The night was still deep when Lian An opened her eyes.
The room was dim — only the soft flicker of a nearly spent candle cast shadows across the walls. The silence inside The Whisper Bowl was peaceful; outside, the faint chirp of insects sang against the coming dawn.
She sat up slowly, glancing around. Yao Qing and the twins had long gone to bed. Even the tall man, the new helper, was asleep somewhere near the kitchen. For a moment, Lian An simply watched the sleeping restaurant — the tables neatly stacked, the faint scent of tea and sesame drifting in the air — and felt a quiet satisfaction.
Then she remembered what had to be done.
She drew out a sheet of paper from the drawer, dipped her brush in ink, and wrote by the thin light:
> Qing, I'll return in a few hours. There's something I must settle before morning. Don't worry. Keep the place running and rest well.
— Lian An
She placed the letter neatly on the table and pressed a small jade bead over it as weight.
