In a land that is not hers or of the dynasty, she clings to what will make her last. There is no spirit that wishes to fight, no bravado, just some strand that will do what it must to last and uphold her dignity.
He speaks of where he comes from and Lihua knows she is not amongst a man of her people, and that he is born of a world entirely unfamiliar to her. The deep laugh that emanates from his chest unnerves her and she pales in his presence. To fight, like a man? It would disgrace her.
“Your people must be hardy,” she can only say. A shock hidden in prettied words.
