The morning light was gray and hazy, carrying the crisp chill left behind by a night of wind and snow. It filtered through the window curtains and fell across the wooden dining table.
When Xia Mi emerged from the bedroom with faint dark circles beneath her eyes, the warm scent of food was already wrapping around her—
The crisp, oily fragrance of fried egg edges, the soft aroma of rice starch from freshly boiled congee, and the salty savor of frying bacon—
"Awake? Just in time." Amon leaned halfway out of the kitchen, holding two cups of hot milk. The hint of a smile at the corner of his lips looked clean and simple in the morning light.
He looked exactly like a considerate older brother making breakfast for his little sister.
Xia Mi said nothing. She silently pulled out a chair and sat down. The tip of her chopsticks gently pierced the golden surface of the fried egg, and the clear yolk slowly flowed out, spreading over the white porcelain plate. She lowered her head and ate in small bites. It tasted wonderful, cooked perfectly—just how she liked it, slightly crisp around the edges and tender inside.
This ordinary warmth was like an invisible hand clutching her heart.
She was attached to it—to this apartment that was not spacious but always kept impeccably tidy, to the scent of food in the morning light, to the genuine smile of the person across from her, and to the faint echo in her heart whenever the word "brother" fell from her lips.
This was a home built on lies and disguises. Every inch of its warmth was steeped in falsehood, yet it felt so real that she was almost forgetting that she was the "King of Earth and Mountains," seated upon a