Mingzhao’s posture eased only when Mingxi disappeared into the adjoining room prepared by the healers. Only then did the elder Shen turn back toward the glowing pavilion, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest, knowing smile.
“Sleep well, moonborn child,” he murmured.
The foxfire lanterns flickered, as though answering.
Chapter 40
A soft chime of fox bells woke her, delicate as dew on glass. Morning light filtered through the shoji screen, pale gold on the polished floor. Poppy blinked sleep from her eyes, unsure for a moment where she was—until the scent of sweet ginger porridge drifted under her door and soft footsteps paused outside.
A gentle knock.
“Lady Penelope? May I enter?”
Poppy straightened. “Yes, please.”
The door slid open to reveal Xu Yunlian, serene as morning mist, carrying a lacquered tray laden with steaming bowls. She wasn’t dressed in ceremonial robes but in lavender morning garments, her dark hair loosely pinned, a few strands softening her usually composed face.
“I thought a quieter breakfast might suit you,” she said warmly. “Minghua means well, but she tends to arrive like a small, cheerful typhoon.”
As if summoned, a loud thump sounded from just beyond the door.
“Ow,Muqin! I’m fine!”
Xu Yunlian sighed with affectionate resignation. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
She settled the tray beside Poppy and poured tea with practiced grace. “Eat. Today should be gentle. Minghua insisted on showing you some of our customs.”
Another muffled crash. “Mother, can I come in now? IpromiseI’m ready!”
“Before she breaks the door,” Xu Yunlian murmured, moving to open it.
Minghua burst in—hair half braided, arms full of supplies, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Poppy! You’re awake—good! We haveso muchto do. Mother, did you feed her?” Xu Yunilan acknowledged with a quick nod. “Yes? Good! People faint if they’re not fed. I read that.”
“Minghua,” Xu Yunlian said, voice barely louder than the whisper of steam from the tea. “Gentleness.”
“Iamgentle,” Minghua said sincerely. “Watch. Poppy, may I take your hand?”
Poppy tilted her head. “Yes.”
“See?” She beamed. “Perfect gentleness.”
Xu Yunlian hid a laugh behind her sleeve as Minghua practically floated out of the pavilion, tugging Poppy after her with exaggerated care.
The courtyard was still quiet with early light. Thin beams of sunlight slipped between the plum branches, catching on drifting foxfire motes. Kits wrestled in a pile near a stone lantern—tiny fox forms tumbling over one another in a flurry of fur and little squeals.
“This,” Minghua announced proudly, sweeping an arm wide, “is the family courtyard. Step wrong and Elder Shenwu will lecture you for twelve days, but don’t worry, I will teach you everything.”
Poppy stiffened. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to offend anyone.”
Minghua patted her shoulder. “You won’t. Lesson one. Greeting an elder.” She bowed gracefully, hands folded. “Like this.”
Then she abruptly bent so low she nearly toppled forward. “Andthisis what you don’t do. That means you’re challenging them to a duel.”
Poppy pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “So… polite, but not too deep.”
“Yes! Don’t bow like you’re offering them your spine.”
