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Master Jin was everything Bowu’s father would have said was unbecoming. Quick to laugh. Uncaring of decorum. Kind. Worthless traits for a cultivator, who must appear to others as the mist: formless and unable to be grasped, until it was time to reveal one’s intent. It brought Bowu no small amount of dark amusement that Master Jin eclipsed the bastard utterly.
Xianghua stared at Gou Ren. He glanced down at the rope in her hand. She glanced at the rope in his. There was a brief scuffle, and then they were off into the forest. They never exactly agreed on who kidnapped who.
We all sat down at the head table. I was to the right of Pops and I poured him a drink. It was something a junior did to a social superior. And while technically a cultivator outranked any mortal . . . that was stupid. This was Pops. I respected him.
Jin took in the other man’s appearance. “Your kid still keeping you up?” he asked, amused, as he clasped arms with Tingfeng. The other man appeared vaguely haunted. “They all tell me that it’s good he’s so loud . . . but he wakes the entire street.” Jin laughed, then clapped Tingfeng on the shoulder. The other man smiled.
You can’t learn if you just unga-bunga everything in your path. I mean, it was kind of a valid strategy . . . but if I ran up against somebody who I couldn’t just yeet out of the province, I was pretty boned.
To give and receive in equal measure. One of the first of his Great Master’s teachings.
Meiling, on the other hand, frowned. “It’s fine if you’re married, but should you be . . . ?” “Ah. He offered to stop until we were wed. Gou has been a perfect gentleman!” Meiling cocked her head to the side. “Naturally, I refused,” Xianghua stated cheerfully without an ounce of shame. Xiulan shook her head and looked somewhere else while Meiling seemed torn between impressed and just a bit scandalized.
Behind her fan, the lady was the image of grace. Chyou was not fooled. Her eyes gave the impression of a smile, but all Chyou felt was that there was a tiger watching her from behind a patch of grass.
Chyou wasn’t stupid enough to attempt something like that against these three old tigers. There was knowing the power her name held. And then there was rank arrogance. These men and women were confident for a reason.
“You got this, Meimei,” Jin stated simply. Absolute faith shone in his eyes. Reassured by his steady presence, she smiled at him, and nodded.
In truth, he was rather glad she had dosed those men’s drinks with laxatives. For such foolish men would sire foolish children—and his Meiling deserved better than that.
Being on the back foot while a person better than you ran rings around you was highly unpleasant. Yet it was a learning experience. Grandmother always said that steel sharpened steel, no matter how unpleasant the interactions might be. Well, it was her duty to meet the challenge of Lady Wu. She would not be defeated next time—or at least, not defeated quite as utterly.
Bi De had been worried that she might somehow think less of Master, because he’d asked for help. Because he’d failed at something. That was foolish. He was learning something new, and these were things to be expected.
It was a drawing. A drawing done in what people would consider a traditional Chinese print. It was of a man looking over a hill, with a rooster on his shoulder. Below that was a set of elegant characters. “We all make our choices. But in the end, our choices make us.” “If I had a thousand lifetimes, and a million choices, I would choose this path every time.”
But after Ruolan, he noticed it more—he noticed the people starting to arm themselves. The result was they would rebel, piecemeal, and get slaughtered, piecemeal. So he had to control it. The war of his was no longer a secret.
A world-shaking revelation . . . and then lunch. It was amusing how often that happened around here.
They might have had their little fights, but when everything was on the line . . . the Xong brothers would have come with her to hell. Bitching and moaning all the way, but they would be there.
