NOVPUBAmong all the halos Yan had seen growing up, this was the first one so peculiar—not golden in color.
Instinctively, Yan sensed something amiss.
The hue felt undeniably ominous.
Her gaze shifted away from Lou Yun’s, as if their eyes had merely met by chance. Turning around, she walked to another sofa in the VIP room with Juejue.
In that brief moment, Yan sent a message to Lu Chen on her phone:
Confirmed. Lou Yun is definitely problematic.
But… they still had no idea what exactly was going on.
"Beautiful Red Envelope Group." Yan mulled over the five words in her mind.
"Beautiful" and "Red Envelope Group" were straightforward on their own. Combined, though, and considering the obvious transformation in Lou Yun, the implications weren’t hard to guess.
Lou Yun had obtained something that made her more "beautiful" from this group, turning her into what she was now.
The real question was—what exactly was inside those red envelopes, and where did they come from?
Since they didn’t actually know Lou Yun, uncovering the truth felt like grasping at smoke. Behind her veil, Yan frowned silently.
"Excuse me, miss." A voice as melodious as a nightingale’s suddenly rang out. Yan looked up abruptly.
There were only four people in the VIP room—Lou Yun was the one speaking.
"Is the fabric you’re wearing sijing hualuo?"
Her voice alone was a pleasure to hear, clear and soothing.
"If it’s inconvenient, you don’t have to answer."
None of the three had expected Lou Yun to initiate conversation. Yan controlled her voice, adopting a more mature, husky tone that matched the age her outfit suggested.
Back in high school, their hobby group had dabbled in voice acting, even taking formal lessons from professional dubbers during breaks. Though it had been a while since she last practiced, the foundation was still there.
"It is sijing hualuo," Yan replied curtly before falling silent, her demeanor indifferent.
The heat had led her to wear a set of xiangyunsha outerwear with a slip dress underneath—an ensemble some might call "old-fashioned."
Yan could feel Lou Yun’s gaze lingering on her, not on her face, but on the fabric of her clothes.
"It’s beautiful," Lou Yun praised, her voice like music.
"Thank you," Yan responded after a brief pause.
"My apologies if this is forward, but I simply can’t resist beautiful things. I had to ask," Lou Yun said politely.
"No offense taken. It’s human nature," Yan replied, still terse.
"Shopkeeper, isn’t it time for the new collection?" Lou Yun turned to Lu Chen.
Even through the veil, her eyes burned with eagerness.
Lou Yun had once told the shopkeeper that she adored all things beautiful—anything exquisite was worth her attention.
Though she had since stumbled upon greater fortunes far beyond what this humble boutique could offer, she hadn’t abandoned it.
This little shop was special. Its treasures—whether fine textiles, porcelain, garments, or those enigmatic, otherworldly items—always sparked inspiration in her.
Every time she left laden with finds, Lou Yun’s mind would whirl with fresh ideas.
Lou Yun was a fashion designer, obsessed with all things beautiful.
She commissioned custom furniture, designed her own home, and personally curated every plant in her studio.
Anything tied to beauty, she was eager to learn and explore.
Beauty was her fixation.
"That ugly girl of ours"—this was how Mother Lou had always referred to her in public.
So from a very young age, Lou Yun knew she was unattractive.
When her mother went shopping without her, Lou Yun would throw tantrums at home. The adults would say, "Little Yun isn’t pretty. Mom doesn’t like taking her out—it’s embarrassing."
Lou Yun remembered exactly what she looked like as a child.
Her skin was naturally dark, and her love for playing outdoors only deepened the tan. Combined with her inherited physique—eating heartily yet remaining scrawny—she was a far cry from the neighbor’s daughter, whom adults fawned over like a porcelain doll: fair, delicate, and endlessly doted on.
She hadn’t inherited Mother Lou’s double eyelids, large eyes, high nose bridge, or cherry lips. Instead, she bore her father’s strong genes—monolid, almond-shaped eyes, a sharp nose—with only her petite oval face and thick black hair resembling her mother’s.
As a child, blunt adults would openly remark, "The Lou girl looks just like her dad. How’s she ever going to marry looking like that?"
