The air in the small shop still smelled faintly of sesame, dust, and old dreams.
Golden sunlight streamed through the cracks in the latticed window, spilling warmth across the worn counter where Ananya rested her palm.
She exhaled slowly, gazing at the walls, the uneven floorboards, the way the light hit the far corner near the stove.
"This could be home," she murmured.
Yao Qing smiled faintly, brushing dust off a broken chair. "It already feels like one."
Fen Yu twirled gleefully in the sunlight. "Our very own shop! I can haunt the kitchen!"
Wei Rong rolled his eyes. "And I'll haunt the customers if they don't pay."
Li Shen's calm voice carried quiet amusement. "Let's buy it before you start scaring off future profits."
As if on cue, footsteps echoed outside.
A round, sweating man stepped through the doorway, his robe dusted with flour from the market streets. "Ah! So you found it! Yes, yes, this is the property I mentioned. Still solid, no termites, honest walls."
