The backroom of the Chinatown tea house was cramped and dimly illuminated, the air thick with the mingled scents of jasmine tea, aged leather, and stale cigarette smoke. Lucas paused just inside the doorway, allowing his eyes to adjust to the murky lighting, punctuated only by the dull glow of a single bulb dangling from the low ceiling. Shadows stretched across the worn wooden table, occupied by a chipped porcelain teapot and cups of cold tea, remnants of earlier conversations.


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