The only evidence that remained were footprints dug deep into the mud, pooling with rainwater. Weariness hung heavily on her shoulders. It’d been raining for days, but only now did Pia find that she hated it. Everything was grey and brown.

Through the grey sheets of rain, Pia saw that the watchman who had yelled was coming her way. Closing her eyes, Pia steeled herself for his approach. Briefly, she took stock of her situation. Her left knee throbbed from where she’d fallen, and her shins and cheek ached from the direct blows she’d taken. A white-hot heat blazed in her gut as anger once more flooded her. Anger, her oldest, dearest friend, had awoken. All the veins in her body felt molten, burning with a ferocity that caused her hands to shake. Even during the fight, Pia had wanted to let it free. Forcing it down, deeper and deeper into her belly, making herself be calm and steady was almost as bad as getting beaten. She forced herself to shake free of those thoughts and focus on the man approaching.

His steps through the mud were sure and steady. The squelching of his boots in the mud felt loud in the otherwise quiet of the rainy street. Bracing herself, she looked the man over. The watchman seemed to be an older man from the village. She thought he was too young to be a grandfather, too old to be a soldier. Rain slicked off the bamboo hat that hid his face, dripping into the mud with little plops.

“Seem too old for this,” the man said once he’d drawn closer. She couldn’t see his face, and he didn’t offer her a helping hand.

Blood trickled down her lip and she licked it away. The metallic taste lay heavily on her tongue. If rage had a taste, Pia thought it must be the same as blood. She struggled to her feet, not wanting to appear weak. Her battered shoes couldn’t find grip in the mud and threatened to slide out from under her. It helped to get her rage under control.

“Aren’t you too old to be wandering the streets like this?” Pia said, voice as cold and unfriendly as she could make it. She was wary of the man, her past experiences with the Dwelling authorities hadn’t always been fair.

It wasn’t wise to pick a fight with the watchmen, but her patience was strained, raw. She felt backed into a corner, like one of the stray dogs in Dwelling forced to lower its head or show its teeth. No one would support her from behind either. Her eyes narrowed, legs bracing in the mud. Retaliation wasn’t common, but it wasn’t rare.

The man surprised her with a laugh. Before she could blink, a flick of wind yi snapped against her forehead. She flinched too late. Pia scowled, wiping her forehead, but inside, a flicker of respect grew. She hadn’t even felt the yi coming. Suddenly, she looked at the man with a bit more interest. That level of yi control…impressive.

“Too old for sass, miss. Too old to be getting bullied,” he said, voice calm and even. He wasn’t angry, and even his retort held no bite.

The lack of emotion in his voice made Pia’s cheeks flush.

“You try taking on a crowd by yourself,” she said tightly, caught between shame for her rudeness and the anger that still boiled hot inside her.

“War is always one against many. Even in an army, each man stands alone, facing forward,” he said matter of fact.

The rain continued to pelt them as Pia digested that. In all her interactions with watchmen, she’d never had a one-on-one conversation like this. Was it his age that made him different? The elders always claimed wisdom came with age, but Pia had rarely seen proof in Dwelling. More often than not, she’d seen them quick to anger, bias, or even violence. Pia rubbed her forehead again, the sting of the wind yi already faded, replaced by a gnawing curiosity. There had been no malice in that hit, only a playful flick of power.

“In an army, you have comrades beside you. Brothers willing to stand with you, even to the end,” she said, after a moment’s thought, squinting as she tried to catch a glimpse of his face beneath the hat.

“The glory of war,” the man said, voice heavy and solemn. For a long moment he looked at her, then tilted his head up towards the ever-grey sky. Rain continued to fall in long, even sheets.

The man turned on his heel and beckoned to Pia to follow him.

“Come with me,” he said, voice firm with authority.

He never looked back to see if she listened.

She hesitated. With any other watchman, Pia would’ve run off already. There was something about this man that made her curious. His way of speech, the quiet confidence, his control of yi… Her curiosity outweighed her wariness.

Looking around, Pia saw only the gloominess of the rain and the bleakness of the southern street front. Here on this southeast street of Dwelling was where she’d run into Mai and Mei’s group.

On her way back from training on the mountain, Pia often leapt over the fence. It was faster than going all the way back to the main gate. The entire complex of Dwelling was enclosed by a tall, wooden fence.

