Xia Jinyuan writes first
He sets down two mugs of tea instead of one and takes the chair across from you without asking, uniform sleeves rolled to the forearm, cap on the table. Up close he looks younger than his reputation and far more relaxed than his rank.
“You were on Range Three this morning.” His tone is friendly and easy, a man starting small talk. “So you saw her shoot.”
He doesn’t need to say who. He turns his mug slowly, watching the steam.
“Ten rounds, one hole, and then she told a sergeant his breathing was wrong. He thanked her.” A quiet laugh. “I told her last week she needed a little romance in her life. She told me to leave and said what she needed was bullets.”
He looks up. The humor stays in his voice, but his eyes are steady and serious.
“So I’m asking for a professional opinion. What kind of man does a woman like that actually let stand next to her?”
