At exactly nine o’clock the next morning, Shen Qingyu came downstairs.
Manlin Jiang was sitting at the dining table drinking coffee, scrolling through her phone, with a half-eaten croissant in front of her. She was wearing a casual beige sweater today, her hair loosely draped over her shoulders, and she didn’t seem to have any plans to go out.
Hearing footsteps, she looked up.
“Oh,” Manlin Jiang put down her phone, glanced Shen Qingyu up and down, and raised the corners of her mouth, “Couldn’t sleep? Getting up at this hour—Mom thought you’d sleep until noon.”
Shen Qingyu walked over to the dining table and sat down. Aunt Liu immediately brought out the breakfast she had saved for her from the kitchen—a bowl of congee with preserved egg and lean pork, two shrimp dumplings, a bowl of fruit salad, and a cup of warm honey water.
“Pei Huaijin said he’d pick me up at eleven for lunch,” Shen Qingyu took a sip of the honey water, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather.
Manlin Jiang’s eyes lit up for a moment, but she quickly suppressed it, not letting it show too obviously. She took a sip of her coffee, trying to keep her tone casual: “Oh, that’s nice.”
Then she put down her coffee cup and looked at her daughter, unable to hide the smile in her eyes.
“Mom knew you’d be sensible.”
Shen Qingyu picked up a shrimp dumpling, took a bite, then looked up at her mother.
“What choice do I have?” she said, with a hint of resigned helplessness in her tone, “I still rely on you for my allowance.”
Manlin Jiang was amused by this, her eyes curving into a smile as she reached for her phone and swiped a few times.
“Oh, right,” she said, tapping on the screen a few times, “Mom will transfer another two million to your card today.”
Shen Qingyu nearly choked on the shrimp dumpling in her mouth, coughing…
“What’s wrong?” Manlin Jiang looked at her with a smile, “Didn’t you say you rely on me for your allowance? Mom’s giving it to you.”
Her mother never lost in this regard—if you said “I’m broke,” she could immediately transfer money to shut you up, while also implying, “Since you took the money, you have to listen to me.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Shen Qingyu said softly, lowering her head to continue eating her congee.
Manlin Jiang nodded with satisfaction, picked up her phone to check it again, as if confirming the transfer had gone through. Then she put her phone down, held her coffee cup with both hands, and stared at Shen Qingyu.
After watching her for a while, Manlin Jiang finally spoke: “Qingyu, have you decided what to wear today?”
“Not yet,” Shen Qingyu picked up the last shrimp dumpling, “I’ll think about it after I finish eating.”
“Do you want to call Qing Fang over? Let her put together an outfit for you and do your makeup too. She should have time today—”
“Oh,” Shen Qingyu interrupted her, a hint of reluctance in her tone, “Why go through all that trouble? Today’s occasion isn’t as formal as yesterday’s—it’s just a casual meal. I’ll pick out something myself and put on some light makeup, that’s it.”
Manlin Jiang glanced at her, as if assessing the feasibility of this statement. She looked her daughter over—just out of bed, her hair tied up in a casual ponytail, wearing a pink cotton loungewear, with no makeup on her face. But her skin was naturally good, clean and clear, with a fresh, natural look between her brows.
“Alright then.” Manlin Jiang conceded, but quickly added, “But you still need to dress appropriately. I’m not saying you have to wear something formal, but at least—”
“Got it, got it,” Shen Qingyu mumbled through a mouthful of shrimp dumplings, “appropriate, elegant, not too flashy but still nice, right?”
Manlin Jiang was momentarily speechless, then laughed. “My daughter understands me.”
Shen Qingyu finished her porridge, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and stood up.
“I’m done eating,” she said. “I’m going upstairs to change.”
“Alright, go ahead. Pick your clothes carefully—don’t just grab anything. There’s still plenty of time, no rush.” Manlin Jiang replied.
“Understood.” Shen Qingyu’s tone carried a hint of impatience as she turned and headed upstairs.
Back in her bedroom, she closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.
The curtains in the room were already drawn open, and the winter sunlight streamed through the glass, casting a warm, golden glow across the wooden floor. Her bed remained unmade, the blanket crumpled into a pile. On the nightstand sat a half-empty glass of water from the night before and her Economic Law textbook.
