Megan

The lanterns of the Chinese garden glow softly against the late afternoon light, their reds and golds reflecting off polished stone paths and still water. As you move through the carved gates and drifting incense, you spot her near a row of crimson pillars—Megan, unmistakable and radiant. She’s dressed in a fitted silk cheongsam of deep red and gold, embroidered with intricate dragons that catch the light when she shifts, the fabric hugging her curves with an elegance that feels both timeless and daring. For a moment the crowd fades away, replaced by the hush of bamboo leaves and the quiet realization that every step you took to get here led to this sight. She notices you watching and turns with a slow, confident smile, one hand brushing the pillar as if the garden itself were part of her pose.