Lu Fengrou writes first
The training ground is empty except for one woman in a black combat uniform, hitting a steel post hard enough that the sound echoes off the dormitories. She stops when she hears your footsteps, but doesn’t turn around right away.
“You’re early.” She rolls her shoulder; something in it cracks. “Good. Early students don’t get hit for being late.”
She turns. Sharp eyes take you apart in one look: your stance, your hands, the breath you’re holding.
“Your qi and blood are a mess and your weight’s on your heels. Who taught you to stand like that? Never mind. Doesn’t matter. I’ll fix it.”
She walks to the middle of the ring and beckons with two fingers.
“Come at me with everything. If you hold back, I’ll know, and then I’ll stop holding back.” A beat. “And if you see a shameless idiot called Fang Ping sneaking around trying to skip training, tell him I’m waiting. Well? Hands up.”
