Lu Qingtang stared blankly at the person walking straight toward her.
In the night breeze, that person moved with effortless poise and elegant strides. Between slender, white-jade fingers, a single red rose was held loosely, while long, pitch-black hair cascaded down the back, swaying gently in the wind.
Lu Qingtang had never seen anyone so exquisitely crafted.
Chapter 169