Qian Wanyu indulged Dongfang Minghui's antics for an entire day, then returned to the Thousand Family with a basketful of fabric and various cosmetics for young women.
After returning to their courtyard, Dongfang Minghui buried herself in her little sketchbook, racking her brains over designs for their wedding attire. Watching her scratch her head with such earnest concentration, Qian Wanyu felt perfectly happy.
She lowered her head and glanced at the hand Ninth Sister had clasped tightly, their fingers interlaced. As though she could feel the unease and worry in the other woman, she moved her little finger, tracing something in her palm.
Dongfang Minghui tilted her head, carefully recalling the beautiful wedding clothes she had seen at other people's weddings: Han-style robes, Tang-style robes... "Seventh Sister, do you prefer something more conservative, or-um-something a little more unconventional?" She leaned back slightly to look over Seventh Sister's proportions.
Qian Wanyu's figure was perfectly proportioned. Thanks to her years of cultivation, she did not have an ounce of excess flesh, and she felt unexpectedly wonderful to the touch.
Seeing Ninth Sister's lecherous smile, Qian Wanyu wanted to laugh. She could not resist reaching out to flick her forehead. "You've been puzzling over this and that ever since you came back. What is this?"
"Clothes."
Dongfang Minghui hurriedly pressed her other hand over the sketchbook, keeping her from looking.
The more she did so, the more curious Qian Wanyu became. With a little restraint, she easily snatched the sketchbook away. The first few pages showed a series of clothing designs with rather wide sleeves that looked quite pretty. On the later pages, however, the style changed into airy dresses whose hems reached only the thighs. They used so little fabric that they looked as though someone had shortchanged them.
"What is this?"