The village of Dwelling had only one main entrance and exit on the northern side of town. Many years ago, the founders of Dwelling had decided that the mountain to the south provided ample natural defense. As such, they decided to build only a single main entrance on the northern side. Naturally, homes and businesses clustered nearer the northern section, vying for easier access to the main road. Over time, the south side of Dwelling became the home for the poorer homes and businesses. Rows of tiny homes and shops crammed the southern side of the village. Many of the streets were narrow or came to dead ends. 

In these quiet, isolated areas of the village, secrets could be hidden in plain sight. The southern section of town had significantly less people and watchman milling about. Lovers and cheaters often met discretely, away from prying eyes and loose lips that could spill dangerous secrets.

Pia herself liked to climb the stacked crates and look out over town. Sitting atop the buildings, she could envision the life she wanted to live, free from Dwelling.

Today, Pia had jumped down onto the southeastern street, hoping to grab some dumplings on her way back home. Instead, she’d leapt right into Mai and Mei’s group having their little meeting behind the wall.

As her thoughts drifted back to her encounter with Mai and Mei, the kindling heat of anger in her fought to blaze once more. What made her the angriest was—she hadn’t seen or heard anything they were doing. Their embarrassment had made a non-issue into a fight.

Shaking her head, Pia forced the thoughts away and unclenched her hands that had tightened into fists. She wanted to go home, study, and sleep, but the curiosity tugged at her, urging her feet forward.

Looking ahead, Pia saw the man headed towards a small food vendor built right against the southern wall. 

It was a typical food vendor with a wide stall for cooking, a long counter for customers, and a bamboo pole roof angled back toward the fence, creating a shelter for the tables and chairs set out beside the shop.

An old man sat behind the counter, sipping tea as he stared out into the rain. A breeze rippled through the corridor behind her, carrying the warm smell of noodle soup that made Pia’s stomach growl.

Pia stepped under the roof edge, letting the rainwater cascade down and rinse the mud from her hands. Cupping the water, Pia splashed water on her face, scrubbing it with her hands. Already cold from the rain, she shivered as the chill of the water contrasted with the heat in her lip and cheek. Still, it felt good to be clean.

Her ears pricked as she listened to the men speak.

“Donni,” the watchman called out to the vendor in greeting. “Two bowls.”

“Mow,” the vendor said with obvious surprise. “It’s been too long.”

Mow slid five coins across the table and Pia left them to their chat. Feeling a bit more like herself Pia chose a seat at a table. Resting her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and listened to the rain. 

She didn’t know ‘Mow’, but she wasn’t about to turn down free food. Opening her eyes, she took a longer glance at the man. It wasn’t as if she knew all the people in Dwelling, but she typically remembered faces. This man didn’t look familiar to her at all.

He was tall and strong, the kind of man she’d expect to see in a soldier’s uniform, even at his age. As he came to sit with her, Pia observed his face while he removed his hat and placed it beside the table. His hair, tied back into a low tail, was mostly black, except for a thick white streak that ran next to his left ear. He had no facial hair, which made his strong jawline more pronounced.

“You’re not as old as I thought,” she said.

He smiled wryly.

“Thank you, child,” he said, pointedly.

Pia refused to rise to the bait. Although he carried himself with the confidence of a seasoned warrior, his smooth complexion and calm expression made it hard to determine his age. His sharp, deep-set eyes gave the impression of someone much older. Mow was undeniably handsome and radiated a timeless maturity that intrigued her.

Before she could say anything else, the vendor brought the two steaming bowls to their table and… placed both in front of Mow.

He thanked the vendor and pulled both bowls close to him. Pia schooled her face into a blank mask, but her fists tightened beside her. Shame was another close friend, and it hovered around her shoulders, whispered into her ear.

Mow didn’t spare her a glance. From the cup in center of their table, he pulled a set of chopsticks out and placed them on one of the bowls.

Her chin jutted out, staring straight ahead with forced nonchalance. It wasn’t the first time someone had been callous to Pia. She could handle this fine.

“Gods, child, your emotions could sunder an army alone,” Mow said, voice dry and amused.

Before Pia could snap back, he pushed the bowl with chopsticks across the table to her. She looked at it in surprise. Mow snagged another pair of chopsticks from the cup and pulled the second bowl close to him.

