WILLIAM HARCOURT

THE first thing that Luo Yan saw when he walked into the room was a man sitting on a wheelchair. His white hair perfectly combed back. But a portion of it, the one at the frontal left, was covered in burn marks. Those burns probably continued on to his face. But he couldn't tell because of the white mask he's wearing.

It was not a ghastly looking mask. It looked like one of those masks being used in theater plays. It looked delicate and made it good taste. The only problem Luo Yan had with this was that he couldn't see the other's face. 

He could tell a lot of things based on one's face – their expression, the emotions in their eyes. Most of the times, it could tell more than the words one spoke. But now, Luo Yan wouldn't be able to take advantage of that. 

Although disappointed, he tried his best not to show it on his face. "I'm delighted to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Harcourt."