The beautiful woman, with a face like a blooming flower, now swollen like a pig's head, looked utterly disheveled. The forlorn elegance of a beauty battered by rain was absent, and yet Feng Zhanfang remained oblivious, feeling only the burning pain on her cheeks, fearing she had ruined everything, instinctively covering her face as tears welled in her eyes.
Tears from a beauty, delicate enough to make one's heart tremble.
If this were in the Central Plains, the term "Yan'er Mei" would easily describe her, evoking phrases like enchanting floral fragrance, or afternoon naps with supportive pillows. All are verses praising beauties and beautiful scenes.
But seeing a pig head attempting to act coquettishly would really make one vomit last night's meal.
