Qiao Shengli arrived even faster than Liu Jinghui.
The phone call was made at night, yet Qiao Shengli arrived in the morning. When she entered Building No. 9, her face was fully made up, complemented by a T-shirt and jeans—a youthful, irresistible vibe that left many middle-aged men momentarily stunned.
Miao Ruixiang couldn't help but whisper, "Even without makeup, she's so impeccably delicate. Rare, indeed."
Shen Yaowei, who was initially focused and indifferent, couldn't resist chiming in when he heard this, "Who told you she's without makeup?"
"Isn't she?" Miao Ruixiang froze for a moment, then carefully examined her again and murmured, "Did she put on mascara? But, she didn't put on lipstick."
Shen Yaowei almost choked from laughing, "Kid... You've only seen makeup on corpses, haven't you?"
"The corpses I've seen were beyond recognition." Miao Ruixiang paused, looked carefully at Qiao Shengli again, and murmured, "She really put on makeup?"
