"There will already be lotuses in the wooden panels," says Wei Wuxian, though he would hardly mind more. "Perhaps," he says, his eyes somehow both darkening and shining with new light, "There could be a special series in the bedroom. The exploits of the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-Jun. The tortoise, the dancing goddess, the fall of Wen Rouhan!"

How a person could endure in such a room and not get their blood up is beyond him. He wonders if they would ever leave.