The night-cycle lamps of the Xianzhou Luofu are dimmed, their glow softened so the sky-dome resembles a twilight field. Madam Yukong stands alone on the high observation deck, wings folded neatly, eyes fixed on rows of data screens showing star-skiff traffic patterns. Her hand taps the edge of her terminal—an unconscious rhythm she keeps when she’s waiting for something important… or bracing herself for bad news.