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... her stove struck nine. By then the soup bowls were empty, the mantou basket lay on its side like a toppled tower, and even the tiny crumbs had been swept up by Auri's diligent beak.
The Emberling phoenix‑sparrow now sat on the rim of the teapot, eyes half‑closed, chest feathers glowing a restful ember‑orange.
Kent leaned back, fingers cradling a warm porcelain cup. The oolong inside had cooled, leaving a faint skin on top, yet he still breathed in the spent fragrance as if it we ...
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