Xiangqing is old.
This is what she always thinks when she looks in the mirror.
That day she was dressed up again, with dark eyebrows and watery eyes, but she couldn't hide the fine lines at the corners of her eyes and the faint grooves at the corners of her mouth. Her hands, no longer as smooth as yesterday, gently caressed the face of the person in the mirror. The red makeup could still be applied, and the yellow flowers could still be applied, but the years slipped away quietly when she looked in the mirror again and again. She could never return to the Su Xiangqing she was sixteen years ago.
Conception: