Chapter 24: Tit for Tat

It had been so long since she’d eaten so heartily! After devouring a bowl of pork knuckle over rice with relish, Kaiming let out a loud, satisfied burp—how comfortable. Glancing up, she caught sight of the two men across from her. The two soldiers, shocked by her uninhibited way of eating, picked up their rice bowls in disgust and fled.

She ignored them, lifting her eyes to take in the surroundings. The food here was beyond compare—carefully crafted meals full of nutrition, nothing like the mass-cooked slop of the other side. Clearly, the Lord Commander placed great importance on this group.

She was beginning to understand why the training grounds for the close attendants were located so near the nobles’ quarters—no wonder ordinary soldiers weren’t allowed in; there were secrets here. Ji’s residence was right next to their dormitory, and this group of elite soldiers was personally trained by him.

Speaking of the dormitory, she was the only woman among the ten soldiers chosen as close attendants and, as special treatment, was assigned a room to herself. She’d been delighted at first—at least she wouldn’t have to endure sleepless nights from the noise of “bombers.” The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why that diligent little Miss Qiao hadn’t been selected. After all, Dai Yuheng was her cousin, wasn’t he? Or maybe he just didn’t want his cousin serving the Emperor.

Well, the Dai family was always at odds with the Emperor, never hiding their intentions, making it clear they aimed to seize power. In the end, who would prove more cunning—the Emperor or the Dai family? For someone like herself, always leaning with the wind, which side should she favor? Kaiming chewed her chopsticks, calculating her odds.

“Fall in immediately!” A loud male voice rang out at the canteen entrance.

The scattered soldiers instantly dropped their bowls and lined up smartly. Kaiming dawdled to the tail end of the formation, sneaking a glance—the others all stood upright, chests out, looking sharp and imposing; only she seemed like a misfit.

A soldier with an unfamiliar face, dressed in the uniform of a senior, swept his gaze over them and barked, “Meal time is over. Proceed to the training ground!”

Kaiming cursed inwardly. Did they have no concept of health? Who starts training right after eating? You need to rest a bit at least. But she dared not complain, shooting the drill instructor a resentful look as she jogged after the group.

They ran into a quiet compound—an open space with unusually high beams supporting the roof. Several mats were scattered across the cement floor. Along the edges, as one would find in a martial training ground, a collection of swords, halberds, and crossbows stood ready.

Curious, Kaiming looked around. This was a perfect space for grappling and wrestling—the room was spacious, skylights kept it from feeling stuffy. She was so absorbed in looking around that she nearly bumped into the person in front of her when, suddenly, a command rang out: “Halt!” She quickly pulled back her foot just in time.

She felt someone’s gaze upon her. Boldly, she met it, only to see the Lord Commander himself, wearing the same outfit as that morning, arms folded, watching her coldly.

She had no chance to avert her eyes before Ji looked away first, turning his attention to the nine male soldiers, deliberately overlooking the inattentive woman before beginning a long speech. “You are soldiers carefully chosen. The elite of my inner palace…”

Kaiming had a bad habit: whenever a superior started speaking, her mind would go blank. No matter how impassioned the speech, not a word made it into her head. Ji’s words only made her drowsy.

She couldn’t help but let out a huge yawn. Suddenly, Ji’s gaze shot toward her. Her yawn stuck awkwardly on her face, half-finished. The male soldiers turned their heads to follow the Lord Commander’s glare. Kaiming flushed crimson, feeling like a thief caught red-handed, wishing she could disappear into the floor.

“Seems someone didn’t get enough rest. Go stand aside and wake yourself up!” Ji’s face was thunderous, treating her careless act as an affront to his authority.

Like a defeated rooster, Kaiming hung her head and shuffled to the edge of the field, standing stiffly. Oh well—she’d just eaten; she’d take it as a midday rest.

After the speech, the men began with warm-ups, then practiced sparring moves, rolled on the mats, and finally worked with weapons.

Watching round after round, Kaiming’s eyes grew glazed, as if she were watching a troupe of monkeys. Drowsiness overcame her, and her eyelids drooped lower and lower.

Suddenly, something hard struck her leg—not too hard, but enough. Caught off guard, her knees buckled and she sank to the ground. Laughter erupted around her. Furious and embarrassed, she looked up to see Ji standing beside her, holding a long staff, face stern.

“I told you to stand as punishment, not to sleep!” Ji’s face was dark as thunder. “Kaiming, step out!”

She hesitated, confused. Ji barked again, “Step out!”

“Yes, yes,” she stammered, scrambling to her feet.

“Form a circle, all of you. Stand properly,” Ji ordered, pointing out positions with his staff. “I’ll give you a demonstration.”

A demonstration? Kaiming’s eyes widened in alarm—surely he wouldn’t use her as his practice dummy?

“Bring her a staff,” Ji commanded. Someone promptly handed her one.

Her mind buzzed like a beehive as she took the staff, shocked awake, then so nervous she nearly dropped it. She clutched the weapon, not knowing what to do.

She looked plaintively at the energetic Ji, hoping he’d change his mind and spare her.

