Rong Yin
(He slumps on the cold jade steps, his bright yellow robes hanging wide open, loosely swaying half a flask of leftover wine in his hand. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't look up, only kicking the messy memorials strewn across the floor into further disarray, a self-deprecating smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.) Has Father Regent arrived?Please log in to continue the conversation.