Chapter 43: The Life-and-Death Pact

Autumn wind is usually light and pale—but tension made even flower scent feel sharp.
Shen Yue covered her mouth. "Fifth Sister is a girl—how can someone challenge her in martial arts?"
"Indeed," Chen Ruoqiu worried. "Little Five, don't force yourself. Your uncle is a general, but you never learned these."
Clever words: father a soldier, daughter dislikes blades—acceptable. But fail martial *and* letters—worse. Everyone knew four arts empty; add martial weakness and Fifth Girl was nothing—main line looked smaller.
"But rules can't change," Shen Qing said urgent, tone merry underneath. "Once chosen, you finish—any category. People pick the strong. Does Fifth Sister have a hidden skill—why else would Cai Lin single her out?"
Needle words. Ren Wanyun did not stop her—only smiled. "Eldest Niece talks nonsense. Little Five knows no martial play. If you don't want the stage, Second Aunt will speak to the judge—you're young; for your uncle's sake they won't press."
Sounds kind. It was not. The review stage had never broken precedent. If Shen Miao broke it now, tomorrow's capital would talk. Worse—invoke Shen Xin's name and someone would say the general abused merit for privilege. Fame cuts both ways.
She would never let anyone speak ill of Shen Xin.
"Thank you, Second Aunt. No need." She rose from the women's seats and walked to the stage. The hall quieted; her voice carried clear and stirred the air.
"I accept this fight."
Cai Lin's eyes shifted. He meant to vent for Shen Yue. A man challenging a woman in martial arts—first time. He was used to trouble—parents would scold home—but serving Yue made him glad. If Shen Miao refused, he would mock her raw.
She did not refuse. She came—open, unhurried, purple slowly climbing the steps. Strange feeling in his chest.
As if she feared nothing.
Impossible. He knew her archery better than she did. Never trained—would not know how to hold the bow. Facing what you cannot do—who stays calm?
Acting this well?
While he thought, a gaze caught him. Shen Yue on the women's side—shy drop when he looked—his heart lurched.
Every boy has a hero-and-beauty dream. He was the hero; Shen Miao the ugly bully on privilege.
Win or lose the challenge, he would strip her face in public.
Never let her strut before Yue again.
**Challenge** rules: challenger sets the game; challenged accepts. Unknown endings—why the crowd always watched.
Shen Miao reached the platform.
The chief judge hesitated—a delicate girl, literary challenge between sexes was one thing; martial mockery from Cai Lin was another.
"Fine theater today." Prince Zhou clapped, amused. "Main-line Shen fame drops another thousand feet."
Prince Jing sighed. "General Shen's battlefield honor—and a daughter who won't try." *Worse—stupid. Wrong to accept, wrong to refuse; this pose only deepens the laugh.*
Cai Lin smirked. "I thought of fun rules. Honest foot-archery every year is dull. This year—we shoot at each other. You wear the apple on your head; I shoot. Then I wear it; you shoot. Deal?"
The hall exploded.
The judge jumped—this could kill. She was Shen Xin's daughter. Harm before year's end and who answers the general's rage?
"Student Cai—"
Cai Lin waved him off. "Sir, Guangwen Hall doesn't open exceptions for one person. Challenger names the rule—that's custom. Or is the great general's daughter a coward mouse?"
Yue lowered her head, hiding a smile. Feng Anning frowned, helpless.
"Well said." Hoarse voice—Prince Yu, eyes closed till now. Grotesque face, odd smile. "No special rules for anyone. On the field, does General Shen run because the enemy is strong? Then we understand." He laughed at his own joke.
Shen Miao's gaze went blade-sharp.
Mouth after mouth mocked Shen Xin—as if she were the main line's soft spot. Cai Lin waited for sport; the seats offered malice. Anger stored since rebirth broke open.
Reborn Shen Miao could endure. Empress Shen Miao paid every debt.
Cold: "My father bleeds on the border so you have this chrysanthemum feast—so students bloom in review." Mockery flashed. "Winning here means little. Come back after you've killed on a field, then talk skill. Your rule—why would I fear it?"
Stall in the crowd.
"Why fear? You're skilled—you'll hit the apple. I'm not—if I miss, *you* should fear for your life."
Smile thin. Voice seemed from far away—thunder in every ear.
"Then sign a life-and-death pact. Hurt or die—each bears the cost."
"Do you dare, Cai Lin?"