The kitchen smelled like steam and memory.
Yuan Zhou moved like she'd never stopped cooking—wooden spoon in one hand, the other already shooing Lucas from behind the counter as he leaned too close to the pot.
"You want food or a scar?" she snapped.
Lucas raised both hands like a guilty kid. "Just checking on the seasoning."
"You don't trust me after all these years?"
"I trust you more than anyone," he said, voice smooth. "That's the problem."
Yuan rolled her eyes and shoved a bowl of soup into his hands—deep ceramic, still hot. She dropped two thick sandwiches onto a plate beside it and pushed the entire setup toward the long wooden counter where Ava was already seated.
Ava leaned forward, sniffed the soup, then blinked. "Is that... real ginger?"
"And carrot. Grown in-house. Same with the chicken."
Ava glanced over her shoulder. "You people live like kings."
Yuan grunted. "Kings don't clean up after themselves. Eat while it's hot."