By school age, especially during the awkward years of adolescence, ill-mannered boys had no qualms labeling her the class "ugly girl."
There was a saying: "Fair skin hides three flaws." For the longest time, Lou Yun stopped carelessly playing outside under the sun.
She spent summers and winters cooped up indoors, hoping to lighten her complexion. When she did go out, she armored herself in sunscreen, drank honey-lemon water, and plastered cucumber slices on her face.
Her parents noticed, of course. At the dinner table, Mother Lou dismissed beauty as trivial: "What does looks matter? Grades are everything. Do you think teachers favor pretty faces or top marks?"
"I was pretty, and still ended up with your father."
Lou Yun never forgot her mother’s expression when she said that. She bit back her retort, but the implication was clear: You’re ugly, so you’d better rely on academics.
Lou Yun did pour herself into her studies. While the "pretty" girls coasted on charm, "top student" status at least earned her smiles from teachers and parents.
Yet deep down, she still yearned for beauty. After all, what came effortlessly to the lovely was a relentless grind for her.
"Beauty" had long since become her obsession.
The turning point came in high school, when she learned a new term: "high-fashion beauty."
A few middle-school classmates introduced her to the idea.
"Lou, have you seen that supermodel from our country? You look just like her! For us Xia people, your features are considered high-fashion—foreigners adore it."
Slanted eyes, monolids, tall frame, golden-dark skin—through another lens, these traits were suddenly "high-fashion," simply because they fit Western stereotypes of Asian allure.
But in the eyes of the masses, she remained the "ugly girl."
However, this trendy foreign aesthetic gave Lou Yun many insights. Her face had limited prospects domestically, but abroad, it might bring her some advantages.
By studying Asian supermodels—their outfits, runway walks, clothing, and makeup—Lou Yun grew increasingly fascinated by these things. She decided to pursue an artistic path, and her family provided the necessary support.
Father Lou was a small-time businessman with some money to spare, and coupled with Lou Yun’s excellent academic performance, she effortlessly entered an international high school in Bincheng. There, she used the resources to study art and eventually applied to the London College of Fashion.
Now, as an up-and-coming designer with a growing reputation, Lou Yun’s definition of "beauty" was both broad and narrow. She had long understood that everyone in this world had their own aesthetic standards—there was universally recognized beauty, and there was niche beauty.
Having studied abroad for years, she had heard countless people praise her as "beautiful." Her designs were beautiful, her clothes were beautiful, even her eyes, skin, and hair were beautiful.
But in Lou Yun’s heart, she didn’t believe it. With her upturned eyes and slightly dark complexion, she didn’t see herself as beautiful at all. Foreigners’ compliments came as easily as drinking water.
In the quiet of midnight, Lou Yun often thought of the neighbor’s doll-like girl—the very image she had dreamed of becoming. Perhaps her childhood longing had been too persistent, or perhaps fate had heard her prayers.
Lou Yun encountered two "opportunities."
The first was at her art school graduation exhibition, where she stumbled upon a wooden door. To her shock, it bore Chinese characters. She pushed it open and found herself in the "Dimensional Convenience Store."
In the days that followed, Lou Yun purchased many peculiar items from the store and incorporated them into her work.
The second opportunity came this year. Having spent so much time abroad, Lou Yun rarely met unfamiliar relatives. Now, as a "success," her proud father dragged her into family group chats like "Happy Big Family" and "Blessed Family," where she scattered red envelopes during the New Year.
She was also added to her high school class group by former classmates she hadn’t spoken to in years—all of whom were now wealthy.
Though Lou Yun was overseas, grabbing red envelopes gave her a sense of celebrating the New Year from afar. In the thrill of tapping the screen, she didn’t even notice what she had claimed—until she saw an unfamiliar group chat.
【Beauty Red Envelope Group】
【Congratulations! You have claimed "Vermilion Lips" 7-day trial card from Beauty No. 2.】
【Congratulations! You have claimed "Willow Waist" 1-day trial card from Grace No. 6.】
【Congratulations! You have claimed "Slender Eyebrows" 3-day trial card from Belle No. 7.】
At that moment, Lou Yun’s first thought was: Had she clicked on some virus-laden mini-program? Or was this a New Year’s game?
