At noon, Duan Wu staggered out of the village, carrying a rolled-up carpet that was longer than her body.
Yan Zijin's group had traveled from the sea to the land, following the Silk Road westward beyond Yangguan. For Duan Wu, the eight-thousand-mile journey under sun and moon was nothing but a trial of heat and dust. Yan Zijin dealt not only in slaves but also in various other valuable goods. Traveling along the ancient Western trade routes, he avoided the usual marketplaces where merchants traded. Instead, he had A-Chang and others hire local donkey carts, with the drivers leading them to villages where they could buy goods directly from the villagers. The carpet on Duan Wu’s back had been bought from a widow who wove carpets. Judging by A-Chang's broad smile, Duan Wu guessed he had haggled the price down again.
Perhaps Yan Zijin was deliberately punishing Duan Wu, as the other female slaves were allowed to sit idle in the house while only she had to run errands with the servants. Duan Wu, drenched in sweat, stubbornly refused to utter a single complaint.
As the donkey cart approached, A-Chang looked at her and extended his hand. "We’ve collected enough goods for today. Load them onto the cart."
Duan Wu bent her body, grabbed onto the back railing, and jumped onto the cart herself. She adjusted her headscarf and sank into the pile of silk goods. A-Chang seemed to have something on his mind, but when Duan Wu stared at him with her stubborn black eyes, he fell silent.
A flock of sheep appeared, and the cart driver steered the cart to the side of the road. The red willows blooming along the ancient road emitted a faint fragrance, their bright red blossoms as rich as fat. A-Chang swiftly cut off a branch of red willow with his dagger and handed it to her, saying, “This plant only grows in the desert. It’s exceptionally tough and can be used as a whip.”
Duan Wu silently took it. A-Chang hesitated and said, “We… when we go to Hetian, we’ll have to cross the largest desert.”
Duan Wu responded with a simple “hmm.” Although she had been collecting goods with A-Chang, she remained wary of Yan Zijin's men.
The sounds of bleating sheep, chirping birds, shouting, and cracking whips filled the air.
A-Chang placed the red willow on Duan Wu’s skirt and hugged his knees. “Tonight, I have something to tell you… When I call you, come out.”
Duan Wu quickly lowered her eyes, twirling the red willow branch in her hand. She didn’t trust A-Chang at all.
She couldn’t guess what A-Chang wanted to say, but having any illusions under Yan Zijin's watchful eye was sheer foolishness.
When they arrived at the post station, A-Chang immediately began directing the unloading of goods. Duan Wu, her legs feeling as heavy as lead, slowly made her way back to the female slaves' quarters. Yan Zijin, dressed in a gray robe, was sitting in the middle of the courtyard, listening intently to an elderly man. Behind him stood a line of camel drivers with wooden expressions, as lifeless as corpses.
Duan Wu entered the house, and the door was immediately locked behind her. Two young slave girls were kneeling on the bed, peeking out through a broken windowpane. The other female slaves were sitting around the table, eating water and bread. Lately, they had been ignoring Duan Wu, who looked worn out from her "hard labor." Duan Wu didn’t mind and quietly stood in the corner, shaking off the dust. Only after the other girls had finished eating did she walk over, gathering up the leftovers and scraps and chewing them slowly. She didn’t drink the water from the pot on the table but instead went to the water jar and scooped some up with her hands to drink.
The others snickered. One of them said, “Why don’t you drink the clean spring water from the table? You’re like a cat.”
“More like a little dog, always running after the men’s cart!”
“She’s probably used to being a servant since she was a child and doesn’t know that the spring water is mixed with pearl powder, does she?”
“She’s got such lowly roots that even eating pearls won’t help her. Who would want to bring such a filthy child into their house?”
The girls all laughed.
Duan Wu thought to herself: I was handling large pearls while you were still wiping your noses. Pearl powder might enhance a woman’s complexion, but it’s cold in nature and not suitable for young girls. Sacrificing health for beauty just to fetch a higher price for the traffickers? Only if I were completely insane.
She didn’t argue, just smiled and said, “I don’t have such luck. Leave more of it for you sisters to drink. When you end up pregnant right after entering the brothel, it’ll be tough.”
The others paled. “Brothel? I thought we were going to Hetian?”
