Morning light spilled gently into the Empress's courtyard, brushing the dew off the leaves and warming the stone path that led to the small kitchen area. The palace was waking up slowly, but her courtyard was already alive with sound.
The soft crackle of oil in the pan.
The rhythmic tap of a knife on the wooden board.
The faint hum of a tune she didn't realize she was humming.
The Empress was in a good mood.
A very good mood.
She had tied her hair loosely with a simple ribbon, sleeves rolled up, moving easily between the stove and the table. The uneven scarf was folded neatly on a chair beside her. Her eyes were bright. Her movements light.
Fen Yu floated above the counter, nose wrinkled suspiciously.
"What is that smell?" she asked. "It's not soup. It's not porridge. It's… weird."
Wei Rong leaned against the pillar, arms crossed.
"It smells like something fried but not meat."
Li Shen hovered near the ceiling beam, watching carefully.
