[ a second notebook... there's an idea. hong lu wonders what it would take to get a notebook in this world. yi sang's notebook seems rather plain. hong lu remembers the notebooks back at the compound, with their tortoiseshell covers, or rolled up in little cylinders. hong lu hadn't been allowed to touch those, because they were made from the skin of rare animals or plants, and had text on there that hong lu wasn't good enough to read.

but yi sang likes his notebook. perhaps hong lu will have to find him one that looks similar to it. he considers this. ]

A page for my favourite items? [ the thought is an intriguing one. hong lu peers at the torn page. it's a rather long page. hm. ] I don't know if there are enough things that I like to fill a page that long. Do you?

[ and how does one come up with enough things to like? hong lu supposes he can list the mundane - he likes the sun, the rain, he likes being outside and doing his own things. but do those count enough to put on a page? ]