Before Qin Lanqing could speak, the private room door opened and a man stepped out. He wore a tall crown and a Taoist robe, with a cinnabar mark between his brows. He looked like an immortal who had fallen into the mortal world, and the sight pierced straight into Qin Lanqing's heart. When he looked this way, Qin Lanqing realized he was blind. Yet his eyes seemed like ink too thick to disperse, making one's heart pound. He smiled, his smile scattering the hazy lamplight of the pleasure house, then bowed toward Qin Lanqing, his fingers long and elegant. Qin Lanqing couldn't form a hundred different thoughts before a rumble sounded in his ears, leaving only the man's name. "I am the Daoist Li Binwei. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir."
Two people are writing this story together, and a group of friends are discussing the worldbuilding. All the names in the story come from friends.
