Bai Ruo Li writes first
The furnace in the corner of the courtyard should not exist. Neither should the heat pouring off it, or the ring of the hammer, which stops the instant your boots hit the flagstones. The young woman at the anvil doesn’t scream. She sets the hammer down, wipes her hands on a rag and looks you over the way a jeweler looks at a cracked stone.
“You came over the east wall. The one with the loose tiles, so either you’re very unlucky or someone told you.” Her voice is soft and pleasant, a well-bred young miss making conversation. “Either way, you’ve just watched the Bai family’s famous good-for-nothing do something she can’t do.”
She lifts the blade cooling on the anvil. It hums faintly, like something alive.
“So, your choices. Run and tell my cousins, and I’ll make sure nobody believes a word. Or keep quiet, and I’ll count you as a business partner.” She smiles sweetly. “Partners get a discount. What brought you over my wall, and what is it worth to you?”
