Upstairs, Shen Qingyu finally crawled out from under the covers.
She took a shower and changed into comfortable clothes. By the time she went downstairs, it was nearly ten.
Auntie Liu warmed up some porridge and shrimp dumplings for her. Shen Qingyu sat at the dining table and ate slowly. Jiang Manlin had gone to the law firm and said she wouldn’t be back until two that afternoon. Shen Huaiting was on the phone in his study. His voice drifted faintly through the house as he arranged the afternoon’s handover.
After breakfast, Shen Qingyu took the honey water Auntie Liu had poured for her and sat daydreaming on the living-room sofa.
The sky outside was still overcast. That was what winter in Jingbei was like: the sun was a rare sight, and everything was cold gray.
She took out her phone and checked the address for tonight: the Pei family’s private club, in the eastern part of the city, about half an hour’s drive from her home.
At three thirty in the afternoon, the doorbell rang.
Auntie Liu went to answer it. A woman in her early thirties came in, followed by a young assistant carrying two large cases. Her name was Fang Qing, a well-known stylist in Jingbei’s social circles and an old friend of Jiang Manlin’s.
“Sister Jiang.” Fang Qing smiled as soon as she came in and quickly slipped off her shoes, changing into the slippers. “There was a bit of traffic on the way. I haven’t kept you waiting long, have I?”
“No, it’s fine.” Jiang Manlin rose from the sofa. “Qingyu’s upstairs. I’ll take you to her.”
As they went upstairs, Shen Qingyu was sitting at her bedroom vanity, her hair loose over her shoulders. Dressed in comfortable clothes, she had her legs crossed and was looking at her phone. At the knock, she looked up. Seeing the stylist come in with her mother, she instinctively sat up straight.
“Qingyu, you can call her Sister Fang,” Jiang Manlin introduced her. “I told you about her. She’ll do your look for tonight.”
“Hello, Sister Fang.” Shen Qingyu smiled, putting on a well-behaved expression.
Fang Qing gave her a professional once-over, assessing her. She had met plenty of young socialites, but this one was a little different. Even bare-faced, her skin was exceptionally clear, and her features were fresh and refined. There was a scholarly air about her eyes and brows; she looked lovely without a trace of makeup. But tonight’s occasion called for polish.
“You have such a lovely natural canvas,” Fang Qing complimented her. “Your skin’s holding up this well despite the jet lag. You must take good care of it.”
“Just the basics,” Shen Qingyu said.
“Then let’s start with your makeup.” Fang Qing opened one of the cases, revealing rows of neatly arranged cosmetics. “Sister Jiang, do you have a particular style in mind, or should I decide?”
Jiang Manlin leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, and thought for a moment. “Just make her look elegant and poised. Not too bare, but not too heavy, either. She’s young. If the makeup’s too light, she won’t have enough presence; if it’s too heavy, she’ll look frivolous. I’ll leave the rest to you.”
Fang Qing nodded, then turned to Shen Qingyu. “All right, let’s get started.”
The makeup took longer than Shen Qingyu had expected.
Fang Qing began with a full skincare routine, layering on toner, serum, moisturizer, sunscreen, and primer, one after another, with the patience of someone applying paint. Then came the foundation. She blended it out with a brush, then patted it evenly into the skin with a damp sponge. She dabbed concealer under Shen Qingyu’s eyes, covering every trace of the dark circles left by the jet lag.
“Your brows have a lovely shape. There’s no need to do much—just tidy them up.” As she spoke, Fang Qing traced Shen Qingyu’s natural brow shape with a pencil, lifting the arches ever so slightly. It gave her a touch more edge than she had without makeup.
The eye makeup took the longest. Fang Qing chose a palette of warm browns, laying down a light shade first, then blending a darker one at the outer corners. Finally, she dabbed a little shimmer at the center of the lids, giving Shen Qingyu’s eyes depth without making them look overdone. She drew a very fine line of eyeliner, extending it just a little at the outer corners. After curling the lashes, she applied two coats of mascara. Each lash was distinct, fanning out like a little fan.
“You have beautiful eyes,” Fang Qing said, stepping back to check the effect. “Your double eyelids are defined, and your eyes are long. There’s no need for heavy makeup—just a little emphasis on their shape is enough.”
