Qian Yixiu smiled and walked over, greeted her young mother, and then bent down to admire the "art pieces." The two children had grown more beautiful and calling them works of art was no exaggeration.
Especially Sister Jing, who had inherited almost all of her mother's good aspects. Skin so white and tender it could be broken by a puff, large apricot eyes dark and shining, long and curled eyelashes like the little wings of a butterfly, a petite nose, lips like flower petals, a pointed little chin, and the occasional glimpse of dimples... She was much more beautiful than the original thin and small owner of the body.