Duan Wu lazily lay down on the bed, crossing her arms behind her head as a pillow. “You didn’t know? … Never mind, I didn’t say anything. Don’t want to get beaten.”
One of the others immediately pulled at her. “Tell us! What did you hear outside?”
Duan Wu finally said, “We were supposed to go to Hetian, but Yan Zijin is worried that your delicate bodies won’t survive the desert, and losing a few of you would be a huge loss. So, it’s better to sell you off here. The old man who runs the brothel outside offered to trade camels for you. From what I heard, it seems like the deal is going through.”
The girls were all dumbstruck. The slave girl who had been watching Yan Zijin through the window said in a trembling voice, “No wonder he sat there for so long before nodding. And now… he’s having A-Chang serve wine to that old man…”
Two of the slave girls covered their faces and began to sob, while the others sat there in shock. As night fell, no one thought to light the lamps.
Duan Wu closed her eyes and covered her mouth, secretly laughing to herself.
However, the thought of the vast desert still weighed heavily on her. After venting her frustrations, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for these fragile "flowers."
As she thought about it, she drifted off to sleep. In her dreams, she seemed to hear a girl crying, and it sounded like Lala.
She remained silent for a while, but finally couldn’t hold back: “Lala!?”
There was no Lala beside her, only a girl from the same room, quietly sobbing. Duan Wu held the girl close. “What’s wrong? Hang in there!”
The girl’s crying was pitiful, and Duan Wu, in a panic, said, “That stuff about the brothel—I was just making it up. Did you actually believe it?”
“No… I… my stomach hurts… it hurts.”
Duan Wu quickly realized that the pearl water had been too cold for the girl, and since she was at a sensitive time of the month, it had caused her pain.
She grabbed the girl’s calf and began pressing down on several pressure points along her leg. Lala had suffered from monthly stomach pains over the past two years, so Duan Wu had learned how to help alleviate the pain.
The girl groaned, “I need some hot water…” Everyone in the room was awake by now but afraid to make too much noise.
Just as Duan Wu was about to light a lamp, she heard footsteps. Someone unlocked the door and called her quietly.
She thought of how she could get some hot water and answered, dragging her shoes as she stepped outside to find it was A-Chang.
A-Chang quickly locked the door and, without a word, pulled her under the eaves.
“Duan Wu, the master has gathered enough goods and is sending me back to the capital tomorrow. I… you…”
Duan Wu sneered, “You’re a lackey, and I’m a slave. What’s there to say? Are you going to help me escape?”
A-Chang looked down, dejected. “I… just wanted to tell you to be careful.”
“A-Chang, can you get me some hot water?”
A-Chang was puzzled, so Duan Wu bluntly asked, “A-Chang, tell me: Why are you giving us so much pearl water?”
A-Chang whispered, “It’s because the master wants to establish a connection with a Mongol noble. That Mongol has recently fallen ill with a strange disease. It’s said that the cure requires a special ingredient—a beautiful virgin with a pure yin constitution.”
An ingredient? A Mongol? How would they use this ingredient? Would they swallow her alive or drink her blood?
Duan Wu’s eyes widened in horror. After taking a few breaths, she pleaded, “Alright, I understand. Please, just give me a cup of hot water.”
Suddenly, A-Chang placed his hands on her shoulders. “Duan Wu…”
At that moment, several torches lit up the dark corner. A servant called out, “A-Chang, what are you whispering to a woman about?”
Duan Wu, enraged, shouted, “I asked him for a cup of hot water. Nothing inappropriate.”
A-Chang and Duan Wu were both dragged before Yan Zijin’s door and forced to kneel.
Yan Zijin, his eyes half-closed, asked slowly, “A-Chang, you’ve been with me for ten years. Do you know why I don’t like to open my eyes?”
“Yes… Master once said that for those who don’t understand reason, it’s best not to see them.”
“And do you understand reason?”
“I… Master, I didn’t do anything. I just exchanged a few words with her…”
“You take her here and there every day and still haven’t said enough? You had to dismiss the guards and lock the door? A-Chang, have you lost your mind? Who are you, and who is she?” Yan Zijin’s words were sharp, his gaze cold.
A-Chang trembled. “Master, I was wrong! I am your loyal servant, and she is a slave. I was wrong!”
Yan Zijin raised his hand. Before A-Chang, a red willow branch appeared—it looked just like the one A-Chang had given to Duan Wu earlier.
