The kitchen buzzed quietly with the rhythmic chop of knives and the soft clatter of pots. Qingran stayed near the doorway, letting Bai Shiyue and the others take charge of the cooking.
She rubbed the sweat from her brow, muscles aching from days of relentless work. Yet, beneath that fatigue, was a fierce determination which burned bright.
Outside, the faint hum of the newly powered drills rose, steady and promising.
Fang Mokin's craftsmanship had turned the chaos of construction into progress, and that progress was the fragile hope they all clung to.
She stepped into the kitchen, the scent of curry wrapping around her like a warm shield against the cold uncertainty of the future.
"Keep the fire steady.." she said softly to Bai Shiyue. "Once we finish, let's gather everyone and review the next phase. Time's running out, and there's no room for mistakes."
Bai Shiyue nodded, glancing up with tired but resolute eyes.
