Beauty, beautiful, pretty, fine, good, exquisite…

Post about Beauty in chinese

Beauty in China, you say, the words having caught her completely off-guard. Her eyes widen in surprise, and she looks over at you. She looks at you for what you presume to be a long, long time, and seems to be thinking deeply about something. She sits in a chair in the corner of the room, and takes a sip of orange juice from a small container on a small table before her. Theres nothing beautiful in China, you say. And beauty is not something to be traded, not for love, not for money, and certainly not for power. You take a bite of your apple, chewing slowly. I havent been a teacher since I was fourteen, before I had my own apartment, before my parents got divorced. Im not even in this city full-time, and I do as I like. But I know, just as your mother knows, that beauty is not something to be traded. My parents must have been careful to give me some very specific looks. I have a rare genetic trait that makes me more attractive than most. I dont have many social skills, but those I do have Im able to put to good use. Im the perfect specimen of beauty, and my looks, combined with my intelligence and my charm and my skill and my beauty, are what put me in a position where Im able to go out, to do what my mother does and why she does it, but without the drawbacks she has, and in turn get a living wage and better living conditions, and at the same time be in some semblance of a position to take care of my two younger siblings. Im able to do all that with the same level of autonomy and control my parents had over me.

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