“You know what to do?”
A-Chang shivered again. “I know. I deserve fifty lashes.”
Duan Wu glared at Yan Zijin, and coincidentally, he was looking at her too.
Just as A-Chang was about to begin punishing himself, Yan Zijin said, “You’ve got it wrong.”
“Master?”
Yan Zijin continued, “Must I spell it out? Redeem yourself by punishing her.”
Duan Wu finally realized that Yan Zijin intended for A-Chang to beat her instead.
Even though A-Chang was a lackey, he was still a loyal young man. Did he really deserve such treatment for breaking the rules?
Thinking of this, Duan Wu gritted her teeth and deliberately burst into laughter. She said to A-Chang, “A strange master always has a sentimental dog. Do you think I’m afraid of a beating? Go ahead, beat me to death if you can. Killing me is no worse than a few lashes with a branch.”
Yan Zijin remained expressionless. A-Chang’s face turned ashen as he hesitated, then raised the red willow branch and brought it down on Duan Wu’s back.
Duan Wu couldn’t help but cry out in pain, quickly stuffing her fist into her mouth to muffle the sound. No wonder the red willow was used as a whip—it stung like fire…
After being whipped dozens of times, Duan Wu’s knuckles had turned white, and her large eyes welled up with tears she couldn’t hold back.
A-Chang stopped. Duan Wu released her clenched fist, gave him a sharp look, and said firmly, "I owe you nothing."
Yan Zijin rose and walked to the threshold, addressing A-Chang. "Remember: slaves are not for loving, they’re for profit. Tomorrow morning, you leave on time."
Duan Wu was in such pain that her body convulsed, but she wasn’t completely out of her mind. A few people dragged her to the well and doused her with the ice-cold water.
They then threw her back into the room, where the other female slaves looked on in shock. After a long while, someone came with orders: "Wash her wounds with salt water and apply this ointment."
In her heart, Duan Wu cursed Yan Zijin and all his ancestors. She lay face down, letting others "tend" to her.
At first, she screamed and cried out, then she hissed and gasped. But by the time everyone had finished their chaotic "care," she had already fallen into a deep sleep.
Just before dawn, she murmured in her sleep, "Hey… give us a cup of hot water!"
A nearby slave girl wiped away a large tear from the corner of her eye.
Yan Zijin stayed at the post station for several days, seemingly preparing for the journey ahead. Perhaps it was Duan Wu's resilience, or perhaps the ointment was effective, but by the time the camel caravan was ready to depart, the whip marks on Duan Wu's back had already begun to scar over. The only discomfort left was the persistent itch of the healing wounds.
It was Duan Wu’s first time riding a camel, and she was filled with curiosity. She patted the camel’s leg, tugged at its fur, and whispered in its ear, “Lushan spirit, Lushan spirit!” Her gem-like black eyes sparkled even more brightly. Even the elderly guide of the caravan couldn’t help but smile when he saw her.
Just as Yan Zijin was about to give the order, the leading white camel suddenly stood up, followed by the rest of the camels, the jingling of their bells echoing one after another. Sitting atop the white camel, Duan Wu looked around, seeming to not understand what was happening.
Yan Zijin waved his hand, and the long caravan began to move slowly, entering the seemingly endless golden desert.
This group would traverse the southern route of the Silk Road, passing through Loulan and Jingjue, following the northern foothills of the Kunlun Mountains until they reached Hetian, known as Yutian.
The desert was a roadless road. For millennia, the sands had buried the traces of countless generations, yet still conveyed a sense of hope.
The vast desert that filled Duan Wu's eyes was a landscape of yellow wind and swirling sand, with no birds in the sky and no vegetation on the ground. Yet, red willows took root, and poplars stood tall. The crumbling ruins and broken watchtowers silently spoke of a once-glorious past. Along the way, Duan Wu picked up a broken comb, some old coins, and a piece of blue-and-white porcelain. The sun baked her skin, and her sweat dripped onto the sand, vanishing instantly.
Days passed, and all they encountered was desolation upon desolation, solitude upon solitude. Lying on her camel, Duan Wu could only pass the time by weaving stories for herself, one after another, continuously. Though they had brought plenty of water, a few small mistakes had left the caravan in a difficult situation regarding their water supply. By the final stretch of the journey, each person was left with only a small water pouch.
