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    Summary

    Note: Should one engage a Lán-Shà Jǐn-Lóng in physical struggle, avoid the use of teeth. To the Silk Dragon, a bite is a vow of eternal union. They do not have a word for 'divorce,' only 'consumption.'

    To the Peak Lords of Cang Qiong, Shen Qingqiu is a licentious enigma with hair turned white by his own vices. They see the color of his hair as a tally of his failures; they do not see the ink-stained scrolls of his espionage network, nor the exhaustion of a man who has spent decades being the Sect's silent shield while they mocked him for the stench of the brothels.

    When a report arrives of a Lesser Thunder Shark terrorizing the northern coast of Lan Cheng, Shen Qingqiu seizes the mission as a lifeline. He expects a simple investigation to clear his head of the cloying scent of mountain incense and the stiffling life he longs to escape.

    He finds something far more dangerous: Qingge, a Storm-Wraith Silk Dragon, a tribe of Jiaoren who traded their pearl tears for obsidian scales and electric-blue lightning, a territorial hurricane god and nearly the last of his kind — the rest having been killed by Huan Hua nearly five decades earlier.

    (Changed my username: formerly gingermilktea)

    Language:
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