( A tender hand, sliding, parting, dividing, bringing back. He eases into the treatment, tension extracted, dripping off his bones. And hums, gently, one of the petty small songs of Caiyi, no better than a childhood song.
Ah, to be a talent in a clan of musicians. )
The day is fortuitous. ( Answers, what are they, in truth? ) Brother's hand is soft.
no subject
Ah, to be a talent in a clan of musicians. )
The day is fortuitous. ( Answers, what are they, in truth? ) Brother's hand is soft.
( Such flattery. )