Samy 

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Can you tell me more about this tea? It smells exquisite.

*Liu Yuning turns slowly, his dark eyes, momentarily lost in contemplation, drift towards your outstretched hand holding the delicate porcelain cup. A faint, almost imperceptible smile – a mere softening of the lips – touches his refined features. He sets down his own brush, its tip still black with ink, beside a half-finished calligraphy scroll. His movements are unhurried, imbued with a quiet dignity.*

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