Li Mei walked back to her own hovel, her steps light, her mind a perfect, cold, shining diamond.
His kiss. His promise. His.
She entered her own, equally squalid room and sat on her mat. She brought her fingers to her
lips. She could still feel the press of his mouth. It was a brand. A vow. A seal.
A smile, slow and genuine and utterly terrifying, spread across her face.
He is mine.
The other disciples saw her as a ghost. A plain, shy, harmless little mouse. Ren Wei, in his
infinite, beautiful goodness, saw her as a "helper." A "partner."
He was so, so smart. He had seen the world from his books. He knew how to think.
But he was wrong. She wasn't a helper.
She was a hunter.
Her childhood had not been "tragic," as in, "killed by beasts." It had been a quiet, mundane,
endless series of betrayals.
She remembered her mortal family. She had been the plain one. Her sister, her prettier, sweeter
sister, had gotten the last piece of bread. Her sister had gotten the new shoes. Her sister had
been the one her parents chose to save, trading Li Mei to a passing cultivator for a single bag of
rice.
"She's quiet," her father had said, pushing her forward. "She won't be any trouble."
And she had learned. Oh, how she had learned. She learned to be quiet. She learned to be
invisible. She learned to watch. And she learned, with a profound, soul-deep clarity, the one,
true law of the universe:
What is given can be taken away. What is "loved" will be the first thing you lose. The only way to
keep something... is to put it in a cage.
When she'd first seen Ren Wei, he was just another piece of trash. But then, she watched him.
He was different. He didn't just brood. He thought. He analyzed. He tried to talk to the Senior
Brother who beat him.
And then, he had looked at her.
No one had ever really looked at her. They looked past her. But he... he saw her. He'd asked
what she would eat.
That was the moment. The moment the world snapped into focus. He wasn't a "partner." He was
a treasure. A beautiful, pure, good thing. A thing that, for the first time in her life, saw her.
And the world, as it always did, had immediately tried to take him away.
She closed her eyes, and she was back in that night. The night Jiao had been "punished."
She hadn't been "hiding." She hadn't been "crying."
She had left Ren Wei's hovel, her heart a block of ice, her mind a perfectly honed blade. She
had slipped into the shadows, her "Path of the Silken Heart" art wrapping around her like a
shroud, silencing her steps, dulling her presence.
She hadn't hunted Jiao. She'd waited.
She knew his cronies would leave him. She knew his arrogance would make him walk alone.
She watched him, a spider on a thread, as he swaggered away from his friends, bragging about
the "lesson" he'd taught.
She waited until he went to the latrine.
When he came out, wiping his hands on his robes, she was standing in the shadows of the
path.
"Senior Brother Jiao," she'd whispered, her voice the perfect imitation of a terrified mouse.
"Huh?" He'd squinted. "Oh. It's the little mouse." He'd sneered, taking a step toward her. "Come "He's broken," Jiao corrected, advancing. "Just like I—"
He never finished. Her art was not for battle. It was for this.
A 'Silken Thread' of Qi, finer than a hair, unspooled from her finger. It wasn't strong. It was just
fast. It wrapped around his ankle.
She pulled.
He was arrogant, his stance wide, his balance off. He fell. Not forward, but backward. He fell
with a surprised gasp onto the muddy path, his head hitting a rock. He was stunned.
That was all she needed.
She was on him in an instant. She didn't have "Numbing Touch" needles. That was a fantasy.
She had a rock. The one his head had just hit.
She brought it down, not on his head, but on his knee.
The pop was just as loud as the one from Ren Wei's arm. Jiao screamed.
"You... you bitch!" he roared, trying to get up.
She hit his other knee. Pop.
He was immobilized. He was hers.
She knelt in the mud, her expression serene in the moonlight. "You hurt him," she whispered.
"I'll... I'll kill you!" he panted, his eyes wide with pain and terror.
"You speak such filth," she said, as if scolding a child. She grabbed a handful of mud and...
waste... from the edge of the path. He tried to turn his head, but she was fast. She slammed her
hand into his mouth, stuffing it full.
He gagged, his eyes bulging.
"And you threatened his cultivation," she said, her voice a flat, cold monotone. She drew a
single, sharp, 'Silken Needle' of Qi to her fingertip. It was a weak art, one used for acupuncture,
for mending.
But it was also perfect for breaking.
Jiao's eyes went wide. He knew what she was going to do. He couldn't scream.
She slid her hand, slowly, almost gently, to his dantian. "He... is mine."
She pushed.
The Qi ruptured. His body convulsed.
She stood up, wiping the mud from her hands. She looked at the paralyzed, broken, sobbing
thing on the path. Then, with a single, efficient motion, she rolled him off the edge, into the
ravine.
He was... trash. And trash belonged in the dump.
Now, sitting on her mat, she touched her lips. Ren Wei was not trash. He was a treasure. He
was good. He was pure. He was hers to protect.
His kiss wasn't a "first intimacy."
It was a confirmation. It was the lock, clicking into place.
He is too good for this world, she thought, a cold, serene joy filling her heart. He is too kind.
They will try to hurt him. They will try to take him from me.
A smile touched her lips.
I won't let them.