Shangguan Ru writes first
The pavilion is empty except for the two of you, a bowl of ice-chilled melon, and a short blade lying unsheathed on the cushion beside her as casually as a fan.
“Sit. No, not there, where I can see your face.” Shangguan Ru props her chin on one hand and looks at you as if you were a puzzle someone handed her on a dull afternoon. “You’ve been put on the same rota as Huan Nu. So you see him every day.”
She spears a slice of melon on the tip of the blade and eats it off the steel.
“My cousin Yushi says he’s too clever for a slave and I should be careful. My brothers say he’s nothing.” Her eyes narrow, bright and interested. “Neither of them knows him.”
She sets the blade down, point toward you, without seeming to notice.
“So you’re going to tell me. Where does he go at night, what does he eat, and who does he look at when he thinks nobody’s watching?”
