Chapter 63:

Taking a deep breath, Qian Fangyuan gathered her thoughts and said, “Zhaodi has been getting very close to a guy recently. They often study together, eat meals together, and he’s always been very nice to her. All this time, Zhaodi thought he liked her, and they sort of silently acknowledged their feelings. I’ve heard Zhaodi talk about him, and I always felt something was missing—a proper confession. In my opinion, matters of the heart shouldn’t be left ambiguous. Just because both sides assume something doesn’t mean it’s settled. So, I encouraged Zhaodi to be brave. In the end, she made up her mind to take the initiative. Today, she found an opportunity to confess to him, but—can you believe it?—that jerk actually said he doesn’t like her! And then he had the nerve to say, ‘How could someone who looks like you have the courage to confess to me?’ I swear, I’ve never seen anything like it. With his face full of acne, that scrawny, dark figure of his—where does he get the audacity to criticize Zhaodi? She’s way better-looking than him! If Zhaodi didn’t care about appearances, his face alone would be enough to scare anyone off. How could anyone possibly like him?”

Qian Fangyuan wasn’t done venting. She clenched her fists and added angrily, “No, we can’t just let this slide. Next time I see him, I’m going to give that jerk a piece of my mind. He needs to know Zhaodi isn’t someone he can mess with!”

Bo Pengpeng was just as fiery. In her world, she was the one who dished out disdain, not the one who took it. As far as she was concerned, no one got to walk away unscathed.

She briefly considered encouraging Miao Zhaodi to seek revenge herself, but knowing Zhaodi’s personality, that was unlikely. Glancing at Zhaodi’s appearance, an idea struck her. “Let’s give Zhaodi a makeover. Honestly, her features aren’t bad, and her figure’s decent. It’s just her dark, rough skin and plain clothes that make people overlook her real beauty. Nowadays, everyone’s a visual creature—if you look good, people naturally warm up to you. A pretty face doesn’t just please the eye; it also boosts confidence. Right now, Zhaodi’s still insecure. If she had more confidence, she could’ve shut that jerk down on the spot—maybe even punched him!”

Admittedly, Bo Pengpeng’s idea was a good one.

Ever since entering university, Miao Zhaodi had lived under the weight of others’ prejudice—whether because of her looks or her humble background.

Some people hid it better, especially around roommates like Qin Chaoyu, Bo Pengpeng, and Qian Fangyuan. But those who didn’t bother to conceal their disdain looked at her as if she were trash, quickly averting their eyes as if afraid of contamination.

For a long time, Zhaodi had been lost. She couldn’t understand why her classmates looked down on her just because she was poor. Did personal ability have anything to do with family background?

Sometimes, she even felt resentful.

What gave them the right to scorn her? Were their futures guaranteed to be better than hers? For all they knew, they might end up worse off than her someday!

With that stubborn defiance, Zhaodi ignored the condescending stares, throwing herself into her studies with relentless determination. She believed education was her only way out, just as it had been when she first left the mountains.

She tried to mask her hurt with indifference, pretending the disdainful glances didn’t affect her. Maintaining her fragile pride was her last line of defense.

But ignoring something didn’t make it disappear. Emotional violence was far harder to endure than physical harm.

Slowly, Zhaodi’s confidence eroded. She feared the day her friends would abandon her, and that fear turned her into a people-pleaser, timidly clinging to the friendships she’d worked so hard to build—even if it meant swallowing her own grievances.

That guy had probably sensed her vulnerability, taking her kindness for granted without a second thought. He might not even care about today’s rejection, assuming Zhaodi would just brush it off and stay friends.

Of course, a makeover wasn’t a cure-all, but for someone who’d just been insulted over her appearance, it was the quickest way to rebuild her confidence.

By now, Qin Chaoyu had pieced together the whole story. She hadn’t been aware of Zhaodi’s struggles—she’d been too preoccupied with Madam Xiong’s treatment and had unintentionally neglected her roommate.

Feeling guilty, she volunteered to take charge of improving Zhaodi’s skin. “I’ll handle Zhaodi’s skincare. I have a lot of homemade beauty products based on secret recipes—treasures passed down for years.”

Qian Fangyuan and Bo Pengpeng had used Qin Chaoyu’s homemade skincare before. During military training, they’d relied on her sunscreen, which not only kept them from tanning but actually made them fairer. They’d been thrilled.

