After speaking, she closed her eyes, a rare weariness settling on her brow. She lay back in her chair, tilting her head slightly. Her ink-black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, save for the section pulled up and adorned with a peachwood hairpin. Her slender waist was cinched tight, the folds of her skirt billowing gently around her as she swayed slightly with the breeze. Two sashes hung from her waist, rippling in the wind.,There's a saying in Beijing to describe this street of pleasure: "Drunkenly Reclining Amidst Wind and Moon, Discussing Romantic Tales; A Half-Step into the Red House is Already Immoral.",Yi Suya looked very elegant and high-cold, but the adult Lan You rolled her eyes at him in a very unrefined way, disdainfully saying: "If you were my guest, you wouldn't even be able to get through this door."。