At the time, Bai Ruozhu didn't know why, but the idea suddenly popped into her head that the courtesan might be Jiao Bingqin. Now that she had confirmed it wasn't the case, she found it amusing. Jiao Bingqin was quite attractive, but that demure elegance of a well-bred lady was hardly enough to match the stunning beauty of the courtesan. Moreover, Jiao Bingqin couldn't reach the level of the courtesan.
Just then, the courtesan named Qingqiu suddenly turned her head to glance at Bai Ruozhu. Her gaze was cold and detached, and while she seemed fragile, she exuded a unique aura that resembled the misty cloud-like women described in poems. Bai Ruozhu was certain and sure that even if Jiao Bingqin had disguised herself, she didn't possess such a temperament.
Bai Ruozhu and her company quickly turned to another street. No one noticed that on the courtesan's flower carriage, a corner of the curtain was lifted, and a pair of resentful, poisonous eyes shot out.
