“Preposterous… Absurd… Ridiculous! Have your wits taken leave, Sister Samsere?! What manner of combat gear, let alone degenerate clothing, is this?!”

Launching into Tiger Palm Breaks the Wind, I strike at my Martial Aunt, hoping to get some answer out of her. Despite being an arms-length away, the fiendish woman backsteps my blow, smiling wily all the while.

“Can’t a woman dote on her junior any more? Let alone prepare him for the mission to come?”

“Silence, Aunt! If reason will not reach you, then my fists will!”

I inhale, stepping in with my right foot. Sending a volley of blows at my Aunt’s—no—my former mentor’s head, I aim to make sense of her decision. Still smiling her same wry smile, Samsere appears to be well, Samsere. That is, with two swirls of pasty yellow on her cheeks, tanned skin, braided black hair, and blue armbands on both biceps. 

But, if that were true, then why…

“Why would you make me wear a dress of all things!”

Catching wind of my body in an ornate vertical mirror, shivers run down my spine. Despite my years of meditation and training, I can’t help but freeze in place, studying what should be a peerless martial hero with fear.

Long twin-tails fixed in place by jade pins, a puffy silk gown with lacy fills coloured the edge of night, and a maiden’s face, sitting atop it all, with fear as clear as the sky.

Can this truly be Xie Yunluo? Student of the Snowcave Sect, Twin Ardent Thunder, he who shall sunder even the heavens themselves? The thought renders me breathless. Sweat oozes from every pore. 

“I refuse to accept it, uwaaah!”

Trusting my future to my upcoming attack, I flail at Samsere again—

“Oh dear.”

—Only this time, striking the dressing screen instead. Thus, submitting to my blow, the flimsy wooden cover falls, tumbling and revealing myself for all my former martial siblings to see. 

“Brother… Is that you?”

“My!”

“Wow, he pulls it off really well.”

It should go without saying that I am a firm believer in ritualistic suicide. 

Thus, dropping to my knees, I desperately hammer at the ground, face flushed with heat and shame. 

“A blade, a blade! Someone hand me a dirk or dagger; I cannot stand this shame any longer!”

For all intents and purposes, Xie Yunluo has already departed from this world to the next, leaving behind only a former shell of a once great man… 

“W-wait, my dear Yunluo! Your martial aunt truly meant you no harm; please, stop your tears.”

As she squats in boundless pity, Samsere caresses my cheek with her supple fingers. Humming a time-old melody, she then wipes my tears with a silk handkerchief, meeting me eye to eye all the while.

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“Impeccable…”

“It’s like watching a blooming romance between two young maidens…”

Heat swells in my face again, blossoming in an outburst of speech. 

“I am no maiden!” 

Immediately returning to my senses, I leap to my feet, placing my back against the wall.

“Explain yourselves now! I owe my life, duty, and future to the Snowcave Sect, so I understand the need for disguises in missions, but tell me this! How… How does this relate to our mission and grievances, Master?!”

In this time-old tea room, boarded still by lattice windows and low-wooden tables, I make my claim. My question is to Master Chaoci. Dressed in a maroon-red daopao, he sits firmly in his usual redwood chair, having taken the centre-most position. Well past his ninetieth year, his features, nevertheless, look to be thirty years younger, standing testament to his neigong and inner control of qi. 

Taking care to pay my respects—I bow, watching as Master Chaoci strokes his long chin-hairs.

“Honoured Disciple. While the sight of you in a dress is sufficiently amusing, understand that pleasure is not the only reason for which we call you here…”

His warm contralto quells my embarrassment. But, his hidden sorrow incites only anger in its place. Having been called at the break of dawn, and with little notice, this can mean but one thing…

“It is, Chigetsu… We’ve received word of her whereabouts.”

“Chigetsu..”

I dig into my trembling palm. 

Asagao Chigetsu. 

That oni is the reason for my suffering. The reason for our sect’s downfall. And the reason that among the nine chairs here, why only four are occupied. 

But even so, Chigetsu, for a very long time, was the reason for my joy.

A joy tainted in its origin—a joy, even now, as shameful as it is, I’m not completely willing to toss aside.

“I love you, Yunyun.”

Those awful words. That night eight months ago, I’m sure she spelt them.

If Chigetsu had just said she hated me. If Chigetsu had just said she had forsaken all that is good, this would’ve been so much easier.

I look up at the ceiling, with a sharp swallow to push back my tears, then back to my brethren.

“...So, the traitor has been found.”

“Indeed. And we have reason to believe she has escaped to the West—to be precise, France.”

“France?” How curious. “Does she yearn for snails and butter-drenched vegetables?

Master Chaoci strokes his snow-white whiskers. “It is hard to say. But the facts are indisputable.” 

He gestures with his right hand, and a disciple follows. With an audible click, a full-coloured image is projected onto the nearby wall. Just as said, Chigetsu appears in what seems to be France, her pale reddish skin and horns protruding as custom from a bird’s eye view. 

“We received a tip on her whereabouts from one of Grandmaster’s associates.”

“I-I see…”

The sound of a quickened heart echoes in my ear—the senses, which I’ve trained over countless years, overwhelmed in an instant. Swallowing fear, sorrow, and betrayal, I do my best to save face and maintain an impassive expression. All to no avail. Among my peers, all cast their eyes on me; brows furrowed in pity and anguish. 

All I can hope is that they do not see that I still care for her. How, even now, I struggle to fathom how I might kill her for Grandmaster’s sake.

“Forgive my impertinence. This student still has much to learn.”

I bow in silence. Suppressing what remains of childish passion, I steady my gaze, scanning the baked clay flooring with impatience. But, even now, fervour gets the better of me. Unable to bear the foreboding silence, I lift my head, directing my query to the master beyond. 

“When shall I head forth?”

Illuminated by wayside whale oil lanterns, Master Chaoci’s eyes flicker in answer. 

“Tomorrow. Alongside Sister Samsere, you will take a plane to Saint-Ys from the Shanghai airport.”

“Very well!”

Thus, my reason for coming becomes clear. And, my purpose ahead, illuminated like the future of our glorious sect. And thus, only one question remains… One imperceptibly difficult conundrum I’ve yet to understand, much less come to terms with.

“Though, might I ask what crossdressing has to do with all of this?”