Her initial reaction was that he was a little too self-assured. His eyes brightened at her words. It was as if she were a challenge.
“Is it ever too late?”
“Yes,” she said. “I had one love, but he is dead.”
“Ah,” the priest said, stepping closer. He lingered. His small eyes had a gentle look. They seemed to draw Shulien out. Her thoughts spilled almost like a confession.
“His name was Mubai. He was a wushu warrior as well. We loved each other from the moment we first met. But I had been betrothed to his best friend. When his best friend died, I hoped that our moment had come. But the Heavens are not so kind to us, are they? Mubai blamed himself for his friend’s death. He said he could not marry me for shame. ‘People might say I let him die to marry you.’ I understood his fears. He always tried to do what was right. It is a narrow and rocky path. And so we lived out our days, pining. When he changed his mind, it was too late . . .”