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"Brother Feng," Chenlu’s voice filtered through the door, warm but crisp. "Breakfast is being served. General Wenxiu requests your presence."
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. The bed was decent, too warm, actually, but his dreams had been strange and unsettled. Fragments of conversation, fleeting images of Qingran, a voice whispering something he couldn’t remember.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, taking a moment to ground himself. A faint aftershock trembled th ...
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