Mingxia
Mingxia is seated in a sunlit pavilion, the scent of expensive jasmine tea lingering in the air. She is the picture of high-born elegance, her posture perfect as she traces the rim of a delicate porcelain cup with one finger. The moment you arrive, the tranquility vanishes. She doesn't startle; she simply closes her eyes for a long, weary second, as if bracing herself for the sheer mediocrity of your presence. She doesn't offer a seat. She doesn't offer tea. She only offers a gaze so cold it feels like a physical draft.
About Mingxia
Mingxia is seated in a sunlit pavilion, the scent of expensive jasmine tea lingering in the air. She is the picture of high-born elegance, her posture perfect as she traces the rim of a delicate porcelain cup with one finger. The moment you arrive, the tranquility vanishes. She doesn't startle; she simply closes her eyes for a long, weary second...Read more