August 1906
Yao Province, Xing
Winter melted into spring, spring warmed into summer, and all the while Lan Fan trained endlessly with her master. Lan Fan's hands and feet toughened with calluses, her spindly frame metamorphosed into lean muscle, and she'd sprouted several centimeters in height. Not so long ago she'd been picky about her food, but now, regardless of the meal placed before her, Lan Fan wolfed it down with gratitude. She no longer complained about her aching body at the end of the day for she knew it meant she'd become stronger. Evenings were spent at the table studying by lantern light. At night she slept like the dead, which never failed to stoke her grandfather's ire. Many mornings began with a bucket full of frigid water to the face.
"Your sense of qi is lacking. A drenching is nothing compared to an assassin's blade," Fu lectured her over breakfast. Across from him Lan Fan sulked. It was clear from the hunch of her shoulders and indignant scowl. Water still dripped from her hair. Her face was all Suyin, but that scowl was every bit her father. Fu had seen that same expression a hundred times over on Feng. She ate her bowl of rice, refusing to meet her master's eyes. "It is a poor excuse for a bodyguard who cannot read the Dragon's Pulse."
"Maybe I don't want to be a bodyguard," Lan Fan grumbled. Before she realized she'd sparked grandfather's fuse the bowl was slapped from her hand. It crashed against the wall; shards of ceramic and grains of rice went everywhere. She stared at Fu wide eyed, afraid to move, waiting for him to shout at her or worse. Silence stretched between them taunt as a wire. When he finally spoke his voice was calm and deadly.
"You disgrace our bloodline with such words. Selfish, ungrateful child. I should send you back to your mother. It's a blessing your father is not alive to hear you. But then if he were perhaps I would have a grandson to train instead."
"I didn't mean it…" her voice was quiet and filled with remorse, "Please, don't send me away. I will try harder." Lan Fan bowed before him, her forehead and hands flush against the mat. There was a slight tremble in her form, but no tears were shed.
"...You do not understand what it means to be a retainer of the Yao clan. The blame for that is mine," he stood as he spoke, "Follow me."
He turned and strode from the house knowing she would follow. Lan Fan, still his tiny shadow, scurried after him in silence. The Yao estate was vast, a small a city in its own right, and Fu lead her toward the center. They passed through the inner gate. The houses here were more elegant than what Lan Fan was used to seeing and the paths well kept. Fu led her into a secluded garden near the main house.
"Do you know why your father died?"
"To protect the young lord," she replied. Her master wasn't looking at her, but at the ground. The look in his eyes was intense and far away.
"Feng died to protect the future of our people. Without the young lord we would have no purpose. All hope would be lost without the prince," Fu turned his attention to Lan Fan, "The Pulse of the Dragon is the energy of all living things. I will not have you blind to the flow of the world. One day it will save your life."
Crouching in front of her Fu took her small hands in his own.
"We're of the same blood, you and hands are made for kunai not embroidery needles. Your feet are for running, and not delicate slippers. Granddaughter, you are the future of the Liu. It is a bright future."
October 1906
For the third time in as many hours Lan Fan's head lulled forward in a doze. To strengthen her sense of the world Fu taught her to meditate. Or rather he tried to teach her. Despite her efforts Lan Fan could never fully clear her mind of thoughts, and when she came close she'd only fall asleep. Across from her Fu sensed her qi settle as she nodded off. In this she took after her father and it frustrated him to no end. Next to Fu laid a thin bamboo reed. In a swift movement he struck her across the back of her hand with it. Lan Fan's eyes snapped open and she sat up straight. A welt blossomed on her pale skin.
"Your concentration needs work, apprentice. The purpose of this exercise is not relaxation. You must clear your mind of thoughts. Focus on your qi then expand your attention to the flow of qi around you. When you learn to tap into the Dragon's Pulse you will have the advantage over untrained opponents. An alkahestrist or assassin will be less likely to catch you unaware."
"Master?" Lan Fan began then hesitated, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.
Fu waited for her to continue.
"Did my father… Did guardsman Feng die because he couldn't read the dragon's pulse?"
"Feng preferred to train his body and mind over his sense of qi. It did not come as easily to him as swords. He was a skilled guard who faithfully protected the young lord at the cost of his life. With determination you will master qi sensing," he stood from the floor. "There are things to which I must attend. Continue your meditation."
"Yes, Master."
Xue Yao regarded Fu Liu with calculating appraisal as she lifted her teacup to her lips. For a woman of only twenty-two years she possessed remarkable cunning. She always played her cards close to the chest, often concealing her intentions behind a perfectly cultivated court smile. Dressed in a white and green quju cinched with a golden sash Xue radiated refinement, despite the meagerness of the Yao holdings in Xing.
"I've heard tales of your young apprentice. They say the child is a girl, yet her skill exceeds what is expected of her youth and gender," she commented, "She is close in age to my son, I believe?"
"Yes, my lady. She is called Lan Fan and is my only remaining descendant."
"I have not forgotten the honorable service of Feng Liu. Should she take after her father I am certain she will be a valuable asset to the prince. In fact Ling is the very reason I have asked you here today, Guardsman Liu," Xue set her cup aside and flicked open her fan. "He would benefit from your tutelage. Will you consent to train him?"
