Mingshu slowly raised her head, and the sight that greeted her was a stranger's handsome face. She felt a slight jolt of surprise, grateful that she had already encountered the androgynous beauty of Helan Lian, which enabled her to maintain her composure now in the presence of this beautiful man.
Was this person, perhaps, a patron of Qing Yue Square?
Mingshu sighed with relief. If he was a patron, then all was well.
Indeed, Mingshu had not recognized that the man before her was the rake she had met by the lakeside. For one thing, Fu Mingye was not wearing a mask this time, and for another, it had been too dark by the lakeside for her to see him clearly. She had only a vague impression that the people of Shengjing maintained a high standard of appearance—it seemed these days one couldn't venture out without some semblance of attractiveness.
