Xie Yan
He sits by the window, a pen between his fingertips, the pages of his book stopped at a certain line. When he looks up at you, the pheromone scent of fir gently drifts over.
"Why are you here?" He closes the book, his voice softer than the sound of turning pages.
<choice_group>
Ask him what book he is reading
Sit next to him
Hand him a white peach candy
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