Zhao Mingfang finally spotted Feng Qingxue, and she rose sharply, pointing at her while querying, "What are you doing here?"
Her eyebrows soared, exuding vigorous energy, unable to conceal her jealousy.
Even though Feng Qingxue was modestly dressed at the moment, her complexion dull, and her brows thick and lips pale, akin to a withering flower. Yet, the stunning impression she left a month ago remained deeply engraved in Zhao Mingfang's mind, like the first time she saw the most beautiful woman from the Republic. No matter how much she dressed up afterward, or how much she applied cosmetic creams and used toner, she found herself hopelessly inferior to Feng Qingxue.
Wang Jiao slapped the table and got up, "How can you speak like this?"
"Who are you?" Realizing Wang Jiao was also beautiful, Zhao Mingfang became even more disgruntled.
