The celestial viewing hall was, by any reasonable metric, the most serene location in existence.
Clouds drifted past its open archways in slow, contemplative formations. The floor was polished moonstone, cool and faintly luminous.
Tiān-Mìng was ruining the ambiance.
She was sprawled across her observation throne sideways, one leg dangling over the armrest, her robes pooling on the floor in a way that would have made the celestial court's protocol officers weep. The viewing pool before her was active, its surface shimmering with images of a very messy, very loud, very exhausted family collapsed in and around a jungle spring in the southern beast territories.
She was smiling.
This was, her siblings had learned, either wonderful news or a catastrophic omen. Frequently both simultaneously.
"You look pleased with yourself," said Tiān-Lù.
