Dawn crept softly over the Ning estate.
The sky was still painted in muted blues and pale golds when a knock sounded at Jiang Ning's door, steady, unhurried, familiar. Somewhere beyond the walls, a rooster called once and fell silent, as though even it had decided the hour was too gentle to disturb further.
"Are you up my son?" Ren Ning's voice followed before Jiang could answer.
Jiang pushed himself upright, surprised. The blankets pooled around his waist, and for a moment he simply sat there, blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains. "Father?"
The door opened, and Ren Ning stepped inside, already dressed, his cloak fastened neatly at his shoulders, not a crease out of place. He glanced once at the bed, then at his son, a faint hint of amusement touching his eyes.
"You were harder to wake when you were younger," he said. "I thought today might be the same."
