My glass helmet darkened, and Daiyu’s face filled my vision. She had scrubbed the makeup from her face and let her hair down, tying it into a single braid.
“Hi, Jason.” She smiled, and it was genuine. It lit her whole face. So different than the image of the blank-faced girl that had been broadcasted nationwide standing on the plaza of the memorial hall just twenty minutes ago.
“Hey,” I said.
“I saw you in the square. I hadn’t expected you to come.”
So she had seen me in the crowd.
I gave a strained smile. “Of course. I wanted to hear your father’s big announcement.”
Her straight brows drew together. “What’s wrong? You look strange.”
I laughed. A tired but real laugh. “Too much partying last night?”
“That’s a lie,” Daiyu said. “Angela’s been looking for you after my gala and keeps sending me sad messages. Jason, the absent and lost prince from California.”
“Huh. I must keep missing her.” A corner of my mouth tilted up. I could tell by the brief purse of her lips that she didn’t believe a word of it. “So what’s up, Miss Jin?”
“I wanted to fulfill my end of the bargain,” she replied. “Are you free tomorrow for a personal tour of Jin Corp?”
Perfect. I was hoping she’d initiate the invitation rather than my having to ask. Less suspicious or desperate that way. This tour was crucial to our mission, and I needed to gather more intel for Lingyi.
An airambulance landed in the square, a stone’s throw away from me and the sick man, its sirens and lights blasting. Daiyu’s eyes widened in alarm. She couldn’t see what I saw, but she could hear everything.
“Yeah, I’m free,” I said. “Come to my apartment and wear your suit.” I paused. “Please.”
You boys had good manners, didn’t they?
She opened her mouth to reply, but I broke our connection before she could say another word.
CHΔPTER NINE
The paramedics hauled the sick man away after I gave them my cashcard number, saying that I would cover all medical costs. They knew I was good on my word simply because I was a you. The female paramedic said I could call the Three Hills Hospital for an update on his status the next morning, but I didn’t even know the stranger’s name. Lingyi sent me a message in the afternoon that I retrieved from my MacFold in helmet. Arun had seen what had happened in the square and left when the airambulance arrived. She wanted to know how I was and get an update on my situation. Her last sentences read: It was too much of a risk. You shouldn’t have done it.
I deleted her message.
After a minute pause, she sent another message: I’m serious, Zhou. You drew unnecessary attention to yourself that could compromise the mission.
Heat flooded my face, and my vision went black for a moment. My hands were trembling with anger when I spat out my response: “So I should have just let him die? Like any other you would have?”
Like I was forced to watch my own mom die. Flashback to my thirteen-year-old self grasping her fingers—too numb to cry—as she struggled for each rasping breath. I couldn’t picture her face easily now, but I could still feel her hand in mine. She’d squeeze with the slightest pressure in response . . . until she couldn’t anymore.
Lingyi took longer to reply this time as my heart raced in my chest: That’s not what I meant. But the mission has to come first. You know that.
I wanted to scream. Punch the wall.
What if Jin was watching? she went on. You were already on his radar.
She was right. I did know. Our mission was paramount. And I had acted rashly for personal reasons. Compassion didn’t figure into the equation for what we needed to do.
It won’t happen again, I replied.
I know you have a good heart, Zhou. I’ve known from the start, she messaged. Then ended the convo with two pink hearts.
I unstrapped my Vox, threw it on my bed, and rock climbed the rest of the night. After almost three hours of scaling the walls and ceiling, my body finally gave out on me, and I hung upside down from a horizontal bar. I turned off all the lights with a voice command and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the shimmering lights of Taipei below. The 101 was ringed in red neon tonight, reflective of my own moods: Rushed. Impatient. Angry.
Trying to save the sick mei man might have been a huge risk. But I didn’t regret my decision. Seeing him had brought back all the helplessness I had felt when my mom was sick, all the rage. I couldn’t do nothing again. Like I’d done my whole life. I had to at least try this time.
I finally pulled myself upright when I began to feel dizzy, closing my eyes and shutting out the images of my city in hazy neon until I felt more steady. I climbed down the wall, the bot belaying my rope noiselessly as I descended at a breakneck speed, enjoying the exhilaration, like flying. I showered in my ridiculously grandiose bathroom, the only light provided by the glow of Italian glass tiles in sea greens and blues, then tumbled into my large bed, still damp and naked.
I slept a dreamless, heavy sleep, until the buzz of the door monitor woke me.
“Mr. . . .” Xiao Huang cleared his throat. “Good morning, Jason. Miss Jin is here to see you.”
I groaned and stuffed my face into one of my large pillows. What time was it? I peered with one eye at the chrome clock set in the wall above my kitchen counter: 9:53.
“Tell Miss Jin—”
“Er, she’s on her way up,” he said.
“Ha!” I croaked. “Thank you, Xiao Huang.”
I rolled gracelessly out of bed, then stood at the window, caught again by the city view. It was a particularly bad morning, and an impenetrable brown smog blanketed Taipei. These were the days when you felt the pollution most in your throat and nose, scratching and abrasive, when it felt as if you had a film of dust over your eyes. I rubbed my own eyes, as if just the memory irritated them, then ran a hand through my hair.
My door monitor buzzed again. “Jason? It’s me.”
“Daiyu,” I said, my voice thick. “Give me a second. Please.” Politeness was something I wasn’t used to after living on the streets for so long. There was no need for “please” and “thank you” when you were starving, or getting mugged or beaten.
I went into my dressing room, paneled in rosewood, even more extravagant than my bathroom, filled with a wardrobe worth more than most meis could ever earn in multiple lifetimes, and pulled on a black long-sleeved shirt and jeans without thinking. Victor would probably be pissed if he knew I was wearing the same few outfits all the time, considering how much he had spent. Hopefully, he’d never find out. I skidded into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and washed my face before opening the front door with a voice command.
I heard the click of Daiyu’s footsteps as she entered the apartment.