"Speak 'friend,' and enter?" Yunlan's left the door ajar; he calls out from the kitchen, where he's washing out a few teacups. The sink is otherwise a pile of dirty dishes, and the floor by his bed to the left a sea of dirty and clean laundry separated by some arcane system known only to Zhao Yunlan; the area around the couch isn't too bad at the moment, though, apart from a few empty bottles, a disorganized pile of sheet music, and Jedao's file, sitting in the middle of the coffee table.

"Have a seat," he adds, and fills the cups from his electric water heater, dropping a tea bag into each and starting back towards the couch.