How to be Ravenous
Present Day
Wen Kexing was like a splinter in those early days, an irritating sliver of a girl that got under Zhou Zishu’s skin and refused to be pulled loose.
Zhou Zishu put up with it the same way she did everything else in her life: stoically, unflinchingly, even if it hurt. Maybe especially then.
A cool breeze lifts off the Huangpu River, filtering in through the open window as Zishu picks at a stubborn hangnail, biting at the skin until blood wells to the surface. She is a simulacrum of a person, weaving through the world with little regard for the state of it let alone the state of herself. She exists only when she allows herself to be seen. Right now, she is illusory. Inconsequential.
A knock at the penthouse door has her climbing down from the windowsill and slipping into a more agreeable facade. When she opens the door, Wen Kexing is there staring back at her. Kexing towers over Zishu in red stilettos, large in both stature and presence. Her teenaged roundness has given way to defined cheekbones and a sharp jaw, her features thrown into clear focus under the warm hallway lighting. Kexing’s eyes are dark as ever, still as unnervingly intense as they were years ago. Her hair only makes them more pronounced.
She’s dyed it white. Not platinum; stark white. There’s no hint of her natural color, not even at the roots. It’s a quiet signal of wealth, the kind of style that only regular salon maintenance can upkeep. Zishu keeps her hair dark and short, her pixie cut an inch or two shy of utilitarian.
“Kexing.”
“A-Xu. Can I still call you A-Xu? It’d be weird if I didn’t.”
Kexing’s voice is deeper and a little smoother than Zhou Zishu remembers but that razored edge is all too familiar. Zhou Zishu’s gut grows violent, painfully twisting and knotting up her insides. Her grip on the door frame is deadly, knuckles straining white.
“Everything you do is weird.”
“A-Xu, after all we’ve been through, how can you be so cold to me?”
The slight quirk of Kexing’s lips almost passes for a smile but it falls away as quickly as it appears. Zishu waves her inside and locks the door behind her, staunchly ignoring her trembling hands. Kexing takes a slow walk around the main room, drinking in the view. All the furniture was picked straight out of a catalog and arranged by a friend Zishu met while on business a few years back. Liu Qianqiao has a good eye for aesthetics, not so much for men.
“This is a nice place. Great view,” Kexing says, occupying the windowsill Zishu had left behind. “You’re doing well for yourself.”
Kexing’s tone rises, an unspoken question resting on the tip of her tongue that gets Zishu’s belly roiling again. She sits down next to Kexing, taking care to keep a measured distance between their bodies. Kexing watches her like a vulture, primed to descend at the first glimpse of weakness. Zishu doesn’t acknowledge Kexing’s presence, instead returning to picking at the ragged skin around her nails.
“So, they let you cut people open. Must be a sh*t hospital.” Zishu levels the statement to the floor, which thankfully doesn’t offer up a rebuttal.
Zishu had been able to find Kexing without much real effort, her polished and professional headshot taking up prime real estate on the staff page for a local neurosurgery clinic. According to reviews, Dr. Wen was “courteous, friendly and supportive”. Zishu has a much different set of adjectives in mind.
“A-Xu. You called me.”
There it is again, the ghost of a question hovering in the air. Zishu can hardly remember the conversation. All that sticks out in her mind is her shadowed reflection staring back at her from her darkened phone screen: wild eyed and unrecognizable.
“You didn’t have to show up.”
“This is the treatment I get for coming to your rescue?”
“Who said anything about rescue?”
“You asked for a favor.”
Now there’s an accusation crowding against Zishu’s back, fighting for her attention, and - she really should’ve gotten drunk. She’s torn up more skin around her nails, turned her fingers into a war zone.
“You never did know when to shut up.”
Zishu stands to undo the ties of her robe, revealing the simple cotton underwear set she’s wearing underneath. Heat creeps down the back of her neck while goosebumps race across her exposed skin. Kexing’s eyes grow wide before her expression darkens, a storm brewing from within.
“What happened?” Kexing is up and moving in an instant, grabbing a hold of Zishu’s arm with enough force that her bones ache. “Who did this?!”
Kexing’s biting nails exacerbate a painful bruise on her bicep, a twin to the nasty purpling one spread over the right side of her ribs. Her whole body is colored by violence, a menagerie of damaged flesh. Zishu has made peace with her circ*mstances; she knew what she was getting herself into when she took this job.
