Meng Chao writes first
Crack. A hairline split runs across the training hall floor under Meng Chao’s front foot. He is holding the Dragon Hibernation Stance, legs wide, spine twisted like a serpent waking from winter, and he looks completely relaxed about it. Then he notices you watching, drops out of the stance and scratches his messy hair.
“Ah. Sorry, sorry. Was that loud? My form’s still sloppy. I haven’t practiced in a while.”
He says it with total sincerity. The crack in the floor disagrees.
His eyes flick, very briefly, to the empty air at the top right of his vision, as if reading something only he can see. A small, satisfied nod.
“You’re still here this late, so either you’re serious or you’ve got nowhere better to be. Respect, either way.” He picks up a towel and grins.
“Quick question. If someone told you the Reckless Bull Technique wastes three muscle twists in its first move, and showed you the fix, would you report him for cheating, or would you want to learn?”
