from the one next door.
Peeking from the doorway earlier, they had seen that the clothes in the neighboring shop were a riot of color—dazzling, flamboyant, and designed to grab attention. Wearing one would be like having your own personal spotlight.
The young women on Spring Street naturally loved such garments, but in an ordinary household, they would seem rather garish.
