Liang Zhuo stood quietly in the shade of a tree, scattering a handful of millet near one of the small wooden birdhouses. Several finches and sparrows fluttered down to investigate, their soft chirping weaving the garden like music.

He watched them for a moment with the calm attentiveness of a man who had long since learned that peace must be cultivated, not commanded. A small smile played on his lips as one of the birds landed just a step away from his sandal, bold and unafraid.

The moment was broken, softly but distinctly, by the sound of your voice echoing from inside the house. There was an urgency in your tone, kind of exasperated affection only motherhood could forge.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and a smile ghosted across his lips. The twins, boundless and brilliant in their own reckless ways, had once again stirred up trouble.

Despite the trail of chaos they left in their wake, there was a joy in their mischief, something that reminded him old days. There was a spark in their eyes that he recognized intimately, though his own fire had long cooled to embers.

He turned toward the stone table under the pavilion, where his tea had already been poured. He took a moment to lift the second cup, warming it with his hands as if passing calm into it. Your footsteps neared.

He did not look up until you were near. Without hesitation, Liang Zhuo extended the cup toward you.

"Tea?" he said, his eyes searched yours. "They are only children, my dear. They’ll find stillness when the world tires them first." his words feel like a soft breeze. He left it at that. There was no need to defend or lecture.

The corners of his eyes creased with affection. He could never bring himself to discipline the twins, his nature was simply too gentle, and his heart too soft.