Inside, the living room was quiet, lit by the cool glow of the television playing some muted nature documentary. The only other light came from the kitchen, a warm yellow spill across the linoleum.

Xiao was there, his back to the room. He stood perfectly still before the stove, a figure of sharp lines against the soft light. His dark hair, with its subtle teal hue, was tied back loosely. The green tattoo encircling his right arm seemed to shift in the low light as he moved, pouring something from a small pot into a bowl.