Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Date!!

Bang!

The bamboo swords clashed once more, sending a muffled thud through the air. The woman’s entire body shuddered, yet she managed to catch herself.

But Chen Qi’s lips curled in triumph, a conspirator who’d seen his plot succeed. He unleashed another surge of force with both hands. The bamboo sword in his grip snapped in two. With precise control, he sent the broken tip flying—toward the pale curve of the woman’s neck.

He didn’t stop to see if his gambit succeeded. Using the rebound from the break, Chen Qi gripped the remaining half of his sword and pressed the attack towards the woman’s waist.

Below the stage, the students watched in stunned disbelief: their teacher, twisting her head aside just in time to avoid the flying tip, was nonetheless caught at the waist by the remaining half of the bamboo sword, wielded by that infuriating man.

“Teacher lost!” one student murmured, dazed.

With victory in hand, Chen Qi saw no need for further words. He addressed the woman:

“Nineteen hundred hours tonight, Deep Sea Seafood Barbecue, downtown Z City. Be there and wait for me, all right?”

Beneath the burning gazes of the students and the woman’s expression—a mixture of unwillingness and resignation—Chen Qi drifted away, light as a feather.

...

Half an hour later, in a luxurious five-star hotel in the heart of Z City.

(Chen Qi had no wicked intentions; he merely didn’t want his roommates troubled should he die in another world.)

Alone on a leather sofa, he replayed the battle in his mind: both he and the unnamed woman had underestimated each other, letting several crucial opportunities slip by. If it had been a duel to the death, he didn’t dare imagine the outcome.

This fight had brought him to the edge of a breakthrough in both swordplay and footwork, yet he felt something was still missing.

Spending lavishly hadn’t eased the tension. The thought of the new world at midnight pressed down on him like a weight.

Chen Qi rose and stepped into the hotel’s deep bathtub, seeking relief from the fatigue of battle—he still had a date to keep that evening.

Amusingly, as he settled down, old social anxieties began to creep up, and Chen Qi regretted his impulsive invitation to the woman.

“What was I thinking?” he muttered, filling the tub, berating himself. His body recoiled at the prospect of the date, yet it felt wrong to stand her up.

Still, the thought of seafood barbecue brought a smile to his lips. It was a mischievous whim—he wanted to see what a celestial beauty would look like, enveloped in the pungent aroma of grilled seafood.

After a hasty takeout meal, Chen Qi forced himself to nap, suppressing the restless thrum inside.

...

At 18:59, after repeatedly reminding himself not to stand up a woman who had lost in battle, Chen Qi, at the last minute, appeared at the appointed seafood barbecue restaurant.

Even before entering, the briny scent of seafood washed over him, and he couldn’t help but anticipate how the woman would look after their meal...

A short distance away, a woman in a black leather jacket and sunglasses emerged from a sports car.

Seeing her approach, Chen Qi couldn’t resist teasing, “Wow, I barely recognized you in those clothes!”

She ignored him, heading straight for the restaurant.

“How many in your party?” the cheerful waitress asked, hurrying over.

Since the woman remained silent, Chen Qi replied, “Two.”

The waitress quickly set out two sets of bowls and chopsticks, smiling as she handed them the menu. “Sir, miss, please take a look. Just ring the service bell if you need anything.”

The woman’s silence persisted, and so, striking a grandiose pose, Chen Qi slapped the table and declared, “Bring us the most expensive seafood you have.”

Still no response from his companion. Pushing his luck, Chen Qi added, “I’ve heard certain seafood—raw oysters, for example—are great for virility. Grill us plenty of those.”

Oddly, though he was usually nervous around women, Chen Qi found that provoking this aloof beauty erased his anxiety.

At his words, the woman’s expression finally shifted, ever so slightly, but she said nothing.

Chen Qi, bored now, met her frosty gaze and continued, “So, where should we go after dinner?”

Her silence endured.

“You don’t say anything, I guess we’re heading to the hotel. I’ve already booked a room.”

Bang!

At last, her composure cracked. The leather-clad woman slammed her calloused, sword-hardened hand on the table, eyebrows drawn tight. “Are you done yet?”

Chen Qi was delighted. He sipped the tea poured by the waitress and continued to tease, “So you’re not mute after all! I thought my aura had rendered you speechless.”

The woman fell silent again, and Chen Qi’s amusement faded.

Soon, the waitress brought out plates piled high with grilled seafood.

Still unmoving as a statue, the woman stared at Chen Qi. He placed a roasted oyster in front of her out of habit, then tucked into his own meal.

Oddly enough, after his playful banter, Chen Qi found his mood lifted. The sorrow of possibly dying far from home weighed a little less.

The woman sat rigid, her posture unwavering, watching Chen Qi eat but never lifting her own hand.

He didn’t feel awkward under her gaze. He ate and drank with gusto, then lit a cigarette for himself.

Thanks to his robust constitution, he withstood the first discomfort of smoking. Chen Qi blew a string of smoke rings toward the woman.

She spoke for the second time that night: “Your swordsmanship is average. Your physical strength is impressive. Interested in joining a cold weapon combat tournament?”

Seeing his confusion, she explained briefly, “It’s a tournament organized every three years by martial arts clans worldwide. As the head of an ancient sword family in Z City, I have a few invitations.”

Chen Qi scoffed, “In this day and age, what’s the point of ancient martial arts? Is there any need for such tournaments?”

Her calloused fingers, formed from years of wielding a sword, tensed and relaxed, but she didn’t argue.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and went on, “I could join. What’s in it for me?”

She answered firmly, “You’ll encounter stronger martial artists. Isn’t that the lifelong pursuit of people like us?”

Having adjusted to the taste of smoke, Chen Qi exhaled a flourish of rings and declared, “I’m not like you.”

For the first time, disappointment flickered across the usually impassive woman’s face. Chen Qi, suddenly reluctant to shatter this fragile moment, hesitated.

Besides, he did want to hone his skills in his original world—and perhaps discover if there were others from the “Budding Space.”

So he changed his tune quickly, “I’ll go—and I’ll represent your dojo. If I win the championship, you’ll owe me one unconditional favor.”

“Deal!” she replied instantly.

She stood, settled the bill, handed him a business card, and offered her final words of the night: “Come find me at five o’clock in three days.”

With that, she departed in style.

Chen Qi glanced at the card. Along with a phone number and address, it bore three bold characters: “Liu Qingyi.”

At last, he noticed the oyster he’d placed before her was gone—she’d eaten it at some point without his noticing...