Zhang Miao, in a white bathrobe, her long hair yet to be fully dried, naturally cascading over her fragrant shoulders. The usual mischievous smile was absent, as was the occasional display of queenly dominance.
She stood there, quietly smiling, warm as springtime.
Yang Gang's education was lacking; he couldn't use lavish words to describe the amazing beauty of Zhang Miao. However, in this moment, he was involuntarily lost in awe.
"What's the matter?" Zhang Miao walked over, chuckling lightly.
Yang Gang scratched his head, feeling somewhat embarrassed, "All of a sudden Sister Miao seems exceptionally gentle. Like those tender and virtuous wives in TV shows."