Late evening settled over Jing City, its lights bleeding into the misted skyline like diluted neon. Inside a discreet upscale teahouse nestled in a narrow alley off Nanhuan Road, Lin Feng sat in the farthest booth, its walls lacquered in dark wood and adorned with minimalist calligraphy. The city's chaos felt far away here, but Lin knew better than to be lulled into peace. War never stopped. It simply changed rooms.
Opposite him sat Yu Jinqi, arms crossed, wearing a crisp navy-blue blazer over her usual loose turtleneck. She was quiet—unusually quiet. Since Spectron's exposure, she had kept things mechanical, efficient. Tonight was no different.