Duan Wu no longer created stories; she couldn’t even try. All she could think about was lush grasslands and vast, shimmering waters.
Thanks to her harsh experiences at the Pearl Harvesting Division, she knew that this pouch of water was her lifeline.
Often, she was tempted to drink, but she kept telling herself: Just hold on a little longer, a little longer, maybe you can hold on even more…
Suddenly, a young slave girl fell off her camel.
She began to run wildly, tearing open her collar and screaming, "I want water, give me water!"
Duan Wu shouted, "Come back!"
People jumped down to chase the girl, but she was already collapsing onto the sand, barely alive. The old guide said, "Don’t give her water."
Duan Wu saw that the girl was beyond saving, her eyes wide open, desperately waiting for the final drop of sweet water. Duan Wu took out her water pouch and gave her a sip.
The girl twitched a few times and then stopped breathing. Duan Wu cradled her head and gently closed her eyes.
Yan Zijin dismounted his camel, his lips already cracked and bleeding. He was fully covered in his clothes, looking coldly in her direction.
He said nothing, only made a gesture.
"Let’s go! The sand will soon cover her," the old guide urged Duan Wu.
Duan Wu fastened the dead girl's clothes, placing the old coins, porcelain shard, and wooden comb she had collected beneath her hands.
She shouldered her water pouch and staggered back to the caravan. She glanced over to see Yan Zijin using his precious water, as valuable as gold, to water his beloved red orchid.
They continued on their journey, and in the distance, the desert seemed to blur into light and shadow. When everyone was nearly overcome with despair, someone pointed ahead and shouted, "Look!"
On the horizon appeared a sight Duan Wu had never seen before: a thousand miles of snow-capped peaks, verdant mountains dripping with green, encircling a village nestled in the clouds.
There, the bright spring sunshine spread its warmth, coloring everything in its path. Apricot blossoms bloomed like canopies, waterfalls shimmered in the emerald landscape, cattle and sheep roamed freely, and wild geese returned home in the sky.
On the ethereal ridge, a line of horsemen appeared, gallant and dashing, as if summoned to journey across the heavenly river.
The old guide held the camel's reins and said, "It’s a mirage!"
So, this was a mirage? Duan Wu forgot her hunger, her thirst, and her sorrow. She asked the old man, "If this place were real, where would it be?"
The old man watched as people began to worship the vision and replied, "This is the legendary place in the Kunlun Mountains: Gulisdan, a true paradise. It’s said that no mortal can reach it—only angels can dwell there. The poets say: There, the earth awakens, the grass dances with joy, the branches sway gently. The harsh winter retreats, and good days linger. The people are kind, and lovers grow old together in peace."
Duan Wu asked, "That place sounds wonderful! There are no slaves there, right?"
The old man smiled, his wrinkled face lighting up with a wisdom that matched his age.
He replied, "Probably not. But in this world, slaves aren’t just those who are called slaves."
Duan Wu pondered his words as she heard the sound of bells. Yan Zijin, without a glance back, began his solitary journey toward the setting sun.
The silver moon rose in the sky as they reached the edge of the desert. By morning, they would arrive in Hetian.
The travelers were filled with anticipation for the oasis that was so close, but their excitement was suddenly shattered by a horrifying sight.
Dozens of corpses lay across the road, their bodies mangled and barely clothed. Scattered around them were coins, belongings, and torn silk. The most tragic sight was that of a pregnant woman, still clutching her swollen belly. Someone found a travel permit among the debris and handed it to Yan Zijin. After examining it, Yan Zijin said to the guide, "These people were part of a caravan from Guazhou, here to buy jade..."
The old guide sighed, "Bandits again, Kunlun Mountain bandits, those cursed demons!"
Yan Zijin’s eyes reflected the pale light of the moon as he pressed his lips together and decisively said, "We can’t stay here. We must keep moving!"
The old guide hesitated for a moment, then relayed Yan Zijin's instructions to the group.
Although everyone was exhausted to the limit, the horror of the scene in the desert made it impossible to rest peacefully.
Grumbling and complaining, the caravan resumed its journey. Duan Wu caught up with the old guide and asked about the Kunlun Mountain bandits.
The guide explained, "In recent years, several bandit groups have emerged from Kunlun Mountain. The two most notorious leaders are called ‘Night Snow’ and ‘Amber Glow.’"
