Yu Xing's pupils contracted slightly, and his body reacted before his mind did.
The attack was far too slow for him. He sidestepped, and the cleaver sliced past his shoulder, stirring a faint breeze.
The woman didn't stop.
She seemed surprised that her blow had missed, but the smile on her face only deepened. Gripping the handle with both hands, she turned and swung horizontally again. Her movements were stiff and relentless, with no hint of restraint. It was obvious she meant to kill him.
Yu Xing raised his right hand.
He easily caught the woman's wrist, then used the hand holding the summary sheet to gently pull the cleaver from her grasp.
"Miss Wu." Yu Xing's voice was calm, like a psychiatrist patiently dealing with an entire street full of mental patients. Nothing the residents did here could surprise him. "What are you doing?"
Miss Wu tilted her head. A slightly shorter strand of hair swayed beside her cheek, and her weary face twisted into a strange smile.
"Didn't I tell you?"
Her voice was soft, with the same hoarseness as over the phone.
"If a mannequin tries to chop you with a knife, you just have to remove its limbs."
Yu Xing watched her, taking the opportunity to examine her more closely.
She wore a pale apricot qipao.
The fabric was excellent, its sheen as smooth as water. In the dim light, it gave off a faint luster, and subtle patterns shimmered across it. They were only visible up close: trailing flowers, one after another, winding along the curves of her body.
It was tailored so closely.
The waist was fitted just right, neither loose nor tight, as if the dress were a second skin grown from her body. Its high collar framed her slender neck, and the