She couldn't help but dance along with the swarm of butterflies, as if transported back to her youthful days when she danced wholeheartedly on stage.
Even though it was nearing dusk, the sun on the Blue Coast still shone brilliantly bright.
In the sea of purple flowers, a light pink figure was surrounded and danced amidst a flutter of delicately flying butterflies.
Occasionally, a gentle breeze laced with the scent of flowers would drift by, tilting the butterflies off course, only for them to regroup and continue dancing alongside Princess Consort Matilda.
Dance?
The word suddenly leapt into Princess Consort Matilda's mind.
No, it wasn't just an ordinary word.
It was also a name.
That's when she fully understood.
Why that young, beautiful woman would choose a name that seemed so discordant with the theme of perfume!
Because it was something unimaginable to anyone, something they wouldn't even dare to conceive.
Not only had she thought of it, she had actually achieved it.
