Su Muyao walked to the door and saw Yun Qinglan there.
Today, Yun Qinglan was not wearing his usual white attire, but instead donned a lake-blue brocade robe, embroidered with cloud patterns at the hem and adorned with a jade belt, making him appear even more like a noble and graceful figure, exuding an aura of clarity and serenity.
A gentle breeze blew, making the cloud patterns on the hem of his attire flutter like moving clouds, faint yet visible, regal yet restrained.
This gave him an aesthetic of post-rain brightness and a picturesque, carefree essence.
This was different from his usual demeanor.
Yet it appeared even more gentle and transcendent.
No longer wearing his white cloak—it seemed he was no longer afraid of the cold.
"Young Master Yun, you've come."
"Miss Su, it's been a while. Qinglan has come unannounced and disturbed you; I apologize for the inconvenience."
