Chapter 19: Chapter 20 Makeup
Jima was almost drowning in the vast sea of books. Three stacks of books piled on the desk felt like three great mountains pressing down on her frail back, nearly crushing her.
“Really too much!” Jima threw down her quill, lifted her head, and her golden eyes sparkled with anger. “You scoundrels, don’t think just because I look like a helpless little silver girl now, I can’t take revenge.”
Now, Jima was even more determined to NTR George, to sabotage their relationship and snatch the pure and lovely holy maiden for herself. In a burst of energy, she stood up, walked step by step toward her suitcase, lifted it up, placed it on the bed, and opened it to reveal a stack of little skirts.
For a succubus, little skirts are like armor, a guarantee of victory. Today, Jima intended to dress beautifully, ruin the holy maiden’s ulterior motives at her birthday party, and damage the bond between the two.
She picked up a red-black pleated short skirt, glanced at it from top to bottom. She imagined in her mind what she would look like in this outfit.
Jima had no understanding of women’s fashion; she could only look at it from a man’s perspective.
露锁骨 and 腿表小都, seemed quite nice, so this would do.
She placed the short dress aside, picked up a pair of black tights with simple silver thread patterns.
“Theoretically, a short girl like me, flat-chested and with a pure face, should wear white stockings. I’ve heard that black makes one look slimmer, while my limbs are already skinny, as thin as a straw.” Jima muttered to herself, glancing at the white stockings nearby.
“But I like black stockings! Nothing beats black, it’s sexy.”
As she spoke, Jima lowered her head and saw her slightly heaving chest, recalling the humiliation of being patted by George earlier. She raised her long leg, placing it on the bed, letting her hand slide down the contour of her thigh, grazing her firm calf.
“A short girl with no meat is worth nothing but cuteness.”
Jima sighed, thinking of the holy maiden Jenna’s rounded peaks. They gave her an air of nobility, adding a touch of sexiness, and this touch of sexiness, under the complement of her noble aura, stirred up men’s boundless, corrupt desires for pure white.
Well, at least that’s what Jima thought.
For the first time in her life, she felt enormous pressure because of a pair of breasts.
Jima picked up the white stockings, imagining Jenna and herself standing before her and wondering whom she would choose.
Without hesitation, she would dive straight into Jenna’s soft chest.
She gritted her teeth and said, “Cuteness is worthless in front of sexiness.”
Jima tossed the white stockings aside, took the black tights, and declared, “If I don’t take revenge for this grudge, I’m no gentleman.”
After pondering for a bit, she finally decided on pairing the black tights with the black pleated short skirt.
Once dressed, she looked at her reflection in the mirror, raised her leg, bringing her calf up to her forehead, gripping it with one hand, her flexible body taut, exuding a powerful beauty.
“It should be fine.” Jima lowered her leg and said, “At least if I encounter this black-haired girl on the street, I would definitely snatch her away, drag her to a secluded place, lift her short skirt, and do bad things.”
With her outfit set, what about makeup?
Jima knew that makeup can greatly enhance a woman’s appearance. In her past life, she had known a bit about makeup—how to create shadows that made her nose appear higher, using magical cosmetics to fill in the pits and make her face look smooth, applying a light blush to give her cheeks the appearance of ripe peaches.
She couldn’t help but wonder if licking her lips would make her tongue bitter.
“But I don’t know how to do makeup at all.” Jima pressed her forehead against the mirror, her first time observing her face so carefully.
Her facial skin was smooth, without any pits. It was the first time she noticed that there were no large, clogged pores filled with unknown black substances on her nose.
“Good thing I’m not human, so I don’t have the troubles of mortals.”
Jima scanned her face and noticed a few imperfections. There was a bit of eye drool in the corner of her eye, some oil in the fine cracks on her face, and dirt smeared across it.
“I should go wash my face properly.”
Jima stepped outside, scooped some water from the water jar and splashed it on her face, took half a bar of soap that George had left, lathered her hands, and thoroughly washed her face. Then, using the towel neatly hung by George, she dried her face.
Afterward, her face felt much fresher. Jima hung up George’s white towel and recalled the three towering mountains on her desk, purposely tugging on the towel to let it hang askew.
That virgin’s obsessive-compulsive disorder must be suffering greatly.
As Jima thought about it, she stood the soap upright.
Returning to her room, she looked at her reflection again. She felt a little better, though still not as good as holy maiden Jenna.
Her gaze fell upon her cascading black hair. She gathered it with both hands, contemplating hairstyles, but couldn’t think of anything significant. The only style she could do was a ponytail.
During her “bride training” in Shalin City, the focus had been primarily on bed techniques and dancing. They didn’t even teach them how to style their hair, as the reason was simple—time was tight, and most importantly, as the flower of Shalin City and a high-ranking slave, there was no need to do their own hair when there were maids to help.
That’s right, when you buy a flower of Shalin City, two personal maids are provided for her service.
Jima simply let her hands drop, allowing her black hair to spill down.
“Alright, this will do. I’ll adapt as needed later.”
She was ready; just as she sat down in a chair, there was a knock on the door.
“Jima, Jima, are you ready to go to the party?”
“So quick?”
“It’s almost six o’clock.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, eighteen chimes rang outside.
Jima didn’t expect time to pass so quickly.
She pushed open the door and saw George in a faded linen short robe, with a worn leather belt around his waist and a pair of leather shoes on his feet. If it weren’t for his handsome face and the faint moonlight glow in his eyes, Jima might have mistaken him for an ordinary passerby.
“You didn’t wear that expensive fancy outfit; I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“I’m not used to wearing it; this one is more convenient,” George replied. “You’re also different today.”
“In what way?”
“How should I put it? You seem to look better than before. You must have dressed up; you never liked to dress up before.”
“Well, I’m naturally beautiful.” Jima said, somewhat pleased, flicking her hair. “What exactly is different?”
George looked at Jima earnestly, scanning her face as he said, “The eye drool in the corner is gone.”
Jima fell silent, her chest a little pained again.
“Your honesty doesn’t make me happy.”
“Sorry, I can’t lie.”
“Then I won’t pursue it.” Haha, silly boy, just wait for me to steal your childhood sweetheart.
Jima tugged on George’s hand and said, “Let’s go.”
But George walked over to the dining table, where a wooden tray held freshly baked soft bread.
“Want to have something to fill your stomach?”
“Huh? Aren’t we having cake later?”
“Experience talking.”
“I’m not picky about food.”
“I forgot, you eat that sort.”
George didn’t insist further, and the two walked out. George said a bit melancholically, “Strange, I just went to find a few friends I know, but they’re all off on missions. Teacher Gregory is busy too, just right, you don’t like him, and he hates you.”
Jima sensed a plot and asked, “So, it’s just the three of us at this birthday party?”
“Yeah.”
Indeed, holy maiden Jenna had a scheme. Perhaps she wanted to confess her feelings.
Jima’s golden eyes ignited with flames.
She absolutely had to ruin her good intentions!
