"That young man had dark skin. He was a little shorter than me, about up to my ear, and was wearing light-blue ripped jeans and a solid black T-shirt."
Ni Guangli tried hard to recall the person who had bumped into him.
He wasn't like those unobservant men who wouldn't even notice if their wives wore a new outfit.
Ni Guangli had always been a refined man who paid close attention to his attire.
On top of that, his daughter had been sensitive and spoiled as a child, and her various demands often left his head spinning. For example—
"I want the tangerine one, not the vermilion one! WAHHH! Daddy, why don't you understand me?"
"Daddy! This isn't lace trim! My deskmate's trim doesn't look like this!"
"Why aren't these buttons little hearts! Daddy! I want little heart buttons!"
"WAH! Daddy!! This is a Chinese rose, not a camellia! WAHHH, I want a camellia necklace!"
…
