"You alright, girl?" In the lightless cellar under a bandit stronghold, the first thing Jingniang heard was a …
"You alright, girl?"
In the lightless cellar under a bandit stronghold, the first thing Jingniang heard was a greeting in a Central Plains accent. The first thing she saw was an ordinary wooden staff. Following it up, she found a bearded man.
Jingniang's gaze sharpened. The blade hidden beneath her skirts flashed out and struck.
He snapped the staff up to block, surprise crossing his face. "So you play weak, then strike hard."
"You saw it," Jingniang said. "I didn't need saving. I owe you nothing."
She sheathed her blade and turned to leave.
Behind her, he said, "A weapon is more dangerous the shorter it is. Throwing yourself into danger and flipping the fight may be clever, but pretending to be weak isn't something you can live on."
Later, with a knife at her throat, Jingniang thought bitterly that he was right. It wouldn't last. But it was still the deadliest way she knew.
She should've taken his staff.
As if summoned by the thought, she saw that same plain staff again in a forest strewn with bodies. One swing swept aside the troublesome bandit chief. The next drove the blunt end straight into his chest.
Jingniang clicked her tongue. She really should have taken that staff.
Too bad she couldn't.
So she thanked him and said, "Teach me the staff."
"My staff work is too hard for you," he said. "I'll teach you the sword."
"Will it be strong enough?"
"With your nature, you'll make it strong enough."
"Then I'll learn."
Over the long road that followed, Jingniang learned a sword form and came to own a fine blade. And every time she drew it after that, she remembered the kindness she was shown along the way.
Just as she remembered the promise he broke.