The charcoal fire crackled. Dripping grease sizzled, sending up a wisp of white smoke that smelled of char.
Chu Jing wasn't carrying much; she'd left most of her belongings with Jiang Ji. It wasn't favoritism—it was simply because he was in charge of the cooking, and she couldn't be bothered with the hassle.
The pots, bowls, spice jars, ration sacks—even her self-defense dagger—she'd given them all to him.
He enjoyed fussing over it all anyway. As long as she got a hot meal out of it, she didn't have a care in the world.
The cavern was so quiet, the only sound was the crackling fire. Occasionally, a drop of water would fall from the stone ceiling, striking a rock pool with a single, crisp, and lonely—DING.
Wind slipped through the cracks at the cave's entrance, making the flames waver and cast dancing shadows.
...
"Mengmeng, listen to me!"
Ming Luo grabbed Que Meng just as she was about to run off again.
