"Tan Rou, this dress makes you look too mature," Tan Jing reached out to touch Tan Rou's skirt. "You're only eighteen, yet wearing this makes you look twenty-eight, not pretty at all. Take it off quickly."
Tan Rou stepped back slightly, avoiding her hand, and said coldly, "I can see for myself whether it looks good or not. I don't need your opinion."
Tan Jing continued, "Tan Rou, honestly, you don't look good in this dress." She nudged Zhao Ru's arm, "Zhao Ru, do you think it looks good?"
Zhao Ru thought every piece of clothing here was beautiful. She had never seen so many lovely clothes before; each was crafted by a renowned master. Every dress was stunning, especially the one Tan Rou was wearing—it was so beautiful it hardly seemed like something humans could make.
"Zhao Ru, do you think it looks nice?" Tan Jing pinched Zhao Ru again.
Wincing from pain, Zhao Ru covered her arm and nodded, "It looks good, very nice indeed!"
Tan Rou scoffed, "Did you hear that, Tan Jing?"
