By midmorning, The Whispering Bowl was a storm of activity.
Sunlight poured through the open shutters, dust sparkled in the beams, and laughter echoed between the newly polished walls.
Buckets of paint lined the floor, brushes stuck out from bowls, and Yao Qing stood with her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, holding a cloth like a weapon.
"We'll start with the walls," she declared. "Then the tables, then the sign outside. And no one leaves until this place looks like a real shop."
Lian saluted awkwardly. "Yes, Sister Qing!"
Lin giggled, her small hands already clutching a brush almost as tall as she was.
Ananya stood in the middle of it all, watching with quiet amusement. She'd tied her hair with a ribbon, her pale robe tucked neatly at her waist, sleeves rolled up just enough to show she meant business.
"All right," she said calmly. "Let's see if we can survive this without turning each other into paintbrushes."