She shakes loose from Kexing’s grip and turns her back to her, heading to the kitchen. There’s a dull aching at her temples that only alcohol can cure.
“You wanna beer?” Zishu calls, inspecting the contents of the fridge with mild curiosity. The top shelf is full of weeks old takeout containers, whatever food they once held now sporting fuzzy spots of mold.
“Your cousin did this,” Kexing says, hovering in the doorway like some grim phantom.
Zishu cracks open a beer and takes a swig, eyeing Kexing with a measured gaze. She’s vibrating with rage, something wild and animal in her eyes.
“That’s politics.”
Zishu has been bolstering Jin Wang’s political reach for years, operating on the fringes to keep her cousin at the top of the polls and snuff out any potential negative publicity. The media has been particularly ruthless this month and Zishu hasn’t managed to keep people from talking.
Behind closed doors, Jin Wang’s self-control disappears.
Kexing snatches the beer from Zishu’s hand and slams it on the counter, sloshing it over the side and leaving a mess that Zishu will have to clean up.
“Tell me what you want me to do.”
Zishu blinks back at her for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “Dunno. Why don’t you kill him?”
Kexing doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything, just stands there staring into the middle distance as if her batteries have run out of juice. Zishu rolls her eyes before walking around her, heading back towards the living room. Calling Kexing was a mistake. She let old memories cloud her better judgment.
“I’ll kill him.”
Zishu turns her head, catching Kexing as she stiffly walks to the door. She’s rummaging around in her oversized purse and muttering to herself, the words too soft for Zishu to properly pick out. Kexing is a strange one, age and beauty doing nothing to detract from her…everything else.
“You’re a lunatic.”
“That’s why you called.” Kexing shoots Zishu a real smile, beaming and vibrant, before she’s out the door.
Zishu stands in silence for a while, unable to process the events of the last few hours. Kexing has always had a knack for theatrics, able to cry on cue - much to Zishu’s annoyance. She likes to shock people. Maybe that’s why Zishu called her; a little levity was necessary sometimes. She shakes herself out of her strange stupor and goes back to retrieve her beer before settling down on the couch.
She makes a note to herself to delete Kexing’s number.
(***)
Wen Kexing is stupid.
Wen Kexing is so very, very f*cking stupid.
Zishu is slowly cruising her rundown Suzuki Alto through dark residential streets in search of said Wen Kexing which makes her very, very f*cking stupid too.
She has her phone clutched in one hand, as if it will be of any use to her when Kexing won’t answer her calls. She steers with the other and stares out into the night in search of a phantom. She’s on her third circuit around the block when she finally spots a familiar figure staggering down the sidewalk.
Kexing stands out brilliantly against the slate backdrop of buildings, a glaring white beacon that’s way too easy to identify. She’s dressed for a night out in a tight-fitting black dress and another pair of ridiculous heels that make her even taller than she already is.
Zishu pulls the car up next to her and rolls down the passenger side window to say, “Get in.”
Kexing stops walking and turns and it’s only then that Zishu realizes Kexing is splattered in blood. It’s streaked down her left leg, smeared across her cheek. The wispy strands of hair at her temples are stained crimson.
Wen Kexing is really very stupid.
Zishu unbuckles her seatbelt and leans over to push open the passenger side door, steering her mind away from all the trace evidence Kexing will leave in her car and the cost of cleaning, to wave Kexing in. Kexing slips into the car without a word, eyes glazed over. All she’d said over the phone was, “I did it. It’s done,” but Zishu knew. For once, she wishes her intuition was wrong - not because she holds any love for her cousin but because she hates complication.
They’re halfway down the highway, heading towards Downtown Shanghai, when Kexing starts laughing like she’s just heard the most hilarious joke of her life. Zishu keeps her eyes trained on the road, as she has been for the last fifteen minutes, doing her best to ignore the human albatross she’s effectively noosed herself with.
“The great Jin Wang.” Kexing lets out another peal of laughter. “Aren’t you glad I took care of him, A-Xu? He won’t touch you ever again.”
Zishu lifts her glasses to rub at her eyes, wishing she could claw out the impending migraine. “Why?”
“Because you asked me to.”
Zishu cuts her eyes over to Kexing and the earnestness she finds there brings on a laughing fit of her own. Even now, after all these years without contact, Kexing manages to say the most absurd sh*t.
Because you asked me to.
