"Uncle Ming, I'm back."
The man's long, silky-smooth black hair swayed as he moved. His pair of affectionate peach blossom eyes flashed with the soft light.
His translucent skin was slightly pale, but it gave him a sense of being aesthetically beautiful, like a sick and gentle beauty.
Sima Ke Xin, in this white hanfu that was as pure as the fallen snow, showed up as soon as Shenlian Yingyue finished paying the spirit stones.
Speaking of which, Shenlian Yingyue always wondered why his skin was so translucent. Was he sick?
Uncle Ming's face turned pale. He looked at Shenlian Yingyue, who had just come down from the second floor.
"Are you here to buy clothes?" Sima Ke Xin didn't notice Uncle Ming's pale face.
He was surprised to see her.
"Yes."