She walked over to the wardrobe, pulled open the door, and found a row of clothes hanging neatly inside, waiting for her to choose.
Shen Qingyu stood before the wardrobe with her hands on her hips, her eyes scanning each piece of clothing. She looked from left to right, then back again, finally settling on a cream-colored knit dress. The fabric was soft, the thickness just right, and it fell just above her ankles.
The V-neck design revealed her collarbones without being too revealing, perfect for pairing with a delicate silver necklace adorned with a tiny round crystal.
Over the dress, she chose an oatmeal-colored cashmere coat—its soft hue complementing the cream white beautifully, creating a clean, polished look.
For shoes, she picked a pair of nude flats. She hesitated for a moment about wearing heels, but considering she’d be walking a lot at the art exhibition, she opted for flats instead.
She took the clothes down and laid them on the bed, then headed to the bathroom to freshen up.
After washing her face, she sat down at the vanity and began applying her makeup.
Qing Fang had spent over an hour on her makeup yesterday—Shen Qingyu had neither the patience nor the need for that today.
She simply applied a light layer of foundation, used an eyebrow pencil to subtly define her brows, and chose a very light earth-toned eyeshadow, sweeping it gently across her eyelids. The color was barely noticeable, just enough to add a hint of depth to her eyes. She curled her lashes and applied a thin coat of mascara. For blush, she selected a soft apricot shade, brushing it lightly onto her cheekbones to mimic a natural, healthy glow. Today, she switched to a lighter lipstick shade, one that closely matched her natural lip color, adding just a touch of subtle shine.
Once her makeup was done, she examined herself in the mirror. Her look was fresh and understated, her skin clear, and there was a natural, comfortable elegance in her features. Perfect.
For her hairstyle, she decided on a low bun. For earrings, she chose a pair of pearl studs again—but not the ones from last night. These were smaller, more understated, and elegant.
She stood before the full-length mirror for a final check, making sure every detail was in place.
Simple, comfortable, effortless, yet every detail showed care and thought.
Shen Qingyu nodded at her reflection, then turned and glanced at her phone.
Ten o’clock sharp. She still had an hour.
She sat on the sofa chair, picked up the book on economic law, and tried to focus on reading. But her gaze lingered on the same paragraph three times without absorbing a single word.
She put the book down, stood up, and walked to the window, glancing outside.
The weather in Jingbei today was better than yesterday—the sky was blue, and sunlight fell on the osmanthus tree in the yard, its bare branches casting crisscrossing shadows on the ground.
After standing there for a while, she returned to her book.
At exactly eleven o’clock, Shen Qingyu’s phone rang.
She picked it up and saw a message from Pei Huaijin on the screen.
“Miss Shen, I’ve arrived.”
Shen Qingyu took a deep breath, stood up, and went downstairs.
Manlin Jiang was sitting on the living room sofa, holding a cup of tea. Several documents were spread out on the coffee table in front of her, clearly indicating she was working. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, she looked up.
Shen Qingyu descended the stairs, the milky-white hem of her dress swaying gently with each step. Her nude flats made almost no sound on the wooden stairs. She walked steadily, unhurriedly, as if washed clean by the winter sunlight—pure, gentle, and radiant.
Manlin Jiang’s gaze swept from her daughter’s hair down to the tips of her shoes, and the corners of her mouth slowly curved upward.
“Huaijin is here?” she asked casually, though her eyes held an unmistakable satisfaction.
“Yes.” Shen Qingyu took the coat from her arm, preparing to put it on.
Manlin Jiang stood up, walked over to her, took the coat from her hands, and helped her unfold it, gesturing for her to turn around. Shen Qingyu obediently turned and slipped her arms into the sleeves.
“All set,” Manlin Jiang took a step back, looked her over from head to toe, and nodded with satisfaction. “Go on.”
“I’ll be off then,” Shen Qingyu said.
“Mm,” Manlin Jiang nodded, sitting back down on the sofa and picking up her teacup. Her tone was casual as she added, “Have a good time, no need to rush back.”
Shen Qingyu didn’t reply, turning instead toward the door.