Because you asked me to.
Kexing is one of the few people who would willingly kill for Zishu, probably off herself too if Zishu commanded.
It’s the kind of power some would exploit, but Zishu? Well, she’s never been that type. Strict, yes, but only because her role dictates she must be. In any business, criminal or otherwise, things go wrong if people aren’t kept in line and Zishu likes to keep her list of f*ckups to a minimum.
She’d never allow someone like Kexing in Tian Chuang. God knows how much chaos she’d have sown, all under the misguided assertion that it was for Zishu’s benefit.
Zishu already has one hopelessly lovesick person in her orbit; two is overkill.
Han Ying is probably pacing the floor of his apartment, likely already having caught wind of Jin Wang’s murder and wondering how Zishu plays into it.
Zishu has several contingency plans set up and they all lead to the same conclusion.
This isn’t what she had in mind.
It was never a matter of how she would leave but when. After ten long and tedious years, her cousin became unbearable and then Jiuxiao died and... Zishu has done enough, lost enough, that there’s nothing left to hold onto.
She’s been squirreling money away, preparing for her own disappearance. A clean break, that’s what she wanted. Now, there are loose ends she hasn’t gotten the chance to tie up, Han Ying being one of them.
Zishu decides that’s a crisis she’ll deal with later. One problem at a time.
Her headache is in full force by the time she parks at the 4-star hotel Jin Wang liked to frequent when he was too drunk to go home. He has a room paid for in advance that the hotel staff keeps ready and waiting, a room that Zishu has no qualms about taking for herself. After all, it’s not like her cousin will be using it anymore.
The front desk staff barely look at her ID, handing her two keycards and telling her to phone down if she needs anything. One of the many perks of being related to the Committee Secretary. Kexing watches on with barely concealed enthusiasm, mostly covered thanks to an old sweater Zishu keeps in her backseat. Under the bright hotel lighting, the dried blood on her cheek is less easily mistaken for smeared lipstick. Zishu saunters off, leaving Kexing to play catch up.
“Wait for me, A-Xu. Don’t walk so fast. My feet are killing me.”
“Nobody told you to dress like a prostitute.”
“You picked me up, didn’t you? I think that says far more about you than me.” Kexing loops an arm with Zishu, leaning heavily against her as they wait for the elevator. “I’ve never killed someone before. Sorry I didn’t know there was some kind of protocol.”
Zishu tries to shrug Kexing off but she clings like a barnacle, stumbling into the elevator with an arm slung around Zishu’s waist. Zishu resigns herself to put up with Kexing’s antics for as long as it takes to get her on a plane out of the country. After that, she’ll never have to think about this night again.
She toes her sneakers off as soon as they’re inside the suite, eager to shower and get some rest. Kexing seems content being covered in filth, more preoccupied with the complimentary bottle of Dom Perignon than ridding herself of her blood stained clothes. Zishu leaves her to indulge while she heads for the en suite bathroom.
There’s a large tub with an attached shower, dark tiled floor, and an expansive vanity that Zishu bypasses to avoid her own reflection. Everything is luxuriously sterile, pricey and clean but devoid of any real substance or charm. As Zishu starts the shower, she relishes in the fact that she won’t have to set foot in this kind of place after tonight.
Whatever path she takes now is entirely her own. The freedom she’s been working towards for months is finally in her hands. What Han Ying doesn’t know, what nobody knows, is that she hasn’t been planning for retirement.
When Zishu imagines the days endlessly spooling out before her, she finds no comfort. As far as she’s concerned, she’s caused enough damage in her twenty-eight years. If she can spend a few months traveling, drinking good beer and eating good food before she goes then she’ll consider that a proper send off.
She probably shouldn’t be fantasizing about dying but Zishu has had a strange relationship with death ever since it became routine.
Zishu washes at a leisurely pace, mindful of the pain in her joints and the healing that’s still in progress. Duan Pengju hadn’t gone easy on her, at her cousin’s insistence. The price for continued loyalty was paid in blood.
“A-Xu?” Kexing knocks once before inviting herself into the room. She stares right at Zishu’s naked body, not even attempting to pretend otherwise. “Can I join you? The tub’s big enough for two.”
She’s still got the champagne, taking little nips directly from the bottle as she waits. Somehow, she makes it look normal. Classy, even.
