Kiyomi glanced back at Emika. At that instant, his hawkish eyes noticed a movement and they glimmered with something that the chubby man couldn't comprehend.
In the midst of all the panic and shoving from the people around them, the big man saw the flash of a blade in the corner of his eye. It hit his left shoulder, blood streaming in from the wound, thus the left hand holding the knife on Emika hung limp to his side.
Emika was so frightened that she did not care to look upon her rescuer, instead she had swiftly shifted away from her assaillant; at the same time the chubby man tried to punch and lash out at his attacker with his other hand but when he saw who his attacker was his face turned white like paper, as if he was stricken by lightening, and he stepped backward rather than forward.
Whoever her saviour was, Kiyomi let out a breath of relief. He was pushing past the throng of shoulders separating him from the young woman. She returned her gaze to him just to see him throwing a glance over her shoulder and the reaction on his face didn't feel right.
She then felt a cold and calloused hand clamped hard around her wrist. She looked back—it was the man with the folding fan!
He squeezed his way through the crowd, forcefully dragging Emika behind him. She tried to twist her arm away from him but his grip was just too strong, and the more she wriggled her wrist the more it hurt. Her screams for help were drowned in the cacophony of shouts and the ruckus.
Kiyomi charged into the rabble only to be face to face with a line of swords all pointing at him.
A roar from behind him.
With strength, speed and uncanny agility Jian rushed beside the prince, pushed him behind his back, sword in one hand and resolute to defend.
Meanwhile, in moments, the man with the fan had dragged Emika outside. Completely indifferent to her squirming he trailed her in a back alley.
This man was obviously obsessed with her beauty, staring continuously and shamelessly at her, and the thought of being defiled... she almost fainted of fear and shock.
While hauled into the back alley she had pulled out the chai-nie pinned in her up-do and held on it tightly in the hand hidden behind her back.
Even though her heart was beating frantically she tried to maintain her composure. After all, she was the daughter of the Great General Hishoku and, truth be told, she had inherited from her dad his splendid bravery.
Staring at the eyes of her kidnapper, she didn't break their eye contact. His eyes were so washed out that it was hard to tell their hue, like they couldn't be bothered to be any colour at all. And his chiselled and hard features as if he had been cut from marble added to his menacing and cold expression. Upon a closer look the passage of time written on his face was the turn of more than forty years.
Next, the man was looking up and down at her. Tipping his head side to side, brows drawing closer, those eyes examining her didn't show a sliver of lust.
On second thoughts, his expression was similar to the one seen at the market when someone carefully assess the quality of the fruits and vegetables before buying.
A thought flashed. 'Is he going to sell me to a brothel?' Well, if that is his intention she could easily escape by shapeshifting into a cat. The hand holding the chai-nie relaxed a little bit and so did her heart.
The man drew in a breath and holding it for a time before he released it, he next blurted out a series of "Umm… Hmm…" as he examined her face carefully.
Tapping his folding fan against his left palm he shook his head, after that he cocked it to one side.
"Umm... It is -- You indeed."
She might have been mistaken, reading an expression is not easy, but she thought he looked rather stunned.
"You have me confused with someone else. We've never met."
"What are you doing with him? How did you—"
He interrupted himself by snapping the fan open. Waving the hand fan to create a gentle breeze on his face the while into her eyes he perused as if he was trying to decipher her inner thoughts. His amused smile elicited goosebumps rising on her entire body.
"I thought something was strange..." The elegant man chuckled, "He obviously has no clue of who you are... How is this possible?"
Her fearfulness died away, killed by a sudden numbing curiosity.
"Who are you?"
He brusquely reached out and grabbed her by the back of her neck, his large hand and bony fingers clasping hard. Bringing her closer, he lowered his head until his lips brushed past her ear.
"Don't fret. There is no need to stab me with your hairpin."
He was lanky as a beansprout and willow-wand thin that it was hard to imagine him eating much at all, nevertheless, every movement he made betrayed his internal strength that surged inside him like an Amur tiger*.
Emika gave a grimace of pain and jerked away from him. He pursued: "I expect nothing from you now. You are the least of my worries at the moment."
His lips curved in a closed mouth smile then he resumed waving his fan.
A sudden, freezing cold swept along Emika's spine, and with it an overwhelming sense of dread. She sucked in a deep gulp of air and courage before opening her eyes, at the same time enquiring: "Who are you?"
Lithe and light on his feet he had already disappeared around the corner of the alleyway.
Tremors of unease jangled Big Pie Chu's nerves as he left Emika behind. She was a wild card who could thwart his scheming. 'What is she planning. What is she doing here? Hmm... Just what do you have up your sleeve, empress?'
He couldn't allow anything or anyone to interfere with his plan. He was so close to getting what he wanted after decades of longing. He would seize back that which was unfairly taken from his father and given to another, despite himself being it rightful owner.
For now he could only observe what she was up to, and find out as much as possible about her coming into this world. Perhaps she could be of use and fit into his plan.
Big Pie Chu strode through little detours and many windings. Now, as he approached the corridor pavilion of his home, he could see from a distance Little Ping who had been keeping a lookout in front of the entrance, running at the sight of him.
Big Pie Chu called out to him, and with the nobility of a lion and the drollness of a panda, Little Ping rushed to his master as quickly as his damaged legs would carry him. With his deep-set eyes and large head, accentuated by a mane of hair, Little Ping had the appeal of a teddybear.
Big Pie Chu squatted down and ruffled his fur merrily.
But this wild card was still on his mind: The general's daughter kept on worrying him.