Dawn crept through the windows, pale and tentative. Rui stirred, her body protesting each movement despite the luxury of Zou's bed.
She slipped from beneath his arm, careful not to wake him.
The pale sun strained behind the usual gray clouds, but something was different today—a faint warmth, like the promise of renewal.
Rui paused at the window, feeling it against her skin like a whispered promise.
Below in the town square, survivors had already gathered. They huddled in small groups, their postures revealing their uncertainty.
Children clung to parents' legs while elders sat on makeshift benches, faces etched with loss. No one seemed to know what to do next.
Rui dressed quickly, choosing practical clothes over finery. The silk would only get ruined, and these people needed leadership, not pageantry.
"Going somewhere without me?" Zou's voice, thick with sleep, came from behind her.
She turned to find him watching her from the bed, golden eyes still heavy-lidded