Zishu can’t find the energy to argue. She gives Kexing a vicious glare but doesn’t do anything to stop her. Kexing leaves the bottle and her dirty clothes in a pile on the floor before climbing into the tub. She’s mostly arms and legs, a slim waist and small breasts making up the rest of her narrow frame. The hair between her legs is very dark, a comical contrast to the hair on her head. Zishu quickly looks away before Kexing catches her wandering eye and gets the wrong idea.
“Why couldn’t you do something less messy?” Zishu asks, nose wrinkling as the water at her feet turns pink.
“The carotid artery is a sure bet.” Kexing keeps scrubbing blood from her skin with a sly smile on her lips. “I thought about poisoning him but where’s the fun in that? He didn’t deserve something easy anyway. Not after what he did.”
“Psycho. How’d you get him alone anyway? He never goes anywhere without his guards, unless-"
“A-Xu, stop asking questions. Nobody would’ve suspected you knew a thing if you didn’t pick me up.”
“No, I was kidnapped by a crazy stalker who has an obsession with me.” Zishu lets her eyes slip shut for a moment, exhaustion rearing its ugly head. “The cops take one look at you and it’s case closed.”
“Stalker? I seem to recall you begging me to come see you. It was cute, actually. Made my day.”
“There was no begging involved,” Zishu mutters, looking anywhere but Kexing’s face. “I had to collect on a favor.”
“I’m glad you remember our last day together so fondly, A-Xu.”
A sticky wooden table in a tiny noodle shop tucked between an electronics store and a post office. Murmured conversation buzzing through the thick August humidity. Beads of condensation trickling down a half drunk glass of milk tea. Fingers running over a snag in a pair of sheer black tights. Some crumpled bills placed on the sticky table. Bright red nail polish. A frown on full lips.
“If there ever comes a time where you need me for anything - anything at all - I’ll be there.”
“I’m going somewhere you’ll never be.”
Zishu opens her eyes to find that Kexing has wormed her way into her personal space, making everything ten degrees hotter. Zishu tries to shuffle away but her back meets the wall, stopping her from going any further. It was only a matter of time before Kexing pressed her luck. In school, she’d never been shy about her interest in women - even when it turned her into a social pariah. Zishu had heard some of the dirtiest things from Kexing’s mouth, all in the name of getting (and keeping) her attention.
It was annoying then and it’s doubly annoying now.
Zishu gears up for a fight but Kexing doesn’t try to grope her or kiss her. She presses her face into the crook of Zishu’s neck, takes a wet breath, and starts sobbing.
Heaving, body shaking wails rip through the fragile calm that’s surrounded them since they arrived, shattering any illusions of normalcy. Zishu reacts without thought, wrapping her arms around Kexing as best she can. She staunchly ignores the fact that they’re both naked and her boobs are very much making themselves known.
Zishu’s trapped in a bizarre fever dream, one she can’t wake up from. She’s intimately familiar with death, it’s been a regular part of her life since she was old enough to remember, but there’s something different about it this time.
Wen Kexing is different.
Volatile and unpredictable but not nearly as heartless as she pretends. When Kexing is cut, the scars run deep.
Zishu turns her face up, letting the water wash away her tears before they can fall. The two of them stay wrapped up together for a long, long time.
(***)
They leave bright and early the next day, before the sun has shown its face.
Despite being cleaner, they look much rougher than they did a few hours earlier. Zishu has tried and failed to make herself look less like a poster child for domestic violence. The woman at the front desk stares at the sunglasses Zishu’s purchasing and her bruised up arms with clear concern. Before Zishu can deliver an explanation, Kexing leans over the counter to hand over her own pair of sunglasses (big and red, of course) and a can of Red Bull.
“We’re in a hurry. My father’s in the hospital. He’s very sick.”
Kexing’s parents have been dead since she was five.
She was adopted by a family friend after the car accident, a stern young woman who owned a popular restaurant (famous, in part, because it was run by an all female staff). Zishu often heard rumblings around school that Kexing had become a lesbian because she was raised by one, as if it was contagious.
Zishu yawns and scrubs a hand over her mouth, largely ignoring the no doubt entirely fabricated tale Kexing is spinning for the bewildered receptionist. She can use some caffeine herself. And a cigarette.
Neither of them slept. They sat in complete silence in the dark, each facing the opposite side of the room. Zishu had spent the rest of the night formulating a plan. She has one more favor to cash in from another old friend she hasn’t spoken to in ages.