She exited the app and reopened it, only to find the "Beauty Red Envelope Group" still pinned at the top.
A completely new group chat, appearing out of nowhere, named "Beauty." Lou Yun’s heart raced—especially when she remembered the red envelope notifications.
Inside the group, she couldn’t see the total number of members. Even in the member list, only aliases like "Beauty No. 3," "Grace No. 6," and "Belle No. 2" were visible.
Her own nickname had already changed: Grace No. 9.
Lou Yun guessed that "Beauty," "Grace," and "Belle" might represent different tiers or ranks. Scrolling through the chat history, she only saw a notification: "You have been added to this group," with no indication of who had invited her. Based on the single-digit numbering, she assumed the group was small.
The chat interface was unlike any normal messaging app. Voice messages were disabled, and where emojis should have been, there was a red envelope icon. Next to it, a backpack symbol.
Lou Yun tapped the "backpack" and saw the items she had claimed: "Vermilion Lips," "Willow Waist," and "Slender Eyebrows."
They were marked as "Equippable," each with a different time limit.
At that moment, Lou Yun felt her heart stop.
Having visited the "Dimensional Convenience Store," she had already gained extraordinary, private benefits beyond ordinary imagination. So, faced with this "Beauty Red Envelope Group," Lou Yun accepted it almost without hesitation.
She thought, perhaps this was another gift from fate.
Lou Yun equipped "Vermilion Lips," "Willow Waist," and "Slender Eyebrows." Standing before the mirror, she watched as her naturally full lips, slightly thick waist, and sparse, faint eyebrows transformed.
Vermilion lips, a slender waist, and delicate brows—now truly hers.
It was like plastic surgery—no, even more miraculous, with no side effects!
She had really become beautiful.
Her once well-fitted jeans now gaped around her new "willow waist," leaving a fist-sized space. Staring at her now tiny waist in the mirror, Lou Yun finally understood the ancient saying, "The King of Chu adored slender waists."
Her lips, now a natural rosy red without any lipstick, parted and closed as she spoke to herself in the mirror. Her eyebrows, perfectly shaped, looked far better than anything she could ever draw.
Yet, flaws remained. Lou Yun’s complexion, even with foundation, still carried a yellowish-black tint. Her eyelids drooped slightly, and her small eyes seemed mismatched with her new features.
Her nose, ears, chin, and face shape—now, everything about her original appearance felt unworthy of her new "organs."
With her jeans now ill-fitting, Lou Yun quickly altered the waistband and admired her reflection with satisfaction.
She applied makeup—since she couldn’t change her eye shape, she used colored contacts, layered on mascara and eyeliner, and drew on aegyo-sal to enlarge her eyes.
Now, her eyes finally matched her eyebrows—though artificially.
Staring into the mirror, Lou Yun pondered what kind of eyes, nose, and other features would best suit her new face.
A day later, her "willow waist" expired.
With only a one-day trial, Lou Yun compared photos of her altered waist to her natural one—the difference was staggering.
Three days later, her "slender eyebrows" vanished, leaving behind her sparse, shapeless natural brows.
Seven days later, her "vermilion lips" disappeared. Lou Yun couldn’t accept it.
During these days, though the Beauty Red Envelope Group had more red envelopes, they were either sent while she slept or in such limited quantities that she couldn’t grab any.
She could see the contents—"Almond Eyes," "Jade-Like Hands"—and it made her crave them even more.
Even if this beauty was temporary, she wanted more. She wanted it to last.
Was the "willow waist" only a one-day trial because it came from a "Grace"? Were the higher-tier "Beauty" and "Belle" red envelopes longer-lasting?
Especially those "vermilion lips" from the beauty—for a full seven days, Lou Yun found herself lost in wild thoughts.
On the eighth day of joining the glamorous red envelope group, Lou Yun sent her first message in the chat.
【Beauty No.9】: May I ask all you lovely ladies, where do you all get your beautiful bags from?
