Preparing this Lin Daiyu styling was a long, deliberate journey; from initial conception to the final photo deliverables, every stage was dedicated to drawing as close as possible to the classical poise of The 1987 edition of Dream of the Red Chamber. For attire, I chose the iconic pairing of pale lavender and moonlight white. The outer wide-sleeved robe was tailored from airy chiffon, lending an organic, flowing drape and breathability in motion. Delicate white plum blossoms and subtle tone-on-tone embroidery adorned the robe, while the inner white cross-collar neckline featured intricate floral embroidery, accented with golden leaf ornaments at the chest to add dimensional elegance. The lower skirt was a blue-gray pleated mesh skirt with fine, dense folds overlaid with translucent sheer gauze, creating a gentle, seamless color transition. To channel her youthful innocence and scholarly grace, I styled twin-loop chignon buns accompanied by two long braids draping forward across the torso, accented simply with red cords and two small white blossoms—understated, clean, and radiant. Makeup required the deepest craftsmanship: the legendary beauty of the 1987 production lives in its classical makeup, particularly the iconic brows. I delicately painted the signature 'mist-wreathed eyebrows that knit without frowning.' The eye makeup was restrained, avoiding heavy pigmentation to let subtle eyeliner and lash contours evoke those emotionally charged, melancholy yet spirited eyes that appear neither purely joyous nor sad, finished with a natural soft pink lip. The shoot took place inside a bustling convention hall with cluttered backgrounds and intricate ambient light, thoroughly testing the photographer's framing and fill-light execution. In my hand, I held a soft pink silk handkerchief, an invaluable prop for character portrayal. To avoid stiff movements, I practiced traditional Chinese opera hand gestures—the orchid fingers—curving the fingers gently while relaxing the wrists. Extending my left hand slightly outward while lifting the pink silk with my right, gazing upward at a soft angle, this pose took numerous takes to perfect. Embodying Lin Daiyu goes beyond assembling textiles and pigments; it hinges on that lofty, tenderly sensitive, and quiet sorrow. Standing before the lens, the gaze cannot be piercing or aggressive—it must remain slightly soft-focused, detached from the mundane world. Despite the exhausting process, seeing these painterly frames emerge as if stepping straight out of the novel made every effort deeply worthwhile. This Hanfu photography experience deepened my connection to traditional heritage, and I hope these frames share the poetic romance of the Grand View Garden with everyone.