The stream was quieter at this hour.
Not empty...never empty...but thinned, as if the camp had decided that rest could be postponed by a few heartbeats more. Lantern light did not reach this far; what illumination there was came from the moon, fractured by leaves and the soft movement of water.
Jin Yue sat where he had before, on the same flat stone worn smooth by time. The fishing line was cast, the float drifting lazily near the bank. His book rested open on his knee, pages weighted by the corner of his sleeve so the breeze would not disturb them.
He read.
Not because he needed to.
Because it was easier than thinking.
Behind him, the shared tents murmured with low sound...breath, a cough, a whispered argument that dissolved before it could sharpen. Here, by the water, the noise softened into background. The stream accepted everything without comment.
Jin Yue turned a page.
Footsteps crunched lightly on gravel.
Not hurried.
Not careless.
