JIN LING
My hand has stopped hurting. I keep it close to my chest. My finger brushes the bandage — the cleanest one I’ve ever had.
Sleep comes easy when there’s a roof. Four walls. I make my bed in the far corner, back to the tiles. Chma has left Dai’s laundry pile in favor of my warmth. He curls against my full belly, rattles me with a lullaby of purrs.
No knives. No rats. No hunger. Just rest.
And Dai.
The older boy lies in the middle of the room. Coiled like a snail. Hidden deep in his shell. His breaths echo all over. Remind me — even when the dreams start edging in — I’m not alone.
I could get used to this.
12 days
JIN LING
The rice cake is sweet. Honey drips over its sides, makes my teeth ache when I sink them in. Mei Yee sits behind me. Her fingers run through my thick, tangled hair. Soft, gentle, never hurting. She pulls it apart into three sections. Starts to weave them into one.
“The braid is always stronger than the strand.” Her melodic proverb floats over my shoulder.
I should tell her that my hair is too short. There’s nothing left to braid. But honey sticks in my mouth. Catches all my words. I try to turn, try to see her. But the dark is closing in. Dream’s end.
The sweet of honey on my teeth, my long hair, my sister’s voice. All of it’s gone.
The dark in front of me shifts. It’s Dai. Getting up. Creeping toward the door. Like a ribbon through the air: silent, graceful. The way some people move when they don’t want to be followed.
I don’t move until the door clicks shut, the stairwell’s light swallowed back into pitch dark. Dai’s footsteps sound like raindrops. Fading fast.
He’s leaving. But why?
I pause at the door. Each step grows fainter. Slipping away. If I wait too long, I won’t be able to track him. Part of me wants to go back to sleep. Forget this ever happened. It’s the same part that wants to trust Dai. That wants to believe he’s worth trusting.
But trust hasn’t brought me through two years of knife fights and hunger. Dai’s hiding something… This might be my only chance to find out what.
I don’t bother knotting my bootlaces before I rush out. Stairs whip under my feet. Two, three at a time. Threaded through with my silver cat stalker. Soon I’m out in the streets shadow-hopping and alley-weaving. An awkward rush to catch up to Dai.
It’s so late even the restaurants are empty. Tanks of fresh fish and eels bubble like electric crickets. No cigarettes burn in doorways. No old men crouch on steps sipping cheap liquor. Even the vagrants are asleep.
Dai moves ahead of me. He walks fast, hands shoved in his pockets.
I follow. Keep my distance. He moves to the end of the street, where the line of hanging pipes stops and the buildings’ soggy concrete walls fold open to air. The outside, star-studded night. I look for Cassiopeia, but the angle isn’t right. All I see are a truck’s taillights — red and shouting — like dragon’s eyes. A wind knifes through the gap, cool and careless and dark. This is the end of Longwai’s kingdom. The entrance to City Beyond.
But Dai doesn’t step over. He leans against the wall. Arms crossed. One knee up. Minutes pass. I crouch in a shallow doorway. Watch the older boy as he watches City Beyond. Waiting.
Then he stands straight again. His shoulders go rigid. A man-shaped shadow appears. Fills the empty space next to Dai. The hood of his jacket drapes far over his face. I can’t see anything past the bridge of his nose.
I hear him, though. Every word. His voice is brassy. Not loud, but strong. Like a temple gong. “Are you staying out of trouble?”
Dai nods. The action looks more like a bow.
The man-shadow pulls a tightly bound wad from his pocket. He offers the package to Dai. It hovers between them.
“Take it,” the man says. “You know how she worries.”
“I’m doing well enough on my own.” Dai frowns.
“You mean risking your neck?” The man pushes the parcel into Dai’s chest. His voice drops low. “You’ve been doing work for the Security Branch, haven’t you?”
Dai stares at the man, his mouth grim.
His visitor sighs. “Look, I know — I know they’ve made promises, but you have no obligation there. You need to stay safe. That’s your biggest priority until we can get you out of here.”
“And when will that be?”
“We’re getting closer…”
“It’s been two years!” Dai’s yell isn’t very loud, but it sets me on edge. He’s always so calm and even-keeled. Like a paper boat set in a shallow puddle. Something about this man is wrecking him. “Two years! If you could’ve pulled me out, you would’ve by now. I’m running out of time. I can’t just sit and do nothing!”
“Nothing,” the man continues, unshaken, “is exactly what you must do. Stay here. Stay alive. If Longwai finds out who you are…”
Dai looks away from the hooded man and the package pressed against his chest. His eyes bore back into the streets. This dark maze of silent doors. His stare slides past my stoop. My heart turns to lead.
“Where’s your jacket? Are you even staying in the apartment?”
Dai shrugs, but he still isn’t looking at his visitor. He’s staring at the ground. At the shards of liquor bottles, layers of mortar and filth. And my stare is on him. Trying to answer the monsoon questions rumbling in my head.
Who is this man? Who is the “she” he talks about? Who is Dai?
“She worries about you. I worry about you. We already lost—"
“Don’t!” Dai’s head snaps up. Jaw set. Chin sharp. “Don’t talk about him.”
Some agreement I can’t hear or see passes between them. Dai’s arm closes across his chest, tucks the bundle like a sleeping child. The same way I hold Chma.
“We won’t lose you, too. This will end,” the man says. “I promise.”
“Why do you even bother?”
“You know why,” the man says.
Dai isn’t smiling or frowning. His face is flat when he turns away.
I shrink back, but Dai isn’t looking at the hidden corners he passes. His walk is full of energy. Purpose. He stares straight ahead, as if he wants nothing more than to get away. The man-shadow stands on the edge of City Beyond, watching Dai’s every step.
Then they’re both gone. Wind howls through the gap they left, a lonely, wailing sound. It cuts into my bones. Punches a hole through my chest. My fist clenches tight. Remembers the hurt under the bandage.
The wad the man-shadow pressed into Dai’s chest had to be money. How else could he hold keys to an apartment or wedge a gun into his untorn jeans? But why would the man-shadow give him money? And if Dai has money, why work for Longwai? If the man-shadow wants him to stay hidden, why is he sitting right under the Brotherhood’s nose? What is the Security Branch? How is Dai working for them?
And the biggest question of alclass="underline" Why can’t he leave?
It seems Dai has more secrets than scars. Secrets that involve Longwai and Dai’s risking his neck. Which means, all this time, he’s been risking mine.
Kuen and his knives, I can handle. Dodge, duck, hide. That’s all it takes. But Dai… he’s a different kind of danger. Made of sweet and sleep and safe. The kind that creeps up while you’re dreaming. Stabs you in the back.
I never should’ve broken the second rule. Never should’ve let myself get closed in by his four walls. A place with no room to run. What good is a locked door when the threat might be inside?
I’ve survived two whole years on these streets. I don’t need anyone to save me.