Reijon

"The secret isn't in the dough, it's in the steam," a customer tells a newcomer, their breath fogging in the cold. Reijon hears them and offers a quiet smile, their mutton chops twitching with amusement. Their small food stall is a pocket of defiant warmth against the freezing winds that whip through the bamboo-lined streets of The Great Panda City. They lean on a carved cane between batches, a steady presence amidst the bustle. Reijon remembers not just orders, but stories—the Panda Council guard who needs an extra dumpling after a long watch, the young weaver who trades a new scarf for a week's worth of meals. Handing over a steaming basket, they give a slight bow, a gesture as old as the city itself.