I woke before the alarm.
This was not unusual for me during periods of waiting, but this morning it had a different quality. Not anxiety exactly. More like the sharp clarity that comes when something you have been moving toward for months is finally within reach.
It was just past six. The household was quiet. I lay still for a moment and listened to it — the particular silence of early morning, the faint creak of the old timber as the house settled into the cold, the distant sound of a cart on the outer street.
Baek Soha was going to the intake office at nine.
I dressed and went to the kitchen. I made rice and broth, something warm and simple, the kind of meal that asked nothing of anyone. By the time I had it ready, Wei Zhengnan appeared in the doorway, his hair still slightly disordered, which I had come to think of as a version of him I was privileged to see.
"You're up early," he said.
"I'm always up early when I can't sleep."
