A trace of jealousy, a trace of hostility, and a deep, heartfelt sense of shame.
That shame was like a country bumpkin of a rich landlord stepping into the emperor's treasure vault, seeing a room glittering with jewels and suddenly feeling that the gold and silver stashed away at home were beneath mention.
She thought...
If the newcomer was a woman, then even someone with beauty capable of toppling kingdoms like herself would feel ashamed of her own appearance, wishing she could cover her face with a veil and never be seen again.
But if the newcomer was a man...
Every man under heaven would probably want to bash his head into a block of tofu, while every woman under heaven would want to throw herself at him for a kiss.
If a man looked like this, how were women supposed to live?
If a woman looked like this, how were other women supposed to live?
Such a person—possessing all the charm and beauty in the world, yet also carrying a heroic spirit no less impressive than any man's.
Without warning.
He appeared before everyone.
As though moonlight had condensed into human form, as though a flower had bloomed from the night, as though a dream had reached its most absurd, most enchanting, most unbelievable page.
He simply stood there.
He did not speak or move. One could not even make out the rise and fall of his breathing.
He held an embroidered handkerchief in his left hand, while his right rested behind his back. Embroidered shoes stood upon the bluestone paving, and an eye mask covered half his face.
His green robe fluttered faintly in the night breeze.
Upon the violet-gold eye mask, a pair of bewitching eyes traced in gold gleamed faintly beneath the moonlight...
As though they