But Ji had no intention of relenting. He gave the staff a flourish and assumed a stance. “This is the first form.” His right foot slid forward, the staff arced up and then came crashing down from above.

Instinctively, Kaiming raised her own staff to block, only to feel a tremendous force slam down through the wood. Her wrists vibrated, her arms went numb, and she lost her grip—the staff clattered to the floor.

“Pick it up. Continue,” Ji said mercilessly.

She had no choice but to pick it up and keep going as his sparring partner.

“Second form, third, fourth…” Ji called out the key points while demonstrating each move. Kaiming barely heard a word, dodging left and right, desperately evading his unpredictable attacks. What infuriated her most was that Ji showed no mercy—her arms took several hits.

“Tenth form.” The staff swept in low, striking her ankle. She collapsed in defeat. The male soldiers snickered behind cupped hands. In a fit of pique, she tossed the staff aside and simply sat on the ground, refusing to get up.

Ji approached, planted his staff on the ground, crouched down, and looked at her. “Is this all you’re capable of?”

She shot him a fierce glare but dared not reply.

“I thought you were promising, which is why I selected you for the close attendants. Who knew you’d be lazy and gluttonous, with no ambition at all.” His words were sharp as knives, making her burn with shame. But what he said next was like tossing a spark into a powder keg: “Mou really died for nothing.”

Kaiming stared at him, stunned. Mou really died for nothing? Was that something a member of the Dai family should say? How did Mou die, if not because of you… because of you…

Ji moved away from her, shouting at the men, “That’s it for this morning’s training—dismissed…” Before he could finish, several surprised cries rang out: “Lord Commander!”

Ji didn’t have time to react. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain behind his knee, as if someone had kicked him. His leg buckled involuntarily and he knelt. Realizing what had happened, he gritted his teeth and shouted, “Kaiming!”

The soldiers had only seen Kaiming spring up from the ground like a cannonball and charge at the Lord Commander. Before they could react, she’d delivered a swift, precise kick to the back of his knee. Everyone stared, dumbstruck.

Kaiming had kicked Ji because she suddenly remembered a childhood game—no matter how strong someone was, a kick to the back of the knee would bring them down. Acting on impulse, she’d chosen this move purely out of spite—and it worked. Even the formidable Lord Commander had been forced to kneel.

She looked at Ji’s awkward state with unconcealed satisfaction, all fear forgotten. Her expression said plainly, “See? Even you can have your day.”

Ji got up and saw her look. He glared, advancing on her.

Kaiming took a step back. He was her superior, her instructor—no matter how indifferent she acted, she still respected him deep down.

Ji suppressed his anger, gave a cold snort, and said, “If hatred can fuel your fighting spirit, then keep at it.” He turned to the others. “Dismissed.” With that, he strode out.

Kaiming stared after him, mouth agape. She wasn’t punished? She’d kicked him and was almost praised for it—if that could be called praise. What was with this Lord Commander? Did he enjoy being kicked? She couldn’t make sense of it.

The male soldiers were even more baffled, scratching their heads in confusion.

She spent the afternoon on edge, but the Lord Commander showed no sign of bearing a grudge, leaving her even more at a loss as to his intentions.

Just after she’d settled in for the evening, there was a knock at her door. Ji stood outside, delivering a cold message: “Given your performance, starting tomorrow you’ll have a special training regimen. You’ll no longer train with the men.”

With that, he left, leaving Kaiming dumbfounded. So, this was his move—how cunning, truly cunning.

The next day, Ji indeed devised a specialized regimen for her. The entire morning’s long-distance run nearly ruined her legs. Then, there were a hundred push-ups—with a willow switch for every one she failed. Then underwater breath-holding, balancing bowls while holding a horse stance, walking a tightrope—she felt like a monkey in a circus, the challenges unending. She grumbled ceaselessly but had no choice.

Finally, after a week of this, she couldn’t take it anymore and decided to protest in her own way.

She knew the Lord Commander didn’t eat with the soldiers; his meals were brought to his room by the guards, but the food all came from the same kitchen.

One morning, she feigned a stomachache, left training early, snuck into the kitchen, and greeted the cook. “What dishes are you making today?”

Coming and going every day, and being the only female soldier, she was well-known to the cook, who knew this group would eventually serve the Emperor and didn’t dare offend her. With a smile, he replied, “Not much yet, Lady Attendant. What would you like? I’ll prepare it for you.”

She asked, “Do you also make the Lord Commander’s food?”

“Yes,” the cook answered honestly. “The weather’s been hot, and the Lord Commander seems to have little appetite—he’s barely eaten.”

Kaiming’s eyes gleamed. “I know a dish that’s sure to whet his appetite.”

The cook was curious. “You can cook, Lady Attendant?”

“Of course,” she said, squeezing into the small kitchen and scanning the shelves. “I’ll need some kelp, pork ribs, ginger, and—oh, one more thing: croton seeds.”

“Croton seeds? That’s a laxative, isn’t it?” The cook was puzzled.

Kaiming grinned mischievously. “A lot is a laxative, but just a little makes the perfect seasoning.”