It had taken some work, but Jiao had made what she thought might be one of her finest dresses yet. It was a pale pink, long and heavy, fell on curves flatteringly; gold embroidery covered it in fine flowers and vines that traced the collar and hem of the skirt. If she hadn't agreed to give it away from the start, she would have kept it for herself.
But it was to be sold, for a little bit of tea. Honestly, she regretted the deal a little now, but she was a woman of her word, so she went to the clinic, a wooden box in her arms, and knocked.
When Phoebe answered, she would hold up the box. "Hello! I have a delivery. I want you to try it on."
Jiao
And the bittersweet of every new defeat
Is I'm stronger than before
