They rode the sunset

 

Cheng sprang into the air and followed Fu over the tops of the cherry blossom trees. It snowed pink petals from one tree top to another. Soon Cheng caught up to Fu and tapped him on the shoulder. Immediately, Fu took to his sword and almost slit Cheng's throat.

"Don't be an ass," Cheng looked him in the eye as he quickly moved away from the sword. Fu's teeth nashed as if he'd have none of it so they clanked their heavy swords in mid-air, spinning from time to time to keep their balance.

"How did you learn to do that?" Cheng's eyes lit up as if he'd be Fu's best friend yet.

Fu tensed. He wasn't a man of words. 

They went at it again with their swords, dancing from one tree top to another, shaking the petals like a heavy snow. It was amazing there were any left by the time they were done and drifted to the ground.

"Look, Kiddo," Fu's frown was in a pout as he looked at Cheng whom he had pinned to the ground with his mighty sword.

"Don't call me kiddo," Cheng fought back even if he was tired of all the gallant swordplay. 

"You're a kid," Fu's lopsided grin grew into a laugh. 

"I'm old enough," Cheng got to his feet. He told Fu he'd seen a lot of war. He knew the trenches. He'd ridden the plains and lived in enough teepees to last him a lifetime. "I don't recall my mother's face. I couldn't tell you my brother's name."

Fu said nothing but looked at him so angry.

"Look, I know you need us just as much as we need you," Cheng was serious. 

"What would you need me for?" 

Fu glared at Cheng. 

"Milo knows your master to. We just want to save him from the beggars."

Cheng said ever so brightly as he did his best to smile.

Fu was only sullen.

"Oh, and there is that other thing," Cheng shrugged.

"What other thing?"

A cool breeze came from the west. There were showers in the distance. If they hurried back, they could beat the rain.

"Kiss Qing for me." 

Cheng nodded.

"Kiss Qing?" Fu squinted as a strand of long hair caught in his lip. Still, he stood taller and more handsome than Cheng. 

Cheng cleared his throat. He could only hope Qing might be her old self if Fu did him this favor.