Silk, Swords And Surrender. Jeannie Lin
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was actually enjoying the exchange. She wished they didn’t have this duel between them to confuse her.
He bowed, blade pointed downward, very formal. Like this was a sacred ritual instead of a street brawl. She looked down at her swords and for a moment they felt strange in her hands, as if she didn’t practice every morning and night with them.
Master always said she wouldn’t know her limit until someone pushed her to it.
“Now?” the swordsman asked from afar.
She tossed her hair out of her face. “Now.”
He waited, relaxed in his stance. She was nowhere near that patient. If she was to win this fight, she needed to know the extent of his skill, his level of intuition with the sword. She’d know all of that with the first cross of their blades. The touch of steel never lied.
She rushed forward and the swordsman never flinched. He lifted his sword and her first strike met against a solid wall of strength as the shorter blade clashed against the longer reach of his jian. The swordsman deflected in one fluid motion.
Disciplined. Small movements, no waste of energy.
She gave him no time to recover before snaking forward again, her swords seeking an opening through touch and tension. The cry of metal rang through the square and the crowd gasped. He was stronger than her, but there was guile beneath his force. His blade slipped past hers with a deft rotation of his wrist. He was testing her as well, exploring the boundaries between them.
They separated, but remained closer this time, dancing just outside contact range. Her heart pounded, cutting through the sluggish pulse of the afternoon. She was breathing hard, but so was he. His chest rose and fell as he watched her.
Wang laughed from the perimeter. “More than you expected, Shen Leung?”
A nervous flutter rose in her stomach at the sound of the name. It was a name they’d heard of even here in this small corner of the empire.
“Well, if I had known you were famous, I wouldn’t have insulted you—” she taunted him “—quite as much.”
Curse her wicked tongue. She couldn’t stop herself with the energy of the battle flowing through her like this.
Shen Leung wasn’t so easily distracted. He wiped his brow with his sleeve and circled her, his feet steady over the packed dirt of the marketplace. His presence filled the space with hardly any effort.
“Who is your master?” he asked.
“No one you know.”
“He must have recognized your natural ability. Few swordmasters will train a woman.”
The surge of pleasure at his words was dangerous. “What makes you think my master is a man?”
She attacked again. Talking wouldn’t resolve this and she wanted to get a closer look at his sword work, even if it was going to be her defeat. Shen Leung was magnificent with the blade and he moved with a confidence that made her heart race. There was a joy in being pushed to the edge by a worthy opponent. She hadn’t found such harmony since leaving her old home to come here.
“Stop being nice to her!” Wang shouted.
Shen Leung breathed through each movement. His eyes met hers. “I’m not.”
Only she could hear the reply amidst the sword strike. His voice was husky with exertion and his skin glistened with a sheen of sweat.
“You’re good,” he said.
She parried and twisted his blade aside. “I don’t need you to tell me.”
He grinned and pushed her further until she had to fight for balance. She wasn’t done yet. Boldly she ventured closer where his longer blade would be less effective. Most practitioners weren’t comfortable there, but Shen Leung found her rhythm and flowed with her. The edge of his weapon broke through her guard. She leaped back, knowing it was too late.
But he missed.
The blade whistled past her ear. She stared at him in shock while he regained his stance and prepared for another advance.
She had him. It had nothing to do with skill. They were closely matched in training, but there was so much more that went into a fight. The honorable Shen Leung was unwilling to hurt her. He didn’t realize it yet, but this battle was hers if she wanted it.
With her new confidence, she could see all the openings. A warrior had to be ruthless and strategic. That was what she had been taught. He became a series of targets in her eyes. All she needed to do was catch another moment of hesitation and she would break through.
And once she won...what then?
Someone else would come. Another one of Zhou’s henchmen now that he was bent on revenge. Or maybe no one would ever defeat her or care to approach her with a serious marriage proposal. She’d have nothing but this speck of a town and the noodle stand. Shen Leung’s arrival had broken through the clouds. She might never feel this way again about anyone.
They said he was a good man, a just and courageous one.
She decided then. She met his attack edge on edge, loosening her grip slightly with the impact of their blades, and the strength of his next attempt wrenched the hilt from her grasp. A collective murmur went through the crowd when her sword fell to the dirt. For a second, it almost seemed they had been cheering for her. Supporting the local madwoman.
Shen Leung’s sword darted forward to stop just shy of her throat. She grew still beneath his gaze. He regarded her with admiration and something else, a fire she’d never seen before.
He rested the tip of the blade gently against her collarbone, almost like a caress. “Do I need to draw blood, my lady?” he asked softly.
He had already pierced her, deeper than he knew.
It was Wang who broke the standoff. “Claim your prize, Master Shen!”
“Prize?”
The blade fell back. The exertion of the battle began to sink into her along with the oppressive heat of the afternoon. She wanted to wipe the perspiration from her face, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t dare breathe as she watched Shen Leung’s reaction.
“Take your bride,” Wang said. “From your battle we can see the wedding night will be quite an adventure.”
His cronies hooted with laughter. She considered blackening both of Wang’s eyes and perhaps breaking his nose, as well.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Brother Wang.” Shen Leung looked embarrassed when he glanced back at her. “There will be no wedding.”
Her chest squeezed tight. Heat rushed up her neck and flooded her face while he bowed once more. The noble swordsman didn’t want her.
“Thank you for the match. Lady Wu is a formidable opponent.” He turned to leave. The cronies chanted their congratulations and ushered him toward the tavern to celebrate.
Mei Lin was left alone, her sword fallen in the dust. The curious eyes of the townspeople bore into her while the cruel sun beat down upon her back.
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