“Could someone with a weak lifeforce, a mortal perhaps, use such a weapon?” I asked.
He pondered the question. “Magical items possess their own power. Most of them can be used by anyone. Even mortals. However, the stronger its user, the more powerful the item becomes—as it draws its user’s energy to augment and replenish its own. If this bow is wielded by one with a weak lifeforce, not only would they find it difficult to control, but its might would be greatly diminished.”
“How does this bow draw our energy? It doesn’t feel any different from the others.”
He leaned closer, his breath coiling into my ear. “A weapon such as the Phoenix Fire Bow forms a connection with its user, seamlessly absorbing his or her energy. This makes it powerful, but also dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” I repeated, trying to think of anything but the heat from his body melding with my own.
“Dangerous, because in the tumult of battle, the users of such weapons may not realize how much energy has been expended. Until it’s too late,” he said gravely.
I swallowed hard, recalling Teacher Daoming’s stern warning never to drain myself. Stepping out of his arms, I passed the bow to him. “You, first.”
“Did you have a challenge in mind?” he asked.
“How about one of skill, not speed this time?” I suggested, thinking about my prior loss.
He bent down to pick up two withered peach blossoms. As his magic swirled over them, their color bloomed once more, the petals gleaming like they were sculpted from rose quartz. “Whoever shoots it down from the farthest distance will be the winner.”
I took one of the flowers from his palm, now as hard as stone.
Gone was his teasing demeanor as he stared ahead with narrowed eyes, the bow raised, its string drawn. At his nod, I released the first blossom. It shot up, hurtling away faster than a hummingbird, spinning through the air. Several seconds passed, the flower now a speck in the horizon. With a twang, Liwei’s arrow plunged forward, shattering the petals in a burst of fiery sparks.
An excellent shot. I was unsure if I could surpass it, blindfolded as I would be. It was on the tip of my tongue to retract my earlier boast, to demand a match on equal terms—but I quelled the impulse as I took the bow. Eager to test its might, I ran my fingers over the gleaming string, stiffer than those woven from silk.
As Liwei tied the white cloth over my eyes, his knuckles brushed my cheeks. A distraction I could ill afford, as I inhaled deeply to clear my mind.
Once ready, I nodded. A low thrum broke the quiet, a faint whirling, fading with every passing moment. Almost imperceptible now, yet still I waited, straining my ears. At the precise moment it slipped into silence, my arrow sprang free—whistling through the air, striking with a clink. Something shattered, catching fire with a hiss.
I raised my hand to tug the blindfold down, but strong arms encircled me, the scent of sun-warmed grass drowning my senses. His lips crushed mine, pressing them apart, his warm breath threaded with the lingering sweetness from the wine. I shivered, not from the cold, but the heat surging through my veins. Clutching his shoulders, I held him closer to me still. His mouth slid lower, trailing a scorching path down my neck with a hunger that left me breathless. With my free hand I pulled the cloth away, blinking at the sudden brightness. We fell onto the ground, the carpet of petals softer than any bed . . . my body alight with a thousand glittering sensations.
The first drops of rain were soft and frail, easily brushed aside. But they soon swelled to a torrential flood, impossible to ignore. We lay on the ground, letting the rain wash over us, drenching us as thoroughly as though we had swum in the river.
Our breaths were heavy and uneven, our fingers tangling in the wet grass.
“Who won?” I asked, drifting back to the present.
He shot me an incredulous look. “At a time like this, that is what concerns you?”
“I won.” I answered my own question with a contented sigh.
“What makes you think so?”
“If you had won, you wouldn’t have distracted me. You would have rubbed it in my face. Mercilessly.”
He raised himself up on an elbow to stare at me. “Is that what you believe?” he asked in an aggrieved tone. “Very well. The kiss had nothing to do with how you looked when you drew the bow and hit the mark, even though it had already disappeared.” He shook his head. “Why did I fall in love with someone who takes such pleasure in grinding my pride into the dust?”
My lips parted in disbelief. “You . . . love me?”