Orphans like me.
My neck felt hot, and I wanted more than anything to tear that stupid satin bow tie off and unbutton the tight collar of my perfectly starched shirt.
“You can stop now,” Joseph said, his free hand fisted. “You’re insulting Daiyu.”
I lowered my head to calm myself, to try and curb my ire in the face of their ignorance. What would Victor do? He’d charm and compliment, not risk his cover by telling these oblivious yous the truth.
“I think he makes a valid point, though.” Yongming’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts.
I stared in surprise at the boy who reminded me of the Hulk in a tux, and he gave me a hesitant grin.
“I take walks through the city all the time,” Yongming went on. “There are so many hungry kids without parents and sick adults on the streets lacking the necessary medical care. Raising money for the Children’s Foundation helps; it’s a great organization. But it’s only applying pressure to stanch the wound, isn’t it? We are not addressing the heart of the problem.”
I had thought the guy had wrinkled his brow in confusion at my statement. But he had done it in thought. I had misjudged him—because he looked like a muscle head, because he was rich.
“You walk around the city, man?” Joseph asked, his tone dripping with distaste. “Those meis can be dangerous. . . .” He shut up abruptly, flicking a glance toward Daiyu, who kept her gaze on the bubbles rising in her glass. I knew then that Joseph, at least, knew about her kidnapping. Maybe no one else.
Helen took a small step forward and took her boyfriend’s hand, tilting her chin up. “Of course Yong Yong walks around Taipei. It’s our city, after all. And it’s why he wants to be a doctor.”
Yongming smiled down at his girlfriend and raised her hand to kiss it, the gesture of affection so natural, I could tell it was something he did often.
“I wanted to let you know I can see where you’re coming from, Jason.” Yongming nodded at me.
Daiyu appeared pensive, then assessed me with an inquisitive glint in her light brown eyes. Still clutching the colorful bouquet, she looked like a goddess being wooed.
“I didn’t mean to offend.” I couldn’t rely on grasping Diayu’s fingertips or kissing her hand in apology, and for an instant, I was envious of Helen and Yongming and their obvious love and ease with each other. “I agree that the foundation does good work,” I said. “There’s just a bigger picture to consider. I think you”—I paused—“we lead very insulated lives.”
Joseph’s mouth curled into a sneer for a moment, just long enough for me to catch. It was obvious he didn’t think of me as part of “we” at all. I didn’t know if it was out of jealousy or good instincts, but I’d have to watch my back with this guy.
“No offense taken,” Daiyu said. “I’m glad you said something, because I think you’re right: It’s too easy for us to lead sheltered lives, to fall into just one point of view.”
I smiled, because she was speaking in literary terms now that I was comfortable with and understood. The very opposite of what it felt like for me to be at a fancy gala dressed in an expensive tux.
Yongming nodded, but I didn’t miss Joseph’s slight scowl as Daiyu lifted her flute. “Still, I appreciate your donation tonight, Jason—all your donations.” She graced us with a warm smile, playing the role of hostess perfectly. “I hope you’re all having a good time.”
Everyone nodded, and Helen raised her flute. “You always throw the best galas.”
Daiyu clinked her glass with each of us as a server rushed in with another champagne-filled tray.
I took advantage of the distraction and drew closer, speaking into Daiyu’s ear, “Any chance we can escape for a bit?”
A flush rose to her cheeks.
I needed to leave the crowded ballroom in order to isolate Daiyu’s Palm for Lingyi to access, or, better yet, pick up on Jin’s personal devices. I also really just wanted to get out of there.
“I’d like to put these in a vase,” Daiyu said. “Let me give you a tour of the house, Jason.”
I took pleasure in her friends’ startled expressions but refrained from appearing too smug.
Following Daiyu across the ballroom, the long chamber was aglow with ambient lighting and the sparkle of jewels adorning the guests. She waved and smiled as we passed yous, but didn’t stop to talk. The ones our age were enjoying the alcohol, chatting, and laughing, and their parents acted more reserved, but were also drinking. The small orchestra stopped playing and a single spotlight illuminated a woman sitting on a small dais with a guqin set on a carved stand in front of her. She began plucking on the seven-stringed instrument, and its notes filled the room, soulful and longing; a lament. Conversation tapered off as the guests turned their attention to the woman swathed in a pale green brocade tunic and skirt, her black hair pulled back in a long braid.
Several security personnel in their dark suits lingered along the wall, and one stood near the door Daiyu approached. “Can you step away?” I asked in a low voice. “It was selfish of me to ask.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “I can leave for a while. There is enough food, drink, and entertainment to keep my guests happy.”
She led me through the discreet door, which required a palm scan. “We have so many social and business events here,” she explained without any prompting, “the security ensures unwanted guests don’t wander through the rest of the house.”
We slipped into an inner corridor, no less grand than the one I had been in before. The noise of the party disappeared the moment the heavy door closed behind us. “Do you host these galas often?” I asked, walking a step behind her, noting my surroundings. There were more closed double doors in this hallway. Glancing at my Vox, I saw that the femtocell was picking nothing up. I knew it was unlikely I could access Jin’s devices given how secure the property was. Daiyu wasn’t carrying her Palm tonight—I needed to get inside her bedroom.
“Once or twice a year,” she said. “This charity especially is something close to my heart.”
The corridor dead-ended with a thick wooden door in the Tuscan style, but with Chinese coins decorating the center of each square panel. The door required another palm scan from Daiyu and opened into a rotunda with a wide, curved marble staircase winding up the far wall. The wrought-iron railing of the staircase had an elaborate Chinese dragon motif.
We climbed the stairs side by side, our fingers brushing against each other. I had to force myself not to jerk back like it was an electrical shock.
“I’ve always hosted this gala alone,” she said. “But some of my friends, like Meiwen, did help with the planning.”
When we arrived at the top of the landing, I saw that this wide corridor was carpeted, providing a more intimate feel than the marbled floors downstairs. “Your house is impressive,” I said.