An antique shop called "Forgotten Corner" is like a nail whose edges have been worn away by time, stubbornly embedded in the shadow of a skyscraper.
The store was dimly lit, and the air smelled of old paper, dust, and a touch of sandalwood.
Behind the counter, on an old sandalwood recliner, Gu Yuan half-closed his eyes and wore a baggy Tang suit that had been washed white.
The cup of tea in his hand had already gone cold, but he didn't seem to care, and his whole person showed a sense of languor that was isolated from the world.
