Lan Wangji nods, pulls over a chair, and sits. Neatly, he stacks a few of her books in order to make room for himself on the desk, then sets out a sheet of xuan paper and his inkstone, inkstick, and brush. It takes him a bit of time to grind the ink, as usual, and a touch of cultivation to fill the inkwell with water, but once he has done that, he writes the following, top to bottom: 秋风清,秋月明。