The sun was high overhead when the morning rush finally slowed. By late afternoon the entire market had fallen into a strange summer stillness — the kind that only came when the heat pressed down hard enough to silence even gossip.
Most of the city's people hid indoors. Only the bravest vendors remained at their stalls, half-drowsy under makeshift cloths that provided shade but not relief.
Inside the Whisper Bowl, the Empress and Yao Qing stood near the doorway, watching as a large group of workers poured into the empty shops next door — the very shops they had bought only a day ago.
Fifty workers. Hammers, ropes, chisels, bamboo scaffolding, buckets of lime plaster, nails and saws.
The street that had been quiet minutes ago was now a storm of noise.
"Break that entire wall first!"
"Lift the beam—don't drop it!"
"Bring water! It's too dusty!"
