The Seven Weapons III: Patience

The Seven Weapons series, volume three.

When Be Ye closed the book, his knuckles left a faint mark on the cover of The Sword Sutra.

He had taken a seat in the old wicker chair by the window three hours early. The Blue Mountain coffee before him had gone cold and been topped up, only to go cold again. In the empty seat opposite, blade intent licked at his sword sense like a serpent's tongue.

"Xia, bring this gentleman another hot cup." The owner, Old Zhou, wiped a glass, his gaze sweeping over the broken sword wrapped in red cloth on the wall. "People waiting for a blade fear most of all that impatience will set their hearts aflame."

Be Ye lowered his eyes to the coffee stains at the bottom of his cup.

Three kilometers away, Zi Yao's high heels were crushing the puddles by the subway entrance. Two kilometers away, as she took off her lounge uniform, the scrape of her scabbard against the bar sounded like a secret signal. One kilometer away, she stopped in the shadows at the corner by the cafe. Her blade sense peeled away at his sword heart, inch by inch. He could feel her agitation, like a blade tip tugged by a thread, stabbing back and forth under the obsession that she had to win.

The wall clock chimed nine times.

When the door opened, the wind swept the smell of rain inside.

Zi Yao's black trench coat dripped with water, damp strands of hair clung to her neck, and her blade was hidden in the leather bag slung across her body.

She sat down opposite him and tapped the tabletop with her fingertips. "Are sword cultivators always this eager to meet their deaths?"

Be Ye gazed at the blade-light flickering in her eyes and suddenly smiled. "During the three hours you made me wait, weren't you waiting too? Waiting to find out whether this blade could cut the chains around your neck."