Chapter 4: The Sword Pavilion

Dinner was held in the sect leader's private hall, at a table set for four.

Lan Zhenghe sat at the head in grey robes, with silver at his temples and a gentle smile.

His new wife sat at his right, thin and pale in a blue shawl, and coughed into her sleeve between mouthfuls.

Wanning sat across from Yuxi, with her sleeves still tied back.

She ate, and she did not wait for anyone to lift a chopstick first.

"Wanning is quick," Zhenghe said. "Yuxi tells me she has a fine sword."

"I told you she beat me in five moves," Yuxi said.

"Did you? Then she has an excellent sword."

He smiled, and it was a good smile, and it never reached his eyes.

Su Meiqing laid a hand on her daughter's wrist.

"Eat slowly, Ning-er. The cook is not going anywhere."

"Yes, Mother."

"And thank Master Lan for the meal."

Wanning looked at her stepfather across the table.

"Thank you, Master Lan," she said, flat as a board.

Under the table, her bare foot slid up the inside of Yuxi's calf.

Yuxi dropped her cup.

Tea went across the cloth, and every eye turned to her.

"I'm sorry, Father," she said, scarlet. "My hand slipped."

"You are tired, Yuxi," Zhenghe said kindly. "You have been working too hard."

Wanning's foot rose to her knee, and stayed.

"I'm going to take my stepsister to practice the night forms," Wanning said, to the table. "She's overworked. She needs to loosen up."

Meiqing smiled, relieved.

"How good of you, Ning-er."

"I'm a good person," said Wanning.

The sword pavilion stood at the top of the long stair, a wooden hall open on three sides to the dark.

Racks of practice swords lined the walls, and the floor was polished pine, cold under bare feet.

At the far end, an old disciple was sweeping.

His broom made a slow dry rasp, back and forth, and he did not look up when they came in.

Yuxi started to bow to him.

Wanning caught her elbow.

"Don't. Over here."

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