Nanowrimo 2022 - Day 15 and 16 Update (Patreon)

I missed yesterday's update, but combined I managed to add 2,297 words to the project, bringing the total to 27,324!

She arrived at the entrance just in time to watch Wei Xiang punch Qui Ling in the nose, his hand coming away with blood on the knuckles. Qui Ling clearly had not simply stood by while Wei Xiang beat on him, though, as the southern prince's eye was already starting to bruise and his teeth were red from the blood coming from his split lip.

Her brother would not stand for his latest blow either. His hand snapped out to grab a hold of Wei Xiang's long, red hair. He pulled aggressively, earning a shout of pain from the southern prince. Qui Ling then landed several punches on Wei Xiang's face, his feral grin widening with each successive hit.

In retaliation, Wei Xiang struck Qui Ling in the throat, making him stumble back choking on his own breath. Hands grabbed fabric, tugging on collars to keep the other close so that they could continue to rain punches on the other's face and head.

"How's it feel to be reduced to a common whore?" Qui Ling snapped as another punch connected with Wei Xiang's jaw.

"Funny," Wei Xiang growled. "I would think you'd have more respect for the profession, given who your mother is!"

Qui Ling roared, swinging his head forward to connect with Wei Xiang's with a violent-sounded crack. "Shut your mouth, you pathetic quim! Let's not forget which one of us lost to a woman."

"From where I'm standing, you don't look like much of a winner yourself."

Rage bubbled under Jin Xia's skin, mixing with the fearful bile rising in her throat to create a dizzying cocktail of emotions. This had to stop. It'd already gotten so out of hand. How could Wei Xiang be so stupid and impulsive to get into a fist fight with the imperial prince? Did he want to lose his head? Did he hate her so much that he'd literally rather die over something as stupid as this rather than live out his days as a consort? What did that say about the rest of her plans that she couldn't even get one person to behave under these circumstances?

That same, sourceless wind from her time in the south kicked up again, bringing with it the thick taste of lightning in the air. Sparks danced over her arms in time with the wild whipping of her hair in the gale. The dangling gems of her hairpins struggled to keep up, their tinkling, jingling song seemingly unending. She exhaled mist and fog through clenched teeth. Her scalp itched terribly, as if something lingered just under the surface like a chick wanting to burst from its egg.

When she spoke, it came out like rolling thunder. "ENOUGH!"