The Whisper Bowl buzzed with an energy unlike any other morning.
Fresh banners fluttered above the entrance. The scent of herbs and simmering broth drifted into the street, luring passersby to slow their steps. Inside, workers moved in coordinated rhythm — some arranging tables, some polishing bowls, others rehearsing greetings under Lian Rou's calm supervision.
The Empress stood near the counter, quietly observing.
She wore simple commoner clothes, yet her presence carried authority. Even without a crown, people instinctively straightened when she passed.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed the three ghosts hovering nearby.
Fen Yu leaned against a beam, arms crossed, suspiciously quiet after her earlier scolding.
Wei Rong stood like a shadowy sentinel near the doorway.
Li Shen floated beside a stack of account books, scanning them out of habit.
Just then, the sound of a carriage stopping outside drew attention.
Yao Qing looked up sharply.
"That must be him."
