Chapter 45: My Turn

"I am here. Dare you kill?"
Cai Lin stared as if meeting her for the first time—disbelief filling his eyes.
He had bullied Guangwen Hall for years, pampered until he walked sideways. Today he only meant to teach Shen Miao a lesson. She had not cowered—she fought back—and now the words made *him* look cornered.
Would he dare?
Even with nerve—could he? The Cai heir might act on impulse; the Cai house could not. Kill Shen Miao today and Shen Xin might cut the whole clan down before begging the throne.
Besides—he did not dare.
Mouth games only. Never battle. Never blood. His foot archery hit apples and birds—not men.
Still—no retreat now. A girl unafraid; a man who flinched would not leave home tomorrow.
Pride returned loud. "Talk as you like—skill shows on the range. Laugh now—maybe you'll piss yourself later." Crude on purpose, hiding panic. Her calm fed his fear; he needed her flustered to quiet his own gut. He hoped shame would crack her.
Any normal girl, scolded so by a boy, would twist, blush, weep. Shen Miao only glanced—still water—until he felt the fool was himself.
He wondered if he had lost his mind—how could he feel guilty before the capital's rough pack?
She took the apple from the judge—fist-sized, square below, round above—and stood at the east edge of the stage, fruit on her crown.
Noise rose in the hall.
"Brave face—scared inside," Yi Peilan laughed. "Can't wait to see her bawl."
"Never before a woman challenged in martial arts at Ming Qi review," Jiang Xiaoxuan said, finger curled. "Shen Miao is first. Shame in public—frightening to think."
"Why is Fifth Girl still up there?" Ren Wanyun worried. "If Young Master Cai misses—" If harm came, Shen Xin would not spare the house—even for kin.
"Why worry, Second Sister-in-law?" Chen said light. "Children's play. Master Cai is no infant. If Fifth Girl softens, begs a little, he won't press—if only she hadn't been stubborn."
She called life-and-death *play*. Ren Wanyun ran the house—would bear blame. The words fit Ren's heart: all Shen Miao's pride—had she knelt and pleaded, none of this.
"Rest easy," Chen said. "Master Cai only wants to scare her. On review day everyone cares for grace—no stopping now."
"Don't fret, Mother," Shen Qing added. "Cai Lin's archery is excellent—he won't miss."
Qing still dreamed of prince consort—wanted Shen Miao destroyed in public. Some people, shocked deep, lost control of body—would Fifth Girl?
If he missed… ruin her face—not bad, Qing thought.
Yue did not think so far—only wanted kneeling and begging to restore pride. She looked at Cai Lin; he did not look back.
Cai Lin gripped the longbow. Three zhang to Shen Miao—cold sweat rivers down his face.
She stood quiet. Wind snapped wide cloak—purple hunting—features clear, bearing like weather after great storms, light on her that blinded sidelong eyes.
He drew slow. *Just beg. One tear. One plea—I'll humiliate you and escape this trap.*
Wish failed. Her face did not know him.
Yue frowned.
Why no tears? Why did Shen Miao look calmer than the archer?
Whispers turned. The old fool-label cracked. Not every girl stands before a drawn bow unmoved. *Like father—like daughter.*
Cai Lin's hands shook. Three zhang to an apple—child's play any other day—today an ocean. Distance stretched.
Her voice in his skull: *I am here. Dare you kill?*
Dare? Dare? Dare?
*Whish*—arrow flew—
Wobbled midair. Fell.
Never touched her hem—weak as beginner's hand. Apple untouched.
Laughter rolled the hall.
"Cai Lin—gone soft on beauty? Ten zhang you nail—three zhang today you fail?"
He wiped sweat, strung again. Second arrow—her feet.
Third skimmed her hair knot—knocked the apple—hair tumbled black over shoulders.
Even when steel kissed past her cheek—no flicker on her face.
Black hair, purple robe, snow skin—straight in wind.
Cai Lin's hands failed. Bow and arrows clattered. Silence swallowed everything.
Even fools saw it—the afraid one was not Shen Miao. It was Cai Lin.
*I am here. Dare you kill me?*
He dared not.
She dared.
Smile thin—beast-clear eyes held a thread of cruelty on a face still half child—strange beauty.
"Now. My turn."