In the tearoom, two women were sitting, and two were standing.
The ones sitting,
one was wrapped in a coat, with a cold and elegant face, precisely Miss An.
The other, dressed in gauze, with a sword carried on her back, graceful and charming, was unexpectedly Madam Tong!
The ones standing,
one was clad in a sword robe, with a face as cold as frost, was Ying.
The other, mellow and coquettish, was Ling.
Among them, Miss An, Ying, and Ling seemed bewitched, staring at whatever Madam Tong was drawing on the paper.
Madam Tong was sketching delicately, laughing to herself as if she were saying something.
Song Cheng felt a sudden chill in his heart.
A strong sense of anomaly pierced through him like needles.
Gauze?
Madam Tong usually preferred conservative dressing, even in the summer, she would pull the neckline properly to avoid showing any skin from her neck.
How could a woman like her wear something with charm?
