Cheng took considerable pride in how much I put away, and she joyously encouraged me to keep adding to it.I did my best, but even I have a limit; a highly complimentary limit, but a finite one.Shortly thereafter, I discovered another thing I liked about Chinese culture, they love to package up their hugely excessive leftovers and give them to the guest of honor. That may have been something they did just for me this time, but it was this time that mattered the most to me, so I considered it a triumph of Chinese culture.I was given enough food to EASILY last until Monday's lunch, so it looked like I'd be eating Chinese for lunch after all.Between their fantastic food, their very friendly dinner table atmosphere, their generosity with the aforementioned fantastic food, and their giving away their daughters into sexual servitude, I was rapidly becoming a fan of Chinese culture.#1: Prof and Vanessa told us that the Wests had asked them several questions about me, and they'd listened. Is that where I had come from? Had I stepped off a ship onto a lonely dock and followed a trail up to the inn? Or was I a traveller resting at the inn as I passed along the road? I thought about what the rat had said about my fighting ability. Both the rat and I seemed to have outclassed our attackers with the sort of skill that was probably the result of long training or experience. The most audacious and unexpected swings of my blade seemed to come naturally, and I could predict my opponent’s actions long before they happened. Perhaps even before they’d thought of it themselves. It struck me as odd that although I’d lost my memory, I still remembered how to fight. It was strange as well because I didn’t feel like much of a hero. Whatever bravery I’d had as a warrior hadn’t been preserved along with my swordsmanship. Or maybe it was that in my past life I’d been a great warrior who just pretended to be brave while inwardly feeling like a coward. ‘Admiring your reflection in the.
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