Qingshui village nestled serenely among rolling hills and the languid glimmer of a wide river. Its cobblestone roads ran narrow between weathered tile roofs through generations, where farmers carried baskets full of early harvest and children played bare feet in the alleys, shouting with laughter. The air was thick with the mingled smells of steamed bread and rice porridge, and with the smell of hearthfire smoke, and in the very heart of this peaceful scene was a café that had, in a matter of just a few years, become its essence.
Wolf's Rest Café was a stone and dark-wood structure, one that looked to have been around forever, as much a part of nature as the river was and the trees surrounding. Lanterns hung by the door, and the wooden sign above the door, which had the figures of the forest carved into it, had a wolf lying underneath a crescent moon. The locals explained that at night when the lights were switched on, the café glowed with an intensity that drew the weary in like fire to moths. On the inside, the mood was lively with the aroma of roasted tea leaves, freshly ground coffee, and the sweetness of pastry. Laughter mixed with the clink of clay cups and soft crackle of the hearth, so that it appeared as if every corner of the café hummed with life.
The man behind the counter walked with a kind of subdued strength. Anze Li was tall and broad-shouldered, with rolled-up sleeves over scarred forearms, his steel-gray eyes tempered by the amber lantern glow. He filled steaming tea with the same dependable hands which had drawn blood in combat, and though strangers sometimes winced under his blunter presence, the villagers who came every day saw only calm dependability in him. He was no longer the Stone Wolf, but a man who brought them heat in a bowl.
His eldest daughter, Li Xinyue, zipped between tables, ponytail streaming behind her, balancing trays with poise out of all proportion to her sixteen years. Bright-eyed, swift-tongued, and hot-headed, she traded banter with customers, laughing at their jokes, rolling her eyes at Ayaka when she teased her too much. On a stool at the counter sat her little sister, Li Meilin, round-cheeked and forever curious at four years old, kicking her legs out from under a stool that was too high for her. She giggled as she watched the hustle and bustle of the café, clapping whenever she was presented with a bun to "help" taste-test.
Past them walked three women, each of whom survived another life, now as much a part of the café as the wooden supports themselves. Mei Lin, once Iron Fang, was the tallest of the group, her raven-black bob clipped close to her resolute jawline. Her blouse strained tight over her plush chest as she carried sacks of flour or jars of water with a ghost's ease. Her arms crisscrossed with scars, weathered posture, and fiery eyes softened only when she stooped to carry little Meilin on her hip or erased flour dust from Xinyue's cheek. Hana Suyin, Whisper of the past, glided silently from table to table, pixie-cut hair framing her fragile face, green eyes seeing more than she said. Her lithe body glided with grace, every movement on purpose, every teapot filled to precision. Customers lingered under her gentle care without ever knowing why. And then there was Ayaka Ren, Blaze herself, with her fiery crimson hair, golden-brown skin, and lotus tattoo peeking from her shoulder. She leaned against counters, her voluptuous figure framed in the lantern light, grinning wickedly as she teased both customers and comrades alike.
"Boss," she called, loud enough for the whole café to hear, "don't tell me you're scowling at me again. Smile a little, or the villagers will think you're planning to rob them instead of serve them! " The room burst into laughter, and even Anze's lips betrayed him with the smallest twitch, which only made Ayaka crow in triumph.
Xinyue rolled her eyes, Mei Lin sighed and complained about propriety, Hana shook her head and poured tea in silence, and little Meilin clapped her hands as if Ayaka had performed a trick for her.
As the sun moved on into the afternoon and the lanterns were lit, the café relaxed. Customers wandered off, leaving the gentle glow of their talk. Anze wiped the counter, happy for the peace, when Ayaka crept up behind him and encircled his neck with her arms. She pressed her big chest against his back and giggled in his ear.
"See? This is the only way to get the Wolf to unwind," she teased.
Mei Lin frowned but edged closer as well, her serious face reddening slightly as she stooped, her own curvy figure brushing his arm. "You should sit, Anze. You always bear too much yourself."
Even the very quiet Hana did not stand aside. She moved to his other side, her soft body touching him lightly as she set a cup of tea by the side of his hand. Her green eyes, full of unspoken love, rested on the front of his face.
Anze groaned, sandwiched between the three of them, their warmth closing in on him from all sides, the smell of tea and the whisper of perfume carried on the air. Little Meilin giggled on her stool, laughing at the "aunties" gripping her father, and Xinyue muttered something about "grown-ups being silly" before stepping into the reading alcove. The Stone Wolf had fought fire and steel unflinchingly, but here, in this little café which was his sanctuary, he found himself compelled to fight a battle of a very different kind—three friends closing in on him, laughter in their voices, love in their touch, and the warmth of family settling deeper in his battered heart.