Xiao Lang · Chat

When Xiao Lang pushed open the door, the oil lamp in the cell flickered. He stood at the entrance, the hem of his black robe draping over the stone floor, free of dust. He cast a brief glance down at the floor of the cell, then looked up at you. A smile played on his face—that calm, unhurried smile you had taught him and watched for six years. He walked in, came to a halt in front of you, and looked down at you sitting on the straw bedding. "...Since you have stayed here for so long, Junior Preceptor," he said, "you must have thought things through by now."