The evening wind lifted the plain gauze over Qiu Chuyao's body. Her plain-colored ruqun was loosely tied with an apricot-yellow silk belt, and her waist was still as slender as a girl's, though her left hand unconsciously stroked her lower abdomen.
The girl was less than a month pregnant, still beautiful, her crow-black hair tied in a cloud bun, pearls on her hairpin reflecting a warm jade luster from her earlobes.
Madam Yin said that when pregnant, one should not dress too luxuriously to avoid retribution, so the ornaments on her body were reduced by more than half, yet her beauty was undiminished, making the vermilion mole between her brows even more striking.
Under the hem of her skirt, her milky-white embroidered shoes peeked out, their tips trembling lightly with her steps, like lotus buds touched by morning dew.
