Once her morning ritual had been completed, Jiao Jie prepared her breakfast and wandered amongst the ruins, bowl in hand. Her eyes trailed over the old stones and she slipped a hand over the remains of a weathered wall. It was a reminder of sorts, that all things came to an end; whether they were stone or relationships founded on respect. She turned her gaze towards the sun rising in the east, and a faint smile quirked the young woman's lips. It was time to move on. There was no use dwelling on what might have been. Jiadong was still many miles away, and the ride would be long. Many days until she would enjoy the luxury she'd become used to, and as many days until she would rest among her peers. She missed the gentle music of the Zheng drifting through the house, the taste of exquisitely prepared delicacies and the elegant conversations late at night where philosophy was an abstract, discussed without the crude, brutal reality of rain and hard beds.<br/><br/>She sighed and cleaned the empty bowl. At home, she would have been free to turn her mind to more important questions.  It was odd, but she couldn't remember the faces of her kitchen staff. Each had been handpicked, often from relatives of existing staff. And she couldn't recall the face of the young girl that prepared her breakfast tray in the morning. Glancing over to Madame Shu and her servants, the frown returned to her brow. Hopefully the rest had done the honorable Feng some good.