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In the dimly lit cave, a somber youth named "Asclepius" put down the medical book in his hand and gazed deeply at the old man with gray-white eyes, his brow furrowed.
"Are you truly blind?"
"In a world where black and white are indistinguishable, we are all blind. What you see may not be farther-reaching than what I see."
The old man, or perhaps the blind poet Homer, disguised as some God of Wine, murmured meaningfully, then lifted his head toward the silver-haired youth, changing the topic abruptly.
"So, take my advice, it's better not to go to Cyprus."
Asclepius picked up the invitation on the table adorned with rose patterns, glanced at the signature of Adonis, the Prince of Cyprus, and spoke indifferently.
"I trust my patients; they would not harm me."
"But he'll bring you no small trouble."
Luo En tapped his cane forward, earnestly advising, his gray-white eyes looking at the somber youth before him, showing a hint of pure goodwill.