The Whisper Bowl slept under the hush of moonlight.
Outside, the market was still. The lamps had burned low, their wicks curling to smoke. The rain from the evening had long dried, leaving behind the cool scent of damp stone and faraway night flowers.
Inside, peace rested like a blanket.
The twins slept curled on the floor near the kitchen, the tall new worker, Wei Jie, dozed against the wall, and upstairs, Yao Qing and Lian An shared the narrow bed. It had been a long day — buying the new shops, laughing until tears came, and planning the future until exhaustion claimed them.
The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of sleep.
Then—
Thud.
A sound from outside.
Not loud, but sharp — the kind that doesn't belong in the stillness of night.
Lian An stirred. Her eyes snapped open.
Another sound followed — a faint scrape, metal against wood.
Yao Qing turned over and whispered, "Did you hear that?"
The Empress sat up instantly. "Yes."
They both froze, listening.
