The Escort Agency

Dogwa’s face flushed with indignation when he heard Chun Xiaoman say that, back in the inn’s courtyard.

“So what if I only know one move? Ever heard the saying, ‘Master one trick and you’ll never go hungry’? One move can still kill a man.”

Xiaoman snorted. She stepped forward into a bow stance, and her longsword slid from its scabbard in a single, fluid motion. She thrust it flat toward Dogwa.

Before he could react, the point of the blade stopped an inch from his nose.

Clang. The sword slid home. Xiaoman turned and walked away without a word.

Dogwa glanced at Yang Xiaohai, who had been watching from the sidelines, and felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. “That was a sneak attack. If we were really fighting, she wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

Yang Xiaohai watched Xiaoman disappear through the inn’s gate, then nodded vigorously at Dogwa. “Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Brother Caocao is absolutely right.”

After a few flattering remarks that smoothed the scowl from Dogwa’s face, Yang Xiaohai slipped away and hurried after her.

He caught up to her on the street, just as she was standing in front of a large compound with a banner hanging over its entrance—the flag of a镖局 (escort agency).

He quickened his pace and followed her inside.

Chun Xiaoman glanced at the young acolyte beside her. “Don’t wander off. The world is in chaos these days; plenty of people are snatching children.”

“I know. I’ll be careful next time, Senior Sister. But can I tag along this time? I promise I’ll just watch. I won’t cause any trouble.”

She saw the plea in Yang Xiaohai’s eyes and said nothing more.

The escort agency was vast and cramped. Wagons and oxcarts crammed the yard, filling every available space.

“There are so many people in here,” Yang Xiaohai said, sidestepping a pile of horse manure.

“That’s normal. The more chaotic the world, the more business escort agencies get. If the whole empire were peaceful, nobody would need them.”

Just as Xiaoman finished speaking, a powerfully built man in a short fighting tunic walked toward them. He was tall—a full two heads taller than Xiaoman—and he moved with the brisk, confident stride of a seasoned fighter.

He stopped in front of them and sized up the woman in the black veil. His calloused hands came together in a respectful fist-and-palm salute, and he smiled. “Is the young lady looking to hire an escort for a shipment?”

“I am a martial artist myself. I hear that every escort agency that stays in business has masters with real skill in their hands. I came to spar and trade a few pointers—martial arts as friendship.”

The escort was taken aback by her directness. People had come asking for切磋 (friendly sparring) before, but a woman? That was a first.

After a moment’s thought, he clasped his hands together again. “Miss, there’s an old saying: ‘Curses have no kind words, and blows have no gentle hands.’ I think it’s best we drop this. As you can see, the agency is busy. All our masters are out on shipments.”

Xiaoman wasn’t surprised. He was a businessman; why would he fight her for free?

She reached into her robe, fumbled for a moment, and produced a tael of silver. “I am self-taught. Please, a few pointers.”

Wang Chengxing hesitated. It wasn’t the silver that gave him pause, but the question of her true purpose.

His greatest fear was that the “martial arts as friendship” line was a cover. She might be pretending to be weak, using him as a stepping stone for fame. The Yuyong Escort Agency had built its reputation on its fighters’ skill. If a lone woman beat one of their men, their name would be tarnished across the martial world.

Who is this woman? Did the Guangsheng Agency hire her to sabotage us? Business is booming this year—why do those scoundrels feel the need to poach territory?

A good escort was not only a good fighter but a quick thinker. In a few seconds, Wang Chengxing had devised a plan.

He took the silver and said, “Since the lady insists, please follow me.”

They weaved through the parked wagons and the noisy main hall until Wang Chengxing led them into a back courtyard.

The unfamiliar surroundings made Yang Xiaohai edge closer to Xiaoman. “Senior Sister… are they planning something bad?”

Xiaoman shook her head as she scanned the yard. “This is an escort agency, not a bandit den. An agency’s most valuable asset is its reputation. If that’s ruined, no one will hire them.”

The back courtyard was spacious. Racks lined the walls, bristling with weapons of all kinds. Young men in black short-sleeved tunics were practicing: some sparring, others training their strength. It was a proper training ground.

“All of you, come here!” Wang Chengxing’s shout made everyone put down what they were doing and gather around.

“Good day, Uncle Wang!”

“Hello, Uncle!”

“Master, have you eaten?”

Wang Chengxing scanned the crowd, then pointed to a quiet, taciturn youth. “You. Tianci. Come out and spar with this lady. Remember: martial arts as friendship. Nothing reckless.”

After saying this, Wang Chengxing pulled another man aside and ordered him to guard the gate and keep outsiders out.

The strategy had two advantages. First, if they lost, no one would know, so their reputation would remain intact.

Second, even if whoever was backing this woman stepped forward to protest, they could always say that the man who fought—Tianci—was just an ungraduated junior. Losing was normal.

And it was true. Though Tianci was an extraordinarily gifted and hardworking youth whose skill rivaled that of seasoned bodyguards, he was officially still a junior.

Xiaoman sized up the curious young man in front of her. She wasn’t picky—she just needed an opponent to test the results of her recent training.

She was about to draw her steel sword when she noticed the boy was unarmed. Fighting with a metal blade against an unarmed opponent felt wrong. What if she hurt him by accident?

Luckily, a training ground had no shortage of weapons. A glossy bamboo sword was handed to Xiaoman.

The boy, however, did not pick up a sword. Instead, he took a long shield woven from dry rattan. It was a strange shape—wide at the top, narrow at the bottom, with two wooden spikes protruding from the front like animal fangs.

He raised the shield and settled into a peculiar stance.

Xiaoman frowned. She raised her bamboo sword and tested him with a simple straight thrust.

Thump. The wooden blade struck the rattan shield with a dull sound.

The boy shifted his weight downward to absorb the impact, then gave a quick push forward. The force knocked Xiaoman’s sword aside.

Her guard was open. In one smooth motion, he stepped forward with his right foot, drove his arms forward, and thrust the shield’s wooden spikes straight toward her throat.

Chun Xiaoman had never faced such an attack. Panic flashed through her. She scrambled to bring her sword back in defense.

But before the blade was even halfway to her body, the spikes had already come to a stop against her neck.

The boy pulled the shield back, stood straight, and clasped his hands in salute. “I concede the match.”