“Eat, before I change my mind.”

The chopsticks were in her hand and noodles in her mouth before he even finished speaking. The food was comforting and delicious. It even had bits of warm meat. Pia practically drooled as she shoveled it in.

They finished their meal in silence. Pia let out a content sigh and placed the chopsticks across the bowl.

“Thank you,” she said, bowing her head over her hands in respect.

“Look at that,” Mow said, feigning awe. “You do have some manners.”

Crossing her arms, Pia leaned onto the table. Now that her belly was full, her curiosity overflowed.

“You’ve been to war? Were you a soldier or a martial artist? You’ve got the look down, if not.”

Mow gave her a flat look. She smiled widely.

“You’ve got green onion in your teeth,” he told her.

She scowled and ran her tongue over her teeth. Mow looked at her for a long moment. She wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps her questions were too personal.

The rain pattered on the roof. The vendor swept in, taking their bowls, and leaving a pot of tea for “his good friend.”

When Mow made no move to pour the tea, Pia took it upon herself and poured for them both. Perhaps if she acted with manners, he’d be more willing to indulge her.

The tea was toasted rice. Delicious. Pia smiled around the cup. It was her favorite. Many of the vendors preferred floral or fermented black teas.

“Why are you so curious about war?” Mow asked her.

She thought about it.

“You mentioned it first,” Pia pointed out.

“I did, but you snatched at it quite quickly.”

“I like fighting,” Pia said seriously.

The man laughed.

“All young like to fight.”

Pia nodded in agreement.

“It’s being in control of a situation. Finding the answer to a problem quickly and efficiently.”

“You didn’t seem to be in control of that fight back there?” Mow pointed out.

Pia’s lips twitched in amusement. Mow had easily led the topic away from himself. She wanted to be angry, but it was so smooth that she was impressed.

“That wasn’t me losing,” she told him, voice barely containing the irritation that always rose when she thought about losing. Even if she believed in her philosophy, she hated being pushed around.

“It didn’t look like winning,” he told her flatly.

Pia sipped her tea and thought about how to answer. The man had been surprisingly kind to her. It wasn’t uncommon for the villagers to treat orphans like her with disdain or bias. It spurred her to be a little more honest.

“See, how I see it is, you can win two ways. First, you can win by the obvious. Winning,” she said to him. “Or you can win a second way. By making your opponent believe they’ve won, when you’ve controlled the situation the whole time.”

Mow grinned, but there was no mockery in it.

“Isn’t that just a perspective-based win or loss?”

“A fight is about the outcome. The outcome determines the win or loss. If you can control the outcome, even if it appears to be a loss, you are winning.”

Mow nodded his head.

“When do you think it’s important for your win to be visible?”

For a moment, Pia hesitated; it sounded suddenly probing, as if he sought a specific answer. She looked down at the teacup in her hands, rolling it against her palm. Sediments of rice clung to the bottom, and she dug it out with her finger and ate it.

Mow knocked his knuckles on the table. She looked up and sighed.

“In a few days, winning will be the most important,” she said, forcing her face to be calm.

He slowly nodded as if it’d been what he expected to hear. Pia knew he’d know what she meant. The apprentice selection was always held at the same time every spring. For eight years, Pia had been training for the tests this week. All her hard work—studying, training, striving—would come to fruition. Her ticket out of Dwelling was only days away.

“You think you’re guaranteed to win?” Mow asked.

Her face twisted into a sour expression as she considered the question. Being an orphan was a handicap compared to her classmates. Having no family skills to acquire meant Pia had to work twice as hard using basic yi skills. Still…her lips twisted into a smirk as confidence surged within her.

“I think I am guaranteed to win an apprenticeship,” Pia said, looking Mow in the eye.

Mow’s deep, intense stare seemed to bore through her for a long, endless moment. Then, the corner of his lip quirked into a wry smile.

“I look forward to seeing the results,” Mow told her and his voice held the tone of finality. Leaning over he picked up his hat, placed it on his head and stood.

Pia understood and got to her feet too.

“Thank you for the meal,” she said, clasping her hands together and bowing once more.

Quick as a snake, Mow reached out and flicked her forehead again.

“See you around, kid,” he said, and then turned and sauntered off into the rain.

Pia couldn’t hold back the smallest smile and then she too headed out.