The doors to the strategy hall opened just before the first light touched the eastern parapets.
There was no fanfare, no horn, no eunuch calling out a name. Just the soft scuff of boots on stone and a quiet breath that told me who it was before I turned around.
Mingyu stood in the doorway, travel-stained and calm, his outer robe slung carelessly over one shoulder. There were leaves in his hair. Dust clung to the hem of his sleeve. But his spine was straight, and his eyes were clear.
Shi Yaozu didn't move to greet him. He simply stepped back into the shadows without a word and left us alone.
I didn't rise to my feet.
I didn't speak.
I just watched him cross the threshold and take in the room like he'd never left it. His gaze fell on the lacquered scroll case, the maps, the candles burned to stubs. Then, without asking, he reached for the merchant list and started reading.