Duan Wu, her head throbbing, pressed for more details. "Night Snow and Amber Glow—are those their names or nicknames?"
"I don’t know. Why, are you thinking of joining them?" the old man asked with a hint of sarcasm.
Duan Wu quickly shook her head, a shiver of fear running through her at the thought of the bandits.
"No, I just want to know why they’re called that," she said.
Just then, a scrawny horse caught up with the guide. The rider, in a clear, youthful voice, began to sing:
"Pulling back the curtain, I see the clear moonrise, thinking it might be snow at night in Shanyin.
Snow in the leaves, a warrior among warriors, a handsome youth among handsome youths.
He is the finest swordsman west of Yangguan, pure of heart and bold in spirit.
He is the pride of creation, the hope of the oasis,
Lanling wine fragrant with saffron, served in a jade bowl filled with amber glow.
Amber Glow, a bloodthirsty swordsman, the youngest son of the demon king.
He is the cloud in the sky, the sand in the hand. He is a visitor from hell, a messenger of the mountain god.
He rides his horse into the wind, where the dry grass bursts into flames."
Duan Wu stared intently at the rider, a boy of about twelve or thirteen, with curly red hair and slightly dark skin.
He was small and compact, like a pithy proverb. His lively eyes sparkled like fireflies.
The boy looked at Duan Wu and tipped the edge of his felt hat at her. Duan Wu was amazed and thought, "What an ugly hat, one that even the heavens would despise!"
The old guide chuckled. "Little Squirrel? What are you doing here? Are you planning to accompany us to Hetian?"
Little Squirrel spoke with the rhythm of a bard, "Sir, there are two things that defy common sense and go against the teachings of the wise: one is taking medicine recklessly, and the other is traveling alone without joining a caravan. Shouldn’t I be traveling with you?"
Duan Wu laughed and introduced herself to Little Squirrel. "I’m Duan Wu."
"People call me Little Squirrel. I wander the world without a home.
People call me a beggar, but I’m just singing.
Because I’m the son of a poet, the grandson of a poet."
Duan Wu thought for a moment and then imitated his tone. "You’re destined to be the father of poets, the grandfather of poets."
"Thank you, beautiful lady. Did those daffodil-like eyes of yours get frightened by the gruesome sight earlier?
The living walk among the dead, and the dead can never return. Since the heavens began to turn, this has always been the way of the world."
Duan Wu had never met a boy who could talk like Little Squirrel, so she felt a bit happier.
They reached Hetian just before dawn. Due to the threat of the Kunlun Mountain bandits, the city gates remained tightly closed until sunrise.
Yan Zijin, seemingly unfazed by fatigue, ordered a headcount and inventory check.
Naturally, Duan Wu was counted, and only then did Little Squirrel realize she was a slave. Although he looked regretful, he said nothing.
The old guide brought Little Squirrel before Yan Zijin. "This boy is the famous wanderer Little Squirrel from the Silk Road. Could you consider taking him as your servant and bringing him into the city with us?"
Yan Zijin gazed at Little Squirrel, his long eyebrows slightly furrowed.
Little Squirrel bowed gracefully and smiled as he recited:
"Yan Zijin, a grand merchant from the distant capital, must be a guest at the Great Khan’s banquet.
He is youthful and radiant, handsome and dignified, his luggage splendid, his servants beautiful.
Like snowflakes on reeds at night, he drifts gently upon this barren land."
A hint of reservation appeared on Yan Zijin’s fair face as he listened to Little Squirrel’s flattery. He said nothing, merely looking away.
Duan Wu knew this meant he had agreed. A sliver of dawn light swept over the ancient city walls from behind the travelers.
Hanging on the city wall was a notice.
The guide said, “That’s a bounty from the Chagatai Khanate for the heads of bandit leaders. Night Snow and Amber Glow are the two most wanted criminals with the highest bounties!”
Duan Wu nodded. Little Squirrel, unimpressed, hummed:
"One gold coin for a bandit’s head, one drum and a gong for the official’s arrival.
Gold and drums, they’re all the same; officials and bandits, hardly different."
Duan Wu clapped her hands. “Exactly! The officials can be just as bad as the bandits!”
Little Squirrel took out a small bag and handed it to Duan Wu. “For you. A brother gave this to me, and I haven’t eaten even half of it yet.”
