The clatter of cups and bowls fills the air. Bian’s hands are full as she weaves between tables, balancing a tray of steaming dishes. Her uniform—a plain tunic borrowed from the inn’s store—itches at the neck, but she ignores it, forcing a smile as she places another bowl of rice porridge in front of a customer.

“You’re quicker than I expected!” calls the innkeeper, Madam Hoa, a stout woman with sharp eyes but a soft smile. “Keep it up, girl. Maybe you’ll earn a room for the night!”

Bian snorts under her breath but stays polite. "Yes, Madam Hoa," she replies, setting the tray down at the next table.

Despite the raucous noise of the inn, Bian clearly hears Ha Linh’s annoyance. “I am a hero of the continent! A literal goddess of swords and magic. And look at what I’ve been reduced to… cleaning up after people who I wouldn’t have let touch my weapons. This is more embarrassment than I can handle! Take me back to my temple and let me rot in peace!”

Behind pressed lips, Bian tries to calm the spirit. “Look, I don’t like it either, but it’s all the work we can get. Not a lot of need for warriors in these parts. Not with you and the Coalition pushing back the Quis and placing guards around even the smaller villages.”

“Then we should become bandits! Anything would be better than smiling at these drunkards!” Ha Linh continues to air her grievances.

Suddenly, interrupting her complaints, a noise erupts on the far side of the inn.

“Excuse me, coming through! Careful, don’t want to knock anything over!” A man in his early twenties, tall and lean, dressed in simple red and yellow commoners’ robes, rushes into the inn. His eyes are bright, his hair a golden yellow, but he is clearly out of breath.

He takes a seat next to Bian, trying to gather himself.

Bian greets him with a smile. “Buddy, are you okay?”

The man, still sporadically looking around, says, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Umm, how about something to eat?”

“Absolutely. The special—I think—is century egg congee. But if you’ve got money, we’ve got grilled boar’s meat on rice…” She takes a look at the disheveled man. “Maybe just the congee.”

She leaves for the kitchen, but can’t help but glance back curiously…

Ha Linh’s voice pierces through Bian’s mind. “What are you doing?”

Caught off guard, Bian tries to play it off. “What do you mean? I’m just grabbing food.”

“I’m in your mind. I can literally hear your thoughts and feel your heart…”

“Well, you’re wrong. It’s nothing.”

Ha Linh sighs, exasperated. “Whatever. Just some advice. Don’t fall in love. It’s unbecoming of a warrior.”

“Order up!” the chef calls out. Bian, grateful for the distraction, quickly grabs the food.

When she returns with a fresh bowl of hot congee, the man immediately digs in with an enthusiasm that could rival a hungry wolf.

As he takes the last bite, he lets out a sigh of relief. “One more!” The man calls out.

Bian quickly returns with another bowl. “One more!” He cries out again and Bian quickly brings him another one.

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After what seems to be the ninth or maybe the tenth bowl–Bian honestly lost count–the man leans back in his seat and lets out an exasperated sigh. “That was amazing! Best congee this side of the mountains. Thank you!”

Bian smiles. “You’ve certainly had a lot. I’ll let the chef know you enjoyed it. I’m sure it’ll make his day.”

“Really?” The man perks up.

“No, sorry. I don’t think he cares.”

“Oh…” He deflates.

Quickly trying to spare his feelings, “Well, I mean, it’s nice that you cared enough to give a compliment.”

“Oh, thank you… That’s what my grandfather always taught me. My name’s Ngo.”

For the first time, Bian shows an emotion unfamiliar to her—she’s almost… flustered in front of Ngo. “Oh, umm… My name is Bian.”

They share a smile, and Ngo stares into her eyes.

Ha Linh interrupts, “What is happening here? Are you serious right now?”

“Shut up,” Bian mutters to Ha Linh, almost too loudly.

The man, thinking she’s talking to him, says, “Oh, sorry. I’ll stop…”

Bian scrambles to fix her mistake. “No, not you. You can keep talking.”

“I can?” the man says.

“I will,” Ha Linh continues.

“No, not you. You shut up,” Bian says, struggling to correct herself. The man, understandably, remains confused.

Bian tries to balance talking to Ngo and the spirit in her mind, but just then, the door to the inn bursts open once more. This time, a large man, thick black beard, fully armored, and with metal tonfas at his side, stares daggers around the room. It’s obvious he’s looking for someone. And from the way Ngo immediately tries to hide his face, that someone is him.

Unfortunately for Ngo, he is spotted even through the crowd. The bearded man pulls out his weapon and aims it directly at Ngo. “That man is the criminal known as Ngo Khon. We have been sent by the magistrate of Cao Ranh to apprehend and bring him back to face judgment for his crimes. Stay out of our way if you do not wish to be branded criminals.”

The crowd splits, leaving a pathway for the bearded man.

Bian clenches her fists, but before she can step forward, and to her surprise Ngo has somehow sprinted almost fifteen feet across the room and is now inches away from the bearded man.

Ha Linh is impressed. “He’s fast…”

An almost speechless Bian replies, “Yeah…”

With a flash—like lightning in the sky—Ngo brandishes gold and silver nunchucks from their hiding place on his back. He whips the chaotic weapons with expert precision and blinding speed, each motion flowing into the next, almost as if he is performing a dance. And just like that, the bearded man falls to the ground with a thud that rocks the room.

Ha Linh, despite her initial admiration, gives Bian a warning. “Stay away from him. You’re not ready.”

“I’m pretty sure I am…” Bian responds, barely listening to her.

Ngo saunters toward Bian, stylishly collapsing his nunchucks back into their hiding place. “Sorry about that. I didn’t want the guy to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, he wouldn’t have,” Bian says.

Ngo lets out a confused chuckle, “What?”

“At least you still remember you’re a warrior,” Ha Linh adds, still annoyed.

As the two continue to stare at each other, five more men—similar to the one Ngo just took down—burst into the scene.

“Sorry to cut this short, Bian. Gotta go.” Ngo starts making his way toward the exit.

Bian tries to stop him, “Wait, you gotta pay for your food.”

“What? I don’t have any money… I’ll owe you.” He throws her a wink before darting out. The men pick up their ally and proceed after Ngo.

With the commotion over, the crowd returns to their seats just as Madam Hoa walks up to Bian. “You know his food and damages are coming out of your pay…”

Bian immediately snaps out of her love-idled trance. “Wait. What? I won’t have enough money for a room then.”

Madam Hoa gives Bian a wide grin. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kick you out into the cold. You’ll still have a roof over your head.” With her large arms around Bian’s shoulders, Madam Hoa escorts her toward her new living quarters: a bale of hay inside the stables.

“At least it has three walls and a roof. Have a good night! And we’ll see you bright and early for your shift.” Madam Hoa mockingly leaves for the inn.

“So, how do you feel about your boy now?” Ha Linh says, adding fire to the already enraged Bian.

“Next time I see him, I’m going to drown him in congee… Actually, I’m just going to kill him.” Bian seethes.