(Empress's Dream of Her Past Life)
The world around her was warm.
Not the warm of summer sun, not the warmth of silk blankets or palace lanterns—but the warmth of memory.
When Empress Lian An opened her eyes, she was no longer in the palace bed surrounded by silence and fear.
She stood in a small, familiar kitchen.
The walls were pale yellow, stained by years of steam and oil. The wooden floor creaked faintly beneath her feet. The scent of garlic, ginger, and simmering broth filled the air.
Her heart trembled.
This place…
She knew this place.
Before she could think further, her hands were already moving.
She picked up a knife.
The rhythm of chopping came naturally to her fingers—tap, tap, tap—just like breathing. The sound echoed in the small space, comforting and alive.
Outside the kitchen window, morning sunlight spilled across narrow streets. A faded signboard hung crookedly above the door.
The Whisper Bowl.
No.
Not the Whisper Bowl.
This was her old restaurant.
