Ye Yiyi and Tang Coco stepped onto the shopping promenade, late sun pooling like warm milk across pale tiles.

They wore dresses cut from the same thought, mirrored patterns stitched in quiet symmetry.

White fabric clung like dew on porcelain skin, gold motifs resting left on Tang Coco’s shoulder and right on Ye Yiyi’s.

Tang Coco had no idea when Ye had conjured these pieces, like drawing silk from air.

Both were tall and willow-slim, a pair that drew eyes like birds to bright fruit.

Hand in hand, they flowed through the river of people, sunglasses dark as still ponds that kept curiosity at bay.

“Are those two sisters? Wearing the same dress… they’re stunning,” a voice drifted, like breeze through leaves.

“Yeah, jealous, right? Both figures are perfect,” another voice hummed, a low ripple of awe.

“Yiyi, where are we going?” Tang Coco asked, her words light as a feather plucked mid-step.

“Follow me. I’ve got a place,” Ye Yiyi said, a smile tucked away like a hidden ember.

After a short walk, they reached the sixth floor of a lavish mall, glass and chrome flashing like fish scales in sun.

“Welcome,” a soft chorus greeted them, and a clerk approached with practiced calm.

“Mm. Is Aunt Qin in?” Ye Yiyi asked, taking off her shades, her gaze clean as fresh snow.

Clerks here read faces like weather; Ye’s look and tone sketched her as a rich young lady in a single stroke.

Asking for Manager Qin marked her as an insider, a bell rung behind velvet.

“Please wait. I’ll inform Manager Qin.”

“Thanks.” Ye turned, her voice gentle as silk. “Hold on a sec.”

“Okay.” Tang Coco slipped off her sunglasses, her face too beautiful to argue with, like moonlight laid bare.

Eyes turned, a tide pulled by silver, but the store wasn’t crowded, and Ninghai’s clientele wore polish and power like second skin.

They didn’t gape; they glanced, then settled, like birds on quiet branches.

Tang Coco looked around at the racks, a forest of fabric from head to toe, from inner silk to outer wool.

“Yiyi… maybe you buy, I’ll watch,” she murmured, her heart shrinking like a snail into its shell.

“No. You need to adapt. You can’t keep running,” Ye Yiyi said, firm as a bamboo stake.

“But…”

“Relax. I knew you’d get nervous, so I called someone.”

“Who?” Tang Coco asked, a flicker in her eyes, and a voice rang out behind them.

“Yiyi!”

“There,” Ye Yiyi tilted her chin, a spark pointing north.

Tang Coco turned, expecting a stranger, and found Li Muyan, red dress bright as a lacquered flower.

A black silk ribbon hugged her waist, tied at the hip like a bloom at dusk.

“Why are you here? Didn’t your dad call you home?” Tang Coco asked, suspicion pricking like a thorn.

“Uh…” Li Muyan stalled, words snagged like thread.

“Don’t listen to her,” Ye Yiyi cut in, calm as a fan’s sweep. “She ran back to her villa yesterday to dodge Mu Qingcheng.”

“Really? The fearless Li Muyan scared of Mu Qingcheng?” Tang Coco scoffed, a spark tossed at dry straw.

“Heh. You don’t know her other face,” Li Muyan smiled, a knife wrapped in red silk. “Besides, who was screaming yesterday, all fired up?”

“You—!”

“Alright, alright. Too many eyes,” Ye Yiyi soothed, smoothing the ripples like a hand over water.

“Little one, shop in peace,” Li Muyan said, teasing warmth like sunlight on stone. “If you don’t fix your style, I won’t let you go home.”

“Tch.” Tang Coco clicked her tongue, her defiance a small flame stubborn in wind.

Laughter bubbled behind them, bright as spring water. “Youth is such a blessing.”

“Ah, Aunt Qin.” Ye Yiyi stepped forward, greeting with a bow of light.

She looked thirty-something, dressed with quiet taste, her presence smooth as polished jade.

“Mm. Little Yiyi, long time no see. You’ve grown prettier,” Aunt Qin said, her smile warm as tea.

“Oh, stop, Aunt Qin,” Ye Yiyi laughed, modesty folding like a paper crane. “Don’t tease.”

“Muyan is here too,” Aunt Qin turned, eyes soft.

“Hello, Aunt Qin,” Li Muyan greeted, a red petal in motion.

“Yiyi, aren’t you going to introduce this little beauty?” Aunt Qin’s gaze settled on Tang Coco, gentle as dusk light.

“Oh. Aunt Qin, this is Tang Coco, my… sister,” Ye Yiyi said, the pause a pebble dropped in a clear pond.

“Oh? Let me see. Such a lovely face,” Aunt Qin smiled, approval blooming like magnolia.

“Coco,” Li Muyan leaned in, voice playful as wind, “Aunt Qin’s a famous fashion designer.”

“Hello, Aunt Qin,” Tang Coco said, sweet as fruit freshly cut.

“Mm. I’ll call you Coco,” Aunt Qin nodded, simple as a ribbon tied true.

“Okay.”

“Aunt Qin, please help Coco with a few looks today,” Ye Yiyi asked, holding Aunt Qin’s arm like a handrail in rain. “She doesn’t really dress herself.”

“No problem. With such a good seedling, I’ll tend her carefully,” Aunt Qin said, gardener’s pride glinting like dew.

“Come with me.” She led the way, calm as a path through bamboo, and Tang Coco followed, steps light.

Ye Yiyi and Li Muyan drifted into the racks, picking pieces with eyes like hawks.

“Coco, you’re not from Ninghai, are you?” Aunt Qin asked, voice steady as a metronome.

“Mm.”

“I thought so. If Ninghai had a girl this pretty, the circle would have known,” she said, certainty firm as stone.

“You feel gentle to me,” Aunt Qin continued, kindness a shawl over the shoulders. “Guard yourself. Ninghai’s waters run deep, and Yiyi and the others can’t always be your boat.”

“I’ll be careful,” Tang Coco said, gratitude soft as evening mist. “You feel warm and kind too.”

“Haha. Only Yiyi and the girls still call me Aunt Qin,” she smiled, time tucked kindly at her eyes. “I’m almost fifty.”

“Really? You look so young,” Tang Coco blinked, surprise bright as a bell.

“You little ones, sweet tongues like candy,” Aunt Qin laughed, a tinkling chime.

“Alright, we’ll use this fitting room,” she said, guiding her to a space decorated like a small garden.

“I’ll close the door. Try things in peace,” her voice settled like a blanket.

“Oh… okay,” Tang Coco answered, obedient as a sparrow on a branch.

“First, take these off. I’ll measure you,” Aunt Qin said, practical as a tailor’s chalk.

“Ah…” Tang Coco’s cheeks flushed, peach-petal pink spreading warm.

“Hahaha. With an old aunt like me, what’s there to be shy about?” Aunt Qin chuckled, sound round as a drum.

“Okay…” Tang Coco whispered, and she slowly undressed, movements quiet as falling silk.