"Greetings, Sister Fan Mei," Yang Qing said, flashing a sleazy smile as he stepped into Fan Mei's office.
The room was the perfect embodiment of what one might picture when thinking of a scholar's workspace. The left and right walls were lined with shelves brimming with books, while the massive earth-deer mahogany desk—stretching across nearly three-quarters of the office's width—was cluttered with scrolls and parchments. Some were fully unfurled, others partially opened, and a few remained tightly rolled, awaiting attention.
Four spirit-cleansing and spirit-calming incense sticks burned simultaneously on the desk, their faint trails of smoke weaving upward, mingling with the scent of parchment and ink. At the desk's corner sat a small azure cloud spirit rejuvenating marble, carved into the shape of an otter. It looked oddly adorable, Yang Qing had to admit, though he'd never openly say it.
