Daiyu eyed the bot with its impassive digital touch pad as a face. “Couldn’t you hold my rope instead?”
“The belaybot is stronger and absolutely safe. I bought the best on the market,” I said. “You can trust it.”
“I trust you. . . .” She paused. “I’d trust a person holding the rope more.”
Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I nodded. “Okay.” I slipped on my own harness and pulled the length of thick rope from the belaybot, then made a figure-eight knot for Daiyu, looping it through her harness. I gave the rope another tug to make sure everything was secure. “Tell me when you’re ready to climb and ready to come down. Make sure I give verbal confirmation each time.”
I hadn’t belayed for another person in a while and checked the locking carabiner on my belay loop before adjusting my grips on the thick rope. “Just select the handgrips easiest for you to climb up the wall,” I said. “Use your legs as much as you can to push upward.”
“Ready,” she said to me.
I nodded. “Climb. I’ve got you.”
She began scaling, quite quickly, up the rock wall. She was tall and lean but had muscle definition in her arms—something else that surprised me. I pulled the rope, taking up the slack as she climbed farther up, without hesitation.
“Do you work out?” I asked.
“I’ve got a personal trainer,” she replied without glancing down.
“You’re really good.” In fact, she was doing great for her first climb. “When you’re ready to come down, say ‘take’ and wait for my confirmation. Then put your feet in front of you so your legs are parallel to the ground and sit back. I’ll bring you down.”
“I did it! I reached the top!” she exclaimed.
The belaybot beside me played a single bell being rung, then cheering noises. I glanced at it in surprise, and Daiyu laughed before saying, “How do I keep going?” She was searching the grips on the overhang across the ceiling.
“Don’t,” I said. “That’s too advanced for a first climb.”
She ignored me. I felt her weight shift, tugging against my own harness as she reached overhead and found an overhang grip. I worked the rope, cursing in my head. She was safe enough, but if she fell off the wall, it’d still be a heart-stopping and nasty surprise. I was confident I could break her fall, but if something went wrong due to a fluke, I couldn’t afford to have Jin’s daughter hurt, much less seriously injured. If that happened, Jin would have me jailed, or simply send one of his thugs to beat me to a pulp. And if he somehow figured out our scheme, we’d all be dead.
“Daiyu,” I gritted out, my voice full of warning.
I could hear her breathing, and I risked a glance up to see her clinging at an angle, hugging the overhang. “Just one more,” she said.
Her arms strained as she took hold and pulled herself upward. At this angle, gravity was really working against her, and I marveled over how strong she was. I had expected you girls to be soft. And yes, weak, being coddled and spoiled as they were. She had been courageous in our interactions during the kidnapping; now I knew that she was fearless.
I admired it, but that didn’t make the task ahead of me any easier.
“All right,” she said. “Take.”
“Got it,” I replied. “Sit back.”
She thrust her feet out against the wall and sat back. I felt her weight and began belaying the rope, lowering her slowly to the ground. Daiyu kicked off the wall a little along the way, laughing the entire time. When her feet touched the ground, her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed. Our eyes met and she gave me the most joyous smiles I’d ever seen. My heart seized for a moment. Breaking our locked gazes, I stepped forward and busied myself with her harness. The belaybot rolled over and offered her a towel.
“You’re what I imagine Meg Murry might be like a few years older,” I said, speaking the character’s name in English.
“Meg Murry?” she asked.
“From A Wrinkle in Time.” I straightened and smiled at her. “Meg was stubborn and willful. You’re more daring—but she comes into her own. She’s one of my favorite novel heroines.”
“Ah. A literary allusion?” she asked.
I shrugged as I took off my own harness. “I was a world lit major. I can’t help but think in books.” The first statement was a lie, but the second was true enough. Books were my escapism, my retreat. They were how I related to this senseless world we lived in.
“And who would you be, then?” she asked, crossing her arms, a bemused expression on her face.
“It depends. Anyone from Liu Bei to Edmond Dantès to that poor bastard from ‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’ Ba-dum-ba-dum-ba-dum.” I tapped against the bot’s metal body for emphasis. “Awful business.”
The belaybot rolled away, but not before spouting two indignant beeps.
“I see you tend toward the dramatic.” She laughed. “I’ve read Poe in my lit class, but Dantès?”
“The Count of Monte Cristo by Dumas,” I said. “The hero, Dantès, poses as a rich count and takes years to exact his plans of retribution and revenge.” I realized too late how ironic that statement was, and how close to the truth to my own current situation. But our exchanges couldn’t be built entirely on lies. And if I were to be sincere about anything, it would be in the books that I’d read and enjoyed.
“Between a paranoid murderer going mad and one disguised as someone else to seek vengeance—I’m not sure what to make of you, Jason.” She brought her hand to her chin and narrowed her eyes, gauging me, and I returned her look, until she burst into laughter. “The climb was amazing,” she said as she rested a hand on my shoulder and squeezed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and stepped out of the harness. And for a brief moment, I wondered who was playing whom here. “Thank you. You’re a good teacher.”
The bot rolled over, skirting around me, and took her harness.
“I’ve never tried teaching anyone before,” I said. “But you’re a natural.”
Her face was glowing with a sheen of sweat as she used the towel, a smile playing on the corners of her lips. “I’m going to have to visit you more often.”
My mouth dropped for a moment before I laughed too. “You’re welcome to anytime.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” she said and stretched her arms overhead, as if unable to contain her energy.
I hoped so.
It almost seemed too easy.
Daiyu gave me a casual hug when she left soon after, and her scent, citrusy and floral, lingered on my skin. I spent the next thirty minutes casting knives against the circular target set on the nonclimbing wall, veering wide at first, like some half-assed amateur. My arm was unsteady, my concentration shot. I kept retrieving and throwing, lost in a focused rhythm, until I began hitting the bull’s-eye over and over again.
The weight of the blade—the feel of the cool hilt in my hand—was reassuring and familiar.
It was what I needed.
This was the only thing that made sense to me right now, in this moment and within this world.
CHΔPTER SEVEN
Three days later, Xiao Huang personally delivered a long silver box to my door.