Between the Lines of Rain

On the first pass, Shen Xiu cut through the rain beside Gu Tingchuan's shoulder.

On the second, Gu Tingchuan flicked aside a drop of water by her temple.

On their third crossing, both blades slowed by half an inch. There was no technique in that half inch—only five years.

“Why didn't you thrust?” she asked.

“Because I wasn't waiting for you to lose.”