During the rainy season, Beijing is always covered with a layer of mist. Shen Zhiyi walked through the ancient bluestone road in Liulichang on stilettos. The water droplets falling from the tip of the oil paper umbrella left dark traces on the slits of the cheongsam. She raised her hand and pushed open the carved wooden door of "Zhiyifang". The scent of sandalwood mixed with camphor wood hit her face, and she saw a man in a suit and leather shoes standing in the store.
The man's back was facing the door, his well-tailored black suit outlined his broad shoulders, and the agarwood bracelet on his wrist glowed warmly under the light. Hearing the footsteps, he turned around, his eyebrows were as sharp as a knife, but the ends of his eyes were slightly raised, with a bit of casual nobility. Shen Zhiyi's fingers holding the handle of the umbrella suddenly tightened - Huo Yanting, a figure in the Beijing circle who would make the ground tremble when he stomped his feet, was looking down at her newly made moon-white satin cheongsam.
"Ms. Shen's craftsmanship is well-deserved." Huo Yanting's voice was as low as a cello, and his fingertips ran across the embroidery artwork on the desk, "This pair of side-by-side lotuses looks like they are swimming out of the water."
