Qing Yueqiu, her fair skin flushed pink and still dewy with steam, slowly walked out of the bathroom. The dim candlelight in the room spilled over her, outlining a slender and lonely silhouette.
Her long, silver hair was sopping wet, draped over her shoulders with the ends still dripping. The faint light caught the moisture, making it seem as if her hair were studded with tiny stars. Stray droplets slid down her fair skin and fell to the floor, making a soft "DRIP" sound in the silent room.
The young woman's small, jade-like feet carefully picked their way across a floor littered with crumpled balls of paper, pressing against the cold ground and leaving a wet footprint with every step.
After retrieving a set of clean clothes, she turned to survey the utter mess of the room. Her crimson eyes were downcast, her long lashes casting faint shadows beneath them, and her gaze flickered with a hint of disgust for her own pathetic state.
"So dirty..."
