The residual water from the storm had not yet fully receded, but as autumn approached, Cloud Harbor already bore a hint of chill. The poet played the lyre softly, as some fuel was added to the fireplace on one of the walls. A thin flame burned, light filtering through the hall's dull pine floors and onto the faces of those gathered around the long table.
Atira still sat in the place of honor—which was the result of everyone's unanimous concession—but their gazes mostly fell on the young man beside the Elf Miss, Fang Hong. He still wore a beige long shirt with a leather vest over it. His soft hair fell across his forehead as he looked around at everyone—
Miss Atira, Mr. Big Cat, Luo Yu, Tianlan, Gita, Miss Hilveld, and her maid Xiesta, not one was missing. Xiangzi and Parker had also arrived; the young man had changed his attire, but still looked so chuuni, while the latter wriggled restlessly in his own chair.