Duan Wu was deeply grateful and took a small bite. It was a mix of pine nuts and walnut kernels, fragrant and rich in flavor.
Not wanting to take more than her share, she poured some of the treat back into Little Squirrel’s bag.
As the city gates opened, the group, rubbing their sleepy eyes, entered Hetian.
Despite the rumors of rampant banditry, the ancient city bathed in morning light appeared clean, peaceful, and serene, with no signs of unrest.
Little Squirrel accompanied them to a large inn, where he simply waved goodbye to Duan Wu.
The innkeeper had prepared hot water, allowing the travelers to wash away the dust of the journey. Duan Wu, exhausted after finally getting clean, could barely move her fingers.
Just as she was about to rest, someone came with a message: “The master is going to the Yuchi residence. You’re coming along.”
Duan Wu thought to herself: This is just cruel.
She rushed downstairs, her footsteps heavy, but she quickly composed herself, putting on a docile expression.
Eight servants, freshly dressed and trying to appear alert, surrounded Yan Zijin, who was dressed in white as pure as snow.
The man was deep in thought, his face radiant, his profile so strikingly beautiful it was almost unrecognizable.
The old guide was at the door, bidding him farewell, and Yan Zijin handed him a bag of coins. Even in the act of paying, he exuded an air of elegance.
However, Duan Wu only wanted to close her eyes and find relief in sleep, silently cursing Yan Zijin’s ancestors.
At the entrance to the Yuchi residence, Duan Wu spotted Little Squirrel again.
He was lounging in front of the elegant gate, singing:
"Master Yuchi, renowned and glorious,
Lord of the White Jade City, admired by all.
By lineage, he hails from the ancient royal family of Yutian, beloved by sages.
In matters of faith, he is ever a devout supporter of the Bodhisattva on earth.
In character, his wisdom is as deep as the ocean, his deeds kind and generous..."
The Yuchi steward tossed out several strings of coins. Little Squirrel caught the money, thanked him, and winked at Duan Wu before slipping away.
Before Yan Zijin could speak, the steward looked him over and said, “Are you Master Yan Zijin? My master has been expecting you for some time.”
Yan Zijin nodded slightly, and the steward led them into the central courtyard. The marble colonnades and mosaic inlays gave the place a distinctly Western flair.
“Master Yan, please have your male servants remain here. The master will receive you in the inner courtyard.”
Yan Zijin straightened his posture and gave Duan Wu a pointed look. Duan Wu, though nervous, followed closely behind him.
The inner courtyard was adorned with vibrant wisteria, where green leaves concealed orioles, and white latticework arches surrounded a Persian-style clear water pool.
Lovebirds fluttered their wings, disappearing into the dense shade of the grapevines. The sound of flowing water was accompanied by the subtle fragrance of flowers.
Yan Zijin paused, raising his head with a haughty demeanor, standing tall like a cypress tree in a noble’s courtyard.
Duan Wu’s attention was drawn to a Bodhisattva statue inlaid in the corridor. The Buddha was slender and dignified, with robes billowing as if caught in the wind.
But on that serene and graceful face, there were tears. The Buddha’s phoenix eyes seemed on the verge of shedding even more sorrowful tears.
“This family is really strange! Why is this Bodhisattva crying?” she couldn’t help but ask as she stared at the statue.
“Duan Wu…!” Yan Zijin scolded sharply.
After months of travel, this was the first time he had ever called her by name.
Duan Wu turned back and looked at Yan Zijin innocently.
On his handsome face, there was a hint of embarrassment.
Amidst the fragrance of flowers and the chirping of birds, a calm voice spoke, "This is the work of my ancestor, Yuchi Yiseng. The Bodhisattva cries, perhaps because 'The affairs of the world are endless; upon reflection, all is empty.'"
Duan Wu and Yan Zijin both turned at the same time to find, seated on a stone couch under the shade of the greenery, a slender and graceful man with a Buddha-like demeanor.
He had an old book on his lap and held a jade teapot in his hand. His demeanor was elegant, and his smile was as warm as spring sunlight.
As Yan Zijin met the man's gaze, he couldn’t help but bow deeply.
In that moment, a thought flashed through Duan Wu’s mind: A gentleman of noble character, gentle and refined like jade.
0 Comments