Sang Wanyu was excessively beautiful.
She was born with the bone structure of a classical beauty, her brows like distant mountains touched with dark pigment, her eyes like autumn waves on shimmering water.
Her porcelain-white skin caught the light with a soft, lustrous glow, and the slight downward tilt of her head made her look precisely like a court lady stepped out of an ink wash painting—cold and aloof, yet carrying a fragile air that moved anyone to pity.
Chapter 132