The Whisper Bowl had never been this lively.
The reopening was only a day away, yet the place already buzzed like a festival ground. Chairs scraped, bowls clinked, steam rose from pots, and voices overlapped in cheerful disorder.
The Duke rolled up his sleeves and carried wooden benches as if he had done this his whole life.
The Duchess sat near the counter, calmly folding napkins, correcting Lian Hua every time she folded one crookedly.
Lian Rou stood near the entrance, helping direct workers and customers alike with quiet authority.
Yao Qing ran back and forth with a ledger, calling out, "Careful with that pot! That's the new soup base—no spilling!"
Everything should have gone smoothly.
It didn't.
Because the ghosts were bored.
Very bored.
Fen Yu floated upside down near the ceiling beam, legs crossed, pouting.
"So many people. So many rules. And we're not even allowed to scare anyone."
Wei Rong crossed his arms.
"This is discipline. You lack it."
