Morning sunlight poured through the windows of Li Ming's courtyard, painting the air with a soft golden haze.
It was peaceful.
Serene.
Almost suspiciously quiet.
Li Ming opened one eye.
No explosions.
No lightning hum.
No chirping.
He blinked.
Too quiet.
"…Lei Shan?"
No response.
He sat up instantly. The blanket was gone. His sword was gone.
And so, apparently, was the cub.
A faint sizzling sound came from the kitchen.
Li Ming froze. "…No."
He rushed over—
—and found Lei Shan standing proudly on the counter, a pot of tea boiling in midair, held together purely by static Qi.
The cub was balancing on his hind legs, tail wagging in perfect rhythm as he tried to mimic Li Ming's morning routine.
Steam rose. The air buzzed.
The teapot vibrated.
"Lei Shan—don't—"
Too late.
The tea poured itself perfectly into two cups.
Then the handle melted.
And the entire setup fizzled into a pile of fragrant smoke.
Lei Shan looked up, blinking innocently. Chirp?
