The morning sun cast long, golden fingers through the high arched windows of the library, illuminating swirling motes of dust that danced in the air like tiny fireflies.
The scent of aged parchment, polished cedar, and the faint metallic tang of ink filled the space, wrapping around Peizhi as she carefully arranged the inkstone on the desk.
The smooth, cool surface of the stone felt pleasant beneath her fingertips and for the first time since arriving at this remote estate, she found herself enjoying the simple rhythm of her chores.
"At least this place has some dignity". She mused, running a finger along the edge of the desk. "Even if the beds feel like wooden plank".
She rolled her shoulders, wincing at the persistent ache in her neck.
Across the room, Xiliu hummed softly to herself as she dusted the towering shelves, her fingers tracing the spines of leather-bound volumes with reverence.
