The group surrounding her dispersed with haste at the first sign of authority. All it took was a “What’s going on here?” bellow from the watchman for Pia to be left on the ground, lip bleeding, clothes soaked with rain and mud.

The only evidence that remained were her classmates' footprints stomped deep into the mud around her, 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. Grey and brown stained her vision no matter where she looked.

Through the sheets of rain, Pia saw the watchman coming her way. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to brace herself. 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 spread through her chest. 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.

The watchman's steps through the mud were sure and steady. The squelching sound of his boots in the mud sounded loud in the otherwise quiet 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, landing with plops on the sodden ground.

“Seem too old for this,” the man said once he’d drawn closer. His tone was casual and held no bite, but he offered her no hand in aid.

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 iron richness of 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. The distraction quelled her anger, and in the lull, the coolness of the pouring rain sank into her, calming the fire within her further.

“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 a watchmen, but her patience was strained, raw. She felt backed into a corner, like a cornered stray dog in Dwelling forced to lower its head or show its teeth. No one would support her from behind either. Pia tensed the muscles in her legs, preparing for a response from the man. 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. It was little more than a soft finger flick to the skin. It hardly hurt. Still,

Pia scowled, wiping her forehead. Internally, a flicker of respect grew. She hadn’t even felt his yi coming. It'd been swift and precise. Pia looked at the man with a bit more interest. That level of yi control…impressive.

Who was this man?

“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 frustration at getting bullied.

It was more than that but it was the simplest answer she'd give the stranger.

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

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 long gone. There had been no malice in that hit, only a playful flick of power.

After a moment’s thought, Pia had a reply.

"In an army, you have comrades beside you. Brothers willing to stand with you, even to the end."

“Ah, 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 fell between and around them, a curtain of water that soaked them further.

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. Make a break for it? Stick around and risk it? She'd run into trouble once already today.

Here on this southeast street of Dwelling was where she’d run into Mai and Mei’s group.

Dwelling only had one main entrance at the northern side of the village. Back when the village founders were planning the layout, they'd decided that the southern side was well defended by the mountain that towered behind the soon-to-be village. To make the town highly defensible, they built only one entrance and exit. Pia, living in the southwestern side of town, had to go all the way north to use the gate. It was easier to use wind yi and leap up and over Dwelling's border fence. She did it often, without issue. Except, today, Pia leapt back over the southern fence and right into trouble. Fresh from training alone on the mountain, Pia had been totally unprepared to run into anyone, especially not her classmates.

Her face twisted into a fierce scowl remembering the shocked looks on Mai's and Mei's faces when she'd landed, literally, between them. Pia had been just as shocked to see them! The southern side of town, so far from the main entrance, was the roughest part of the village. Businesses and homes had clustered near the north, leaving the south the less fortunate. Rows of tiny homes and shops crammed the southern side of the village. Many of the streets were narrow or came to dead ends. The rather chaotic environment kept most people away from the south. Only those who lived there tended to loiter the areas. Northerners, as Pia called them, only came to the south seeking to hide secrets in plain sight or conduct illicit affairs.

Pia had landed with thoughts only for dumplings and studying and ended up getting a beating instead. 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.

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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.

In for a fight, out for a win, right? Might as well see where it takes me, Pia thought.

Looking ahead, Pia saw the man headed towards a small food vendor built right against the southern wall. Her eyes wandered over the shop. It wasn’t one she’d tried before.

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.

While the watchman walked up to the shopkeeper, 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. 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. Against the bamboo it let out a soft tink-tink noise that relaxed her.

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 people by their stature or face. This man didn’t look familiar to her at all. The more she observed the more Pia felt puzzled. He didn't seem like a random villager.

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 openly stared at 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 soldier, his smooth countenance and calm expression made it hard to determine his age. His sharp, deep-set eyes gave the impression of someone much older than he seemed. Mow had an odd handsomeness and 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 gave her a small smile, but she couldn't make out the expression on his face. What was he thinking? The man must be an excellent gambler. 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 Pia 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, spurring her to respond. 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 certainly a handicap compared to her classmates. Having no family skills to inherit 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. Pia wondered if he was remembering her surrounded by a group of children, getting kicked into the mud. Then, the corner of his lip quirked into a wry smile.

“I look forward to seeing those 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.