Yu Song snorted, then looked toward Rong's group. "You think they'll keep the peace?"
"For now." She tilted her chin toward Rong. "He knows what'll happen if they don't."
At that moment, as if feeling her gaze, Rong turned his head. Their eyes locked again — his still wary, but no longer openly hostile. A man who understood strength when he saw it. And perhaps, for the first time, one willing to admit he needed it.
She didn't look away.
Eventually, Rong gave a single nod — not of submission, but of acknowledgment. A temporary truce.
Qingran accepted it with silence.
The cooking station had been established earlier in the day along a long counter cleared of clutter, close to the staff area where there was running water from a backup tank she had refilled with system tools. Her cookware—sleek, collapsible pieces sourced from the system's inventory—had been unpacked and arranged with quiet precision.