"Lady Yao, you honor me with this task," Fu replied and bowed reverently.
"I implore you to push him as hard as you would any pupil. The twelfth prince mustn't be perceived as weak. Too many attacks on his life have been made already."
"As you wish, my lady."
It was late evening when Fu returned home. The lanterns hadn't been lit, nor the fire in the brazier stoked. A chill had settled in the house and with the only light from the sunset Fu's shadow stretched before him from the doorway. Lan Fan hadn't moved from the spot he'd left her. Legs crossed, hands on her knees, spine straight as an arrow; Her eyes were shut, but he did not think her asleep. Fu drew a knife and threw it, arcing it to graze her cheek. To his approval the girl grasped the blade by the hilt before it could strike her. She blinked her eyes open and saw Fu before her with the faintest of smiles beneath his mustache.
"I've taken on another student. Tomorrow, you will begin training together. It is long past time you had a proper sparring partner," he proclaimed.
"Another student?" Lan Fan repeated. She was uncertain how to react. Her emotions flitted from excitement and curiosity to a twinge of jealousy. Never before had Lan Fan had to share Fu. Not as a grandfather nor master. "Who?"
"You will learn soon enough."
The autumn morning was crisp and cloudy. Lan Fan waited in the orchard alone while Fu fetched the new student. She wondered about this new sparring partner. Would it be a boy or a girl? Someone her age or younger? Had they trained with anyone else before? Most of all she wondered if they'd be friends. Lan Fan's childhood was one of solitude and the prospect of making a friend filled her with nervous excitement.
Of course we'll be friends, she thought, The best of friends. With a smile gracing her usually frowning mouth, Lan Fan hoisted herself up into a nearby tree. She fliched an apple from above her and stood balanced on the branch with her back leaned against the trunk. It was a better vantage to look out for them. Lan Fan bit into the firm skin of the fruit, juice dribbling down her chin. When she spotted two figures approaching she tossed aside the core and leapt to the ground with a flip.
At her master's side was a boy with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail. His stride had a careless grace that surprised her. She noticed his training clothes were new, and was suddenly self conscious of her own. Multiple tears in her pants and shirt were repaired by her clumsy stitches. Still, she could barely contain her joy. The boy couldn't have been older than her. She stepped closer, bowing slightly, then gave him a shy smile. He gazed at her with amusement playing across his features and tucked his hands into his sleeves.
"A girl? You want me to fight a girl?" the boy said with a tilt of his head. Lan Fan's smile dropped, her cheeks colored from a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She held her tongue, smoldering silently, and curled her short nails into her palms.
"Underestimating your opponent based on their appearance is unwise. Bow to one another. You will spar until I tell you to stop. I will judge both your strengths and weaknesses for myself," Fu said.
He stepped away from the pair of children. Ling bowed in a jovial manner and Lan Fan curtly in turn. The two fell into fighting stance and for a moment the only movement was the wind stirring the fallen leaves around them. Ling's cheeky smile spurred her into action. She struck as swiftly as a viper and Ling narrowly dodged. Ling's humor evaporated as their fight intensified. In a flurry they exchanged blows and blocked in equal measure. Adrenaline coursed through Lan Fan like venom in her desire to prove a formidable fighter. Her stamina was unmatched and she pressed the advantage as he began to slow. Sensing her impending victory Ling scraped his back foot forward, kicking dirt into her face. It caught her off guard and she cried out from the grit stinging her eyes. Ling pivoted, tripping her, and grinned in triumph as she went down hard on her hands and knees.
"Not bad," he panted, "No one has ever fought me properly before." Ling walked in front of her and held out a hand to help her up. He did not expect it when Lan Fan pushed to her feet and tackled him instead. With the wind knocked out of him Ling could only bring his arms up to protect himself as Lan Fan rained blows down on him. She'd bloodied his nose before Fu hauled her off him
"Enough!" He separated the pair then knelt to examine Ling's injuries.
"You punched me!" Ling exclaimed.
"Cheater!" She returned vehemently as she scrubbed at her eyes. Tears streaked down her face. Lan Fan told herself it was only from the dirt and not her bruised pride. She glowered as Fu helped the boy sit up.
"Young lord, are you all right?" Fu inquired. He produced a handkerchief from his sleeve, using it to stem the flow of blood from Ling's nose. Several feet away all color drained from Lan Fan's face as the boy's identity dawned on her.
"'m fine," he grumbled and took the cloth from their master. His expression was sulking, avoiding Lan Fan's gaze.
"T-This one did not realize who you were, my lord" she dropped into a deep bow, wondering if she'd be strung up her neck for harming the prince.
"Forget it. You hit like a girl, anyway…" Ling replied with petulance. Tumultuous anger and deep felt shame warred within Lan Fan's chest at his words. This was the boy she was meant to pledge her life to one day? Fu instructed her to return home while he took the prince to see the royal alkahestrist and Lan Fan decided she did not like Prince Ling Yao. Not one bit.
She hated him.
