By the time he finished his cigarette and went back, Yang Zhilan had just come out of the walk-in closet.
She had changed into a white dress. It was a very ordinary style.
But when someone looked like her, it wasn't that clothes made the person—it was the person who made the clothes.
She looked good in anything, whether she wore it or not. And the less she wore, the better she looked.
Otherwise, why did clothing brands always like to hire handsome men and beautiful women to advertise their products?
Wasn't it to make the clothes look good?
Could the same outfit really look the same on a model and an ordinary person?
Did you think every handsome guy who liked reading novels was born to be a walking clothes hanger?
"How did the treatment go today?"
Though she had already heard Tang Yu's thoughts, Yang Zhilan still asked, even though she knew the answer.
"It went pretty well. It was just missing that little something. I'll think about what went wrong and try to cure you completely."
Tang Yu didn't hide anything, answering frankly.
Maybe because she often heard Tang Yu's thoughts veer into suggestive territory, Yang Zhilan now found herself reading too much into the word "cure."
Her face flushed faintly. She inwardly spat at herself, blaming Tang Yu for corrupting her, then smiled and reassured him. "It's okay. Don't rush yourself; we can take our time. I'll be staying in Yanjing for a while anyway."
Yang Zhilan suddenly smiled.
Like a daffodil suddenly blooming, that fleeting beauty was all the more likely to stay in one's memory for a lifetime.
"Works for me. But I still think we should keep a closer eye on your condition. How about I stay here overnight?"
Tang Yu sat on