The morning after Lian Ruo's return began with the clang of wooden swords.
The courtyard echoed with laughter and shouts as sunlight spilled across the dew-slick stones.
In the garden, Lian An and Lian Hua stood opposite each other, hair tied back, sleeves rolled up, their practice blades glinting in the golden light.
"Again!" Lian Ruo's voice rang out like a whip. "Lian Hua, don't hesitate. Your enemy won't wait for you to think."
"I'm trying!" she protested, cheeks flushed, her sword trembling slightly under the pressure of her sister's parry.
Lian An grinned, sweat beading at her temples. "You said the same thing five minutes ago."
Her sister huffed, pushed forward—and nearly lost her footing again.
Lian Ruo stepped in, catching her wrist and redirecting her stance. "Breathe from here," he said, tapping her chest lightly. "Strength doesn't come from anger, it comes from control."
