When Shen Fei and Xiao Ning'er walked side by side out of the Winged Dragon Family's side gate, the sun had just risen above the rooftops to the east.
The bluestone slabs in the alley had basked in the sun all morning, and a faint warmth seeped through the soles of their shoes as they stepped on them.
The leaves of the old locust tree at the alley's entrance swayed gently in the breeze, scattering tiny patches of light across the ground that constantly changed shape with the movement of its branches.
Xiao Ning'er walked beside Shen Fei, dressed that day in a pale blue-green outfit with short, practical sleeves and a skirt. There were no unnecessary decorations at the cuffs or collar, and a small cloth pouch hung at her waist, holding a few pieces of inscription materials and a small stack of blank talisman paper. It was a habit of hers to carry them whenever she went out, no matter where she was going.
Her steps were slower than usual, and her shoulders were far more relaxed than they had been in the council hall, as though she had only just recovered from some tightly wound state.
They turned out of the alley and joined the stream of people on the main street.
Mornings in Glory City were always lively. All the shops along the street had opened their doors, and white steam rose from a bun stall where bamboo steamers stood stacked four tiers high. The owner busied himself lifting lids and turning the buns, steam billowing into his face before dispersing.
The blacksmith's bellows huffed and puffed, and the hammer struck the anvil again and again in a steady rhythm, like the heartbeat of the city.
Vegetable farmers came in from outside the city with carrying