Guiying quietly obeyed. The food wasn't extravagant.
It was a simple bowl of rice, vegetables, and soup, home-cooked and ordinary. For reasons he couldn't explain, it almost made him cry.
After thanking the old woman several times, he carried himself upstairs before eventually wandering back outside with nowhere in particular to go.
The village had already settled into sleep.
There were no loud conversations, no traffic, and no bright lights flooding the streets.
When he looked up, the night sky stretched endlessly above him, scattered with stars so bright that they almost didn't seem real.
The air was clean and the silence was gentle. Even the modest surroundings felt strangely comforting.
None of it was unfamiliar to him. He had lived with less. He had survived worse. Luxury had never been what made a place feel safe.
