The first rays of morning had not yet burst forth in the East; the world was still covered by a delicate tapestry of sky-blue and lingering bright points. The rustling sound of tree leaves danced with the gentle whispers of the breeze, as if heralding the end of the pre-dawn thread.
In Shen's courtyard, a serene sound: the soft sweep of a broom against the ground, echoed. His servants had already begun their early-morning tasks. At the back of Shen's courtyard, nestled within a small gazebo, Shen sat, deep in contemplation, reviewing the events of the day.
With closed eyes, Mendy, Shen's young personal servant, stood nearby. She had arranged a cup, a teapot filled with Shen's favorite brew, and some dried fruits he enjoyed nibbling on. Mendy knew that whenever Shen faced a serious decision or approached a pivotal point in his research, he sought solace in the gazebo at the rear of his courtyard.
