“The hills overlap and the golden light is extinguished, and the temples and clouds want to fragrant cheeks and snow. Lazy to draw crescent eyebrows, makeup and grooming are late.”

Wen Tingjun, a writer in the Tang Dynasty, used a piece of “Bodhisattva Man” to describe the charming and innocent attitude of a woman when she just woke up. On the dressing table, the hills with overlapping painting screens faced the morning light and half-darkness, with black and cloud-like hair slightly slightly over the skin of Shengxue, the woman sat in front of the stage lazily drawing her eyebrows, and she was willing to go until very late. Comb your hair and wash your face.  

In this stagnant time, only the woman and the delicate dressing box in front of the stage were in a trance. The box has doors and windows, drawers, and a vanity mirror hidden behind the railing, and the rouge gouache is hidden in it. The woman was dressing, lazily and softly, her slender hands probed into the box, and the rouge, Shidai, and lead powder were gently folded on her cheeks. No need to describe it deliberately, her prosperous face was naturally reflected in the mirror. Looking in the mirror, tidying up her clothes, the woman put away the dressing box, sluggishly, thinking slowly, looking at the spring scenery outside the window, wondering whether the begonias will open or the lover will come in the intoxicated morning? “