She swept a soft apricot-pink blush over Shen Qingyu’s cheekbones, as if the color came naturally from beneath her skin. For lipstick, she chose a muted rose shade, applied a thin layer, had Shen Qingyu press her lips together, then gently blotted away the excess with a tissue, leaving behind a soft, lasting tint.
“All done. Take a look,” Fang Qing said with a smile.
Shen Qingyu stared at herself in the mirror and paused.
The makeup wasn’t heavy, but every detail was just right. Her features were still her own, yet her whole appearance seemed to have brightened. It wasn’t the grand, dressed-up look of someone attending a ball; it was understated, polished, and refined. She looked as if this was simply how she normally looked—only today, she was having an especially good day.
“This looks beautiful,” Shen Qingyu said sincerely.
Fang Qing smiled. “Next, your hair. You’ll look even more beautiful once that’s done.”
Doing her hair was a little quicker than doing her makeup.
Fang Qing didn’t pin it up. Instead, she used a large curling iron to give Shen Qingyu a few loose waves, starting below the ears and curling down to the ends. Once she was done, she gently separated them with her fingers, making the curls look more natural and relaxed, then sprayed a little hairspray on the ends.
“You have a small face, and if you leave all your hair down, the look will be too soft. I’ll pin some of it back.” Fang Qing took a pair of pearl hair clips from her case and pinned the hair on Shen Qingyu’s right side behind her ear, revealing the line of her neck.
Shen Qingyu looked at herself in the mirror and suddenly felt a little like a stranger.
A beautiful kind of stranger.
“Right, makeup and hair are done.” Fang Qing clapped her hands. “What dress would you like to wear? Let me take a look.”
Jiang Manlin took the pale yellow dress from the wardrobe door and handed it to Fang Qing.
Fang Qing looked it over and nodded.
“Pale yellow can be hard to wear, but your daughter has fair skin, so it’ll bring out her complexion.” She held the dress up against Shen Qingyu. “The cut is right, too. It’s fitted at the waist but not tight, and the hem hits at the knee, showing off her calves. Elegant without making her look older.”
The dress had a fluid drape and caught the light with a soft sheen. Its round neckline showed just the right amount of collarbone. The sleeves were slightly puffed, tapering at the cuffs to make her arms look slender. A narrow belt in the same shade could be tied into a simple bow at the waist.
“Go try it on.” Fang Qing handed her the dress.
Shen Qingyu took it into the dressing room and changed. When she came out, Fang Qing was sorting through the things in her case. She looked up at Shen Qingyu and paused, her hands still.
“Wow. You look beautiful,” Fang Qing said, her sincerity clear in her voice. “You really do.”
The pale yellow made her skin look even fairer, and the dress followed her figure in a smooth, natural line. Its hem fell at her knees, revealing her straight calves. With a pair of nude or pale apricot heels, the whole look would come together beautifully.
“What about shoes?” Fang Qing asked.
Jiang Manlin took a pair of nude stiletto heels from the shoe cabinet. They had heels about seven centimeters high and a small metal ornament on the front—simple and elegant.
“These,” Jiang Manlin said.
Fang Qing took a look and nodded. “The color goes well with the dress, and the heel height is right. They’ll be stable to walk in.”
Shen Qingyu sat down, put on the shoes, and stood up to take a couple of steps. Seven-centimeter heels weren’t especially high; she was used to wearing them, and walked naturally.
“What about accessories?” Fang Qing asked.
“Let me see.” Jiang Manlin opened the jewelry box and rummaged through it, then took out a pair of small pearl earrings and a very fine necklace with a large diamond pendant.
“Just these. Nothing too complicated.” Jiang Manlin handed the earrings and necklace over. “She’s young. Simple will look better.”
Fang Qing took the earrings and helped Shen Qingyu put them on. The pearls were small, catching the light with a gentle glow against her earlobes. Once the necklace was fastened, the diamond rested perfectly in the hollow of her collarbone, complementing the earrings.
“Perfect.” Fang Qing stepped back two paces and looked Shen Qingyu over. “Absolutely perfect. Elegant, poised, polished—not showy, but impossible to overlook. You’ll be the star of the evening.”
Shen Qingyu looked at herself in the mirror and suddenly felt as if it weren’t quite real.
The woman in the mirror was her, and yet somehow not quite her.
Jiang Manlin stood behind her, her gaze full of pride, relief, and wistfulness.
“Good,” Jiang Manlin said. “This is it.”