The underground lot smelled faintly of polished steel and engine oil, its cool air a stark contrast to the tense warmth of the dining room. The family's convoy stood waiting, sleek and black, headlights blinking softly in the dim light.
Zhihao, Feihao, and Tinghao walked ahead in their tiny green uniforms, not with the careless energy of five-year-olds, but with the measured precision drilled into them at the academy. Their small boots hit the ground in a steady rhythm, backs unnaturally straight, shoulders squared. They had been gone for only three months, but the difference was unmistakable.
They carried themselves like little soldiers, too mature for their age. Their, steps were even and stable, the determination etched across their young faces erased any trace of childish clumsiness.
