After Miss Shang stepped down, there were actually no more thrilling acts. The spoiled scions present were still lost in the aftertaste and not interested in the performance on stage. When Li Qiyu walked onto the stage, she immediately provoked a wave of disdain.
She was dressed like a receptionist—a servant's clothes—so tasteless to appear on stage.
And she was wearing a vulgar golden mask.
If it wasn't for her tall figure and better-than-average skin, there would be nothing worth seeing.
Just how ugly must her face be if she's too ashamed to even show it? Could she possibly be a mature woman?
Li Qiyu's every move exuded an aristrocratic elegance, a kind that even if clad in coarse garments strolling through the countryside fields, still radiated a regal air that made the bland gazes linger on her for a few moments—
Just then, a round of hissing filled the room.