Although he often spouted nonsense in front of everyone, Fu Qian had always considered himself an honest man.
More often than not, he had a strange seriousness about him.
For example, his conclusion just now—that each had their own merits—was the result of repeated consideration and impartial comparison.
It was by no means something he'd said off the cuff.
To Fu Qian, that remarkable image from earlier had represented the ultimate expression of life's beauty.
And the Lady before him, though slender and frail, and completely concealed beneath her wide robe, still possessed an indescribable allure.
It was a charm that bypassed ordinary standards of judgment and directly instilled the very concept of beauty into one's consciousness.
What was more, even in this dark underground, locked up with all those deformed corpses, she still maintained a unique elegance.
The pointed-hat Lady seemed rather surprised by Fu Qian's assessment.
"You have a discerning eye."
After gazing at him for a while, she offered her own assessment of his assessment.
Clearly, humility was just as foreign to her.
"Everyone says so."
Fu Qian nodded confidently.
Of course, Fu Qian's "everyone" amounted to no more than one or two people.
In fact, even Young Master Qin and the others were often taken aback by his singular taste.
Without asking what that strange image from earlier represented, Fu Qian simply sat down beside her.
She showed no sign of getting up, and the hat on her head was so large that speaking in that position just now must have been terribly awkward.
"What's your name?"
Watching Fu Qian, the pointed-hat Lady rested her chin in her hand and asked.
"Fu Qian."
Fu Qian?
The pointed-hat Lady repeated his name, furrowing her brows.
It was the first time she'd changed her expression.
After a long