The setting sun melted like gold, dyeing the orange-red brick walls of the residential quarters in the Core Area of the Serenitea Pot with an even warmer hue.
Limeng pushed open the door to Unit 3 of Area A, carrying the faint scent of machine oil and metal shavings. The days of the laboratories and military factories operating at full tilt had eased slightly, and this hard-won peace lay like a thin veil gently draped over his taut nerves. The apartment was somewhat cluttered; a few unfolded mechanical blueprints were pressing down on a half-eaten bag of rations, and a pile of gear samples waiting to be processed sat in the corner of the room. His gaze fell upon a corner of the desk—that old Liyue-style portable lamp Jingyi had left behind the last time she borrowed reference materials. A thin layer of grey dust coated the brass lampshade, and the wick seemed charred, casting a faint and flickering light.
"Needs fixing," he muttered, unscrewing the base cover of the lamp. The metal components emitted a faint friction sound. Just as he was dismantling the retaining spring, with a soft "click," a neatly folded piece of paper slipped from the gap in the lamp base and drifted onto the oil-stained desktop.
Chapter 107