Ye Jiajia and Qiaoqiao's gazes simultaneously landed on Chen Jingzi, who was some distance away.
Chen Jingzi was dressed in humble attire, her expensive brand-name clothes nowhere to be seen, perhaps she'd sold them.
The wool coat on her was likely purchased from a street stall for a few dozen RMB — a button was missing on the belt, it was left open, hanging on both sides.
Her once lustrously smooth hair had become frizzy, tied behind her head. From time to time, a strand of hair would fall onto her face, which Chen Jingzi brushed off cursorily.
She looked like a hardworking housewife.
A term suddenly came to Qiaoqiao's mind— unkempt.
Yes, unkempt.
They say there are no ugly women, only lazy ones.
The once radiant and dazzling Chen Jingzi had suddenly become a pitiable yet laughable woman.
Presumably forced by circumstances, those high-grade cosmetics and outfits, shoes, and bags had now become her unattainable luxuries.
