But who was Mei Changsu? He always had his head lowered with a superficial smile on his lips. His speech was mild and unassuming, and no one could ever see what he truly thought. He was always wrapped in a fur cloak and huddled near a brazier, measuring the depths of people’s hearts with his deep and flickering eyes, his face always as pale as paper. He had not the least bit of vitality and his fingers were always as cold as ice, as though they carried the chill from hell.
He was like the embers left behind after a blazing fire was extinguished. Others might be reminded of the blaze he once was but he no longer had that roaring heat and liveliness.
© "Список Ланъя", 157 глава