The man leaned casually against the back of a low stool, his deep gaze falling upon her, "Don't like it?"
"I wouldn't say that." Li Qiao, holding a teapot to refill tea, glanced at him, "I've never worn a cheongsam, and there isn't really any occasion for me to wear one."
Shang Yu's thin lips curved up in a meaningful arc, reaching over the low table to hook her fingers, "Never worn one, you say?"
Li Qiao unconsciously thought to shake her head, but suddenly, a scene flashed through her mind, and she fell silent.
On the day of the engagement banquet, she seemed to have worn a wine-red gown styled like a cheongsam.
Yes, wine-red.
What had he said back then?
It was too beautiful.
Li Qiao licked the corner of her mouth, narrowing her eyes, and regarded him with scrutiny, "You want me to wear a cheongsam all the time from now on?"
Shang Yu slowly shook his head, "Only at home."
