Mei Lin did not have faith in mercy—but she did have faith in pressure.
"Is that the best you can do, Ryan?" she shouted, her voice taunting as she stalked him around the mat like a predator. "I've seen street kids throw punches with more vigor."
Ryan Ashworth wiped the sweat from his forehead, grinding his jaw. "That's rich—since you've been observing me day in and day out for two months."
She grinned. "And I'm still not impressed."
He charged forward again, battling through the sear in his muscles, each movement smoother, more keen than before. But it wasn't enough—least of all for her.
"You're again holding back," she snapped. "Why? Are you afraid I'll strike back?"
"I'd be more afraid if you shut up," he growled.
"Cute," she replied dryly. "From the top. Again. And don't favor me. Do you think your enemies are going to wait because you're fatigued?"
Ryan gritted his teeth, re-establishing his stance. His body screamed in pain, but there was something about the tone of her voice that always seemed to get him to move on. Not encouragement—never that. It was expectation. Pressure. And deep inside, he didn't want to let her down.
Mei Lin's jabs weren't verbal—they were emotional. Calculated. Effective.
"Your footwork's still sloppy," she told him. "Your breathing's off. And that hesitation after every third strike? That's a death sentence."
"Anything else, coach?" he gasped.
She leaned in close enough that he could see the glint in her eyes. "Yes. Stop training like a man who wants to be good. Start training like a man who wants to survive."
His gaze met hers for a fraction of a second too long.
But she didn't flinch. "Again."
He continued. And while his blows weren't flawless, they were better than before.
At noon, she finally made him stop. "That's enough for today," she told him. "Try not to keel over in the garden."
Ryan flopped onto the lawn like a cut tree, grunting.
She didn't bring out a towel this time. Just a glass of chilled tea.
They took refuge under the broad branches of a willow tree that curved low over the private garden of the estate. Ryan leaned back against the trunk, head tilted to the sky, at last able to appreciate the breeze slicing through the heat of the late morning.
Mei Lin sat cross-legged beside him, sipping from her ceramic cup.
"It's odd," Ryan said, breaking the silence. "You're tough on the training floor, but off it… you're sort of aloof."
Mei Lin didn't glance at him. "That's how I was raised. Vulnerability only happens when you let people in."
He turned to examine her. "Did Jane raise you?"
"No." Her eyes fell slightly. "But she saved me."
Ryan remained silent, allowing her to talk.
"I was seventeen. Hunted. Exploited for what others believed I could provide. One evening, I fell in a Shanghai alley. Jane discovered me. Took me in without requesting anything. Provided food, shelter… an escape."
"And you remained?"
"I owed her," Mei Lin said, bobbing her head. "Still do. So I stayed. Trained under three masters—different countries, different styles. Pain, control, death. They taught me everything I had to never be used again."
Ryan stood silent, the import of her words settling on him.
Then, out of the blue, she grinned. "But don't think that's soft. I'll still knock you flat tomorrow."
He laughed, head dropping back against the tree. "Thanks for the warning."
She smiled too—a brief, infrequent sound.
That was when Jane showed up.
Her heels clicked softly on the stone path as she walked across the garden. She stopped when her eyes fell on them—Ryan and Mei Lin, standing together, laughing in the shade of the willow.
Her smile was courteous.
But it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Training ended early today?" Jane asked as she walked up.
Mei Lin stood up at once, bowing. "He worked hard this morning. I gave him some rest before tomorrow's endurance round."
Jane's gaze drifted to Ryan, who was grinning at her. "Enjoying your break?"
"Sort of nice to breathe," he replied, grinning. "Turns out Mei Lin can have a conversation when she's not yelling at me."
Jane's eyes flashed to Ryan. "You look… comfortable."
"Just catching my breath," Ryan answered, grinning warmly at her.
Mei Lin retreated. "I'll see you both tomorrow."
She departed silently, her form vanishing behind the hedges.
Jane waited until she was gone, then turned to Ryan with quiet intensity.
"You like her?" she asked.
Ryan blinked. "What?"
"You were laughing."
"I laugh with you too."
She moved closer, her tone low. "But not like that."
Ryan stood, shaking himself off. "Jane, she's my teacher."
"She's also lovely. Intelligent. Deadly. Perhaps you prefer deadly women."
"I married one," he replied softly, his hand on her waist.
Her walls creaked a little, voice shaking. "I can't lose you too."
"You won't." He drew her into a hug. "I'm right here."
That evening, late after the house had quieted, Jane waited in the courtyard shadows. Mei Lin returned from her walk, taken aback to see her there.
"Miss Blackwood," Mei Lin replied, voice steady.
"I want you to keep away from Ryan," Jane replied, tone as hard as shattered glass.
Mei Lin crossed her arms. "You're jealous."
"I'm protective," Jane bit out. "He's mine."
There was a silence that lasted long.
So Mei Lin leaned back on her heel. "I didn't want him. I was just. considering that he seemed like someone I used to love. Something I lost."
"I believe you, Mei Lin," she replied. "But don't test the boundaries of that belief."
Mei Lin bent deeply. "I never will."
Jane's eyes grew harder.
Mei Lin took a breath. "But you're right. I crossed the line. I allowed myself to feel something unnecessary. That's not my business. I'll keep my distance."
Jane didn't say a word. She didn't have to.
She turned and headed back inside, heels ringing like a threat across the marble floor.
And Mei Lin stood alone under the moonlight, her face unreadable, but her promise silent and true.