Yue Xiaofang was talking when she noticed her little niece's gaze falling on her head.
She touched her hair.
Didn't find anything.
"What's wrong, Qingqing?"
Yue Qingqing looked for a moment but found that this wasn't necessarily a bad thing; it seemed more like—
She chuckled, "Auntie, you're pretty."
Yue Xiaofang's face turned red, "Already forty and still thinking about looking good."
The secretary beside her flattered, "I also think you, President Yue, look younger and younger, like my sister. People would believe we're around the same age."
Yue Xiaofang had no reaction to her words.
"Don't flatter me. You're only in your twenties, how could you compare?"
But the secretary didn't feel she was lying.
President Yue herself looks good, and her features don't show age.
In these past two years, as her career flourished, it seemed to nourish her as well, making her look vibrant.
Yue Qingqing also felt her aunt looked much more beautiful than the first time she saw her.