So when Qin Chaoyu offered her homemade products, they were fully on board.

Qian Fangyuan grinned. “Chaoyu, we were waiting for you to say that. When it comes to skin, no one in our dorm comes close to yours.”

Bo Pengpeng, ever the beauty enthusiast, piped up, “Chaoyu, don’t forget about me—I want some too!”

“I won’t forget you,” Qin Chaoyu said, rolling her eyes before turning to Zhaodi.

She sat across from her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Zhaodi, what do you think? Are you willing to let me try?”

Zhaodi didn’t answer, her head still bowed, but her hands on her lap slowly clenched into fists.

Qin Chaoyu didn’t push her.

Zhaodi was locked in an internal battle. Should she accept this offer? What if, instead of salvation, it led her off a cliff?

Right now, she couldn’t bear the fall from hope to despair.

Finally, she took a deep breath and looked up, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Staring straight at Qin Chaoyu, she said solemnly, “Chaoyu, I want to be beautiful. I don’t want to endure their scorn anymore.”

Qin Chaoyu’s heart ached. She leaned forward and hugged Zhaodi tightly. “I know. I understand. Trust me.”

Letting go, she stood and walked to her medicine chest, rummaging through it.

When it came to skincare, Qin Chaoyu had absolute confidence.

Her sect had countless beauty-enhancing secret recipes, likely left behind by predecessors—after all, the pursuit of beauty was timeless.

Qin Chaoyu loved beauty too, which was why she’d explored so many of these recipes. Back in the mountains, she’d often experimented with different concoctions. With her spatial storage preserving them, she’d accumulated quite the collection.

The sect’s recipes covered everything—hair, face, hands—leaving no part of the body untouched.

Normally, she kept her products in her spatial storage, retrieving them as needed. Now, she pretended to search her medicine chest to maintain the illusion for Bo Pengpeng and Qian Fangyuan.

After some theatrical digging, she pulled out several small ceramic jars, each no larger than her palm. They were oval-shaped, clearly part of a matching set, with smooth white surfaces adorned by simple ink landscapes. The most striking feature was the large character inscribed on each, occupying a quarter of the jar’s surface in elegant clerical script.

Qin Chaoyu lined up ten jars neatly on the table.

Bo Pengpeng leaned in eagerly. “So these are your homemade skincare products? These jars are gorgeous.”

Zhaodi stared at them curiously.

Were these really the things that could change her?

Qin Chaoyu smiled. “Yes, I had these jars custom-made. But enough about the containers—the real stars are what’s inside.”

Bo Pengpeng nodded eagerly. “Right, right! Tell us about the contents!”

Qin Chaoyu smirked. “I’ll keep you in suspense for now. No matter how much I praise them, seeing is believing.”

Bo Pengpeng and Qian Fangyuan were disappointed but didn’t press further, resigning themselves to waiting for the magic to unfold.

Over the next month, Bo Pengpeng and Qian Fangyuan witnessed an astonishing transformation.

Zhaodi’s once-dry, yellowish hair became glossy and black. Her rough, sallow skin turned fair and smooth. The change was nothing short of miraculous.

Now, Zhaodi could easily be called a beauty.

The only thing still lacking was her wardrobe, but Bo Pengpeng saw that as a non-issue.

Zhaodi’s plain clothes were a habit from her upbringing—no one had ever taught her about fashion. So Bo Pengpeng took her on a shopping spree (not to buy for her, knowing Zhaodi wouldn’t accept charity, but to expose her to stylish options).

She drilled into Zhaodi that girls should dress well—saving money was fine, but never at the cost of self-respect.

By the end, the old Zhaodi was gone. In her place stood a confident, optimistic young woman, her former gloom and insecurity replaced by quiet strength.

Qin Chaoyu was deeply satisfied. She was glad she could help change her roommate’s life.

During that month, Qin Chaoyu hadn’t just focused on Zhaodi—she’d also continued treating Madam Xiong.

Under her care, Madam Xiong’s health improved daily. After two months, she was nearly fully recovered.

With her physical health restored, her spirits lifted. The bold, cheerful Jin Wenqing had returned.

Grateful to Qin Chaoyu, Madam Xiong sang her praises unreservedly.

Once she was well enough, she sent word to her family in the capital. Her brother, who’d been deeply worried, rushed to Yuzhou immediately.