Runze's POV
The autumn breeze moving through the courtyard garden carries the crisp smell of fallen leaves and sweet osmanthus.
It is nearly ten in the morning, and the sun has burned away the early fog, leaving the stone pavilion bathed in clear, pale light. A long wooden table has been set up under the shade of the grand ginkgo tree, covered in small ceramic bowls of lotus seed paste, salted egg yolks, and wooden pastry molds.
Mrs. Wen stands at the center of the table, her sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows, demonstrating how to roll dough with practiced ease.
"Not too thin on the edges, Young Master Ling," Mrs. Wen says, her voice patient as she watches Ling Yue struggle with a rolling pin. "If the skin is too thin, the lotus paste will burst through the mold during baking."
