"My dear boys,"
"In this complex and ever-changing era,"
"if you still judge a person's true strength based solely on their clothes,"
"then you're truly far too outdated and narrow-minded."
Yumizakura's lips, luscious and vibrant as cherries, curled upward slightly,
forming a captivating smile.
Her voice was like a spring breeze gently strumming across harp strings,
laced with a cloying sweetness and enchanting charm that left one feeling weak and tingly.
It was as if an invisible, gentle hand had caressed their hearts, its touch spreading deep into their very souls.
Zheng Bolan and the other young men felt the strength drain from their legs,
which involuntarily went soft. The tingling sensation shot up from the soles of their feet, making them nearly lose their balance.
With just a single blink of her large, radiant, and expressive eyes, Yumizakura
could ensnare their souls and plunge their minds into instant chaos.
"That makes sense."
