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Water dripped from the eaves after an evening rain; the air smelled faintly of sesame oil and wet earth.
Lian An walked swiftly, wrapped in a gray palace-guard coat that brushed her knees.
Her scarf hid her face, and her heart beat fast—not with fear, but with the small thrill of being free.
When she turned the corner, she stopped.
The Whisper Bowl—her restaurant—was unrecognizable.
Only half a month had passed since she last saw it, but in that tim ...
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