The steam from the jade teacups curled into the air, carrying the fragrance of spiritual tea leaves that were harvested only once every century.
It was a serene scene, a stark contrast to the blood-slicked jade of the Grand Hall they had just abandoned.
Shen Haoran, Xia Mengyao, and Luo Mingye were currently seated in a small, octagonal kiosk of white sandalwood, floating in the middle of a crystalline lake that mirrored the sky of the Shen Domain.
"It has been a while, hasn't it?" Haoran said, his voice smooth and resonant.
He watched a young servant girl pour the tea with trembling hands; she offered a deep, frantic bow before retreating back across the stone bridge, leaving the three of them in a pocket of artificial peace.
Usually, it was Qing'er who would serve him tea, anticipating his every preference with a silent but intimate efficiency, and even Haoran felt a subtle prickle of discomfort not having her by his side.
