The minimalist, floor-to-ceiling glass dressing suite of the Yang estate was silent, save for the faint rustle of silk and tailored wool.
Chen Ying stood before the grand mirror, her calm eyes reflecting a breathtaking contrast to her usual casual attire. She wore an exquisite, midnight-blue evening gown that clung perfectly to her slender frame, cascading down to the floor like a quiet waterfall. The deep hue of the fabric made her porcelain skin look almost ethereal.
Standing right behind her, his tall, imposing figure framing hers perfectly in the glass, was Yang Muchen. He wore a custom-tailored, stark black tuxedo that accentuated his broad shoulders and commanding aura. His long, slender fingers were currently adjusting a matching midnight-blue silk tie, his movements slow, deliberate, and entirely unbothered by the storm they were about to unleash upon the capital.
