By the time steam lifted from the lunch tureen, the day had decided to be kind.
The table in the small hall gathered them without ceremony.
Mingyu and Xinying, Deming with a ledger open but ignored, Yizhen with a tin of jasmine he pretended was a gift for Shadow, Longzi arriving late with dust on his boots and an apology in the shape of two quiet hands washing before he reached for a bowl.
Lin Wei ate at the corner, eyes on his spoon, but when Xinying placed two slices of pear by his dish, he looked up once and touched his forehead to her sleeve in thanks that didn't need words.
They did not discuss court.
Not the account books of the different departments, not the petitions of the other ministers. None of that.