Beiyuan promised her a drink whenever she made it to Beijing. So, that’s where they’ll go.
She and Kexing hop into the car and Zishu starts down the road while Kexing takes sips from her drink.
“You know, I’ve never seen your house,” Kexing muses, the comment seemingly coming from nowhere. “Your old house, where you grew up.”
“Yeah, that’s because we weren’t friends.”
“A-Xu!” Kexing gasps, scandalized. “We walked together after school all the time.”
Zishu snorts a laugh. “No, you would hang around the football field until I was done with practice and tail me off campus like a lost puppy.”
“You never complained,” Kexing says with a smile. “Just admit you enjoy my company. It’s only natural; I’m very charismatic.”
“f*ck you.” Zishu rummages blindly through the center console in search of her pack of cigarettes. “You’re a public nuisance.”
“I can be just as much of a nuisance in private, if you prefer.” Kexing fishes Zishu’s cigarettes out of her purse, like that’s exactly where they belong, before handing her a smoke and a lighter. “I’m serious, A-Xu, we should go back for old times sake. One last time. You have to show me your room. I bet it looks like a little classroom.”
“I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning,” Zishu says, pointedly lighting up while they wait at a stoplight, refusing to acknowledge how right Kexing is.
“I want KFC.”
Zishu shakes her head. “Okay, rich girl.”
Kexing tips her head back and laughs, the musical sound filling the car.
That’s what Zishu used to call her, before. Before her father died and her cousin stepped in to replace him, back when Zishu’s life was pretty good.
(***)
TEN YEARS AGO
The scent of freshly cut grass and the warm midafternoon breeze is a welcome relief after being trapped indoors for eight hours. Zishu stretches her calves, warming up with the rest of her teammates before they start running drills. Her left leg has been sore this week, the joint aching whenever she wakes up in the morning, which means real pain is on the horizon. Her doctors have urged her father to make her quit the football team and take up a “less intense” hobby, preferably one that isn’t outdoors, but she refuses to give up on what makes her happy.
Her body will have to cooperate.
“Your shadow’s here again.”
Beiyuan is leaning over conspiratorially, eyes sparkling with humor even as her expression remains neutral. For a junior, she’s too smart for her own good, a natural talent that Zishu has had a hand in making far worse. Sometimes, that bites her in the ass. Zishu follows her gaze towards the opposite side of the field where a far-too-familiar figure watches from behind the chain link fence. Wen Kexing is alone, as usual, her mere presence acting as a repellent to anyone with sense. Zishu isn’t sure how or why Kexing is so infatuated with her. The first day they met, Zishu gave her a fake name and it took two whole weeks before Kexing figured out the truth.
For some reason, Kexing wasn’t put off by it. If anything, it only seemed to make her more determined.
Zishu climbs to her feet, shaking off the twinge in her leg and readjusting her short ponytail. Beiyuan follows suit, grinning prettily as she waves to Kexing. Zishu swats at her shoulder with a scowl.
“Don’t encourage her.”
“She’ll keep showing up whether I wave or not. Might as well be nice.”
“You know she hates you, right? She threatened to kick your ass last time you talked to her.”
Beiyuan shrugs. “But she likes you and I’m your best friend so…”
“So nothing. You’re both annoying as hell.”
“Look at it this way Zishu, if you start dating Kexing you’ll be rich by proxy.”
Zishu scoffs as Beiyuan playfully pokes her side. “Isn’t that what you’re for?”
“Hm, good point. Forget I said anything.”
A whistle sounds and Zishu is saved from continuing the awful discussion. She casts one last wary glance in Kexing’s direction before she focuses on drills.
(***)
After practice ends, Zishu is challenged by her own hubris.
“You sure you’re okay?” Beiyuan matches Zishu’s slow pace, leisurely walking alongside her without complaint. “I can have my driver take you home.”
“No way. I’ll walk.”
Her messenger bag seems to weigh an extra twenty pounds, dragging her down with every step she takes. Her knees throb incessantly, the same way they do before the swelling starts. Zishu can wrap them once she gets home and hope for the best. As she awkwardly hobbles down the steps, she spots a lurking figure in her peripheral vision.
“Suit yourself, xiǎojiějie,” Beiyuan says with a little tilt of her head because she’s infuriating and far too willing to leave Zishu to the wolves for her own amusem*nt. “I’ll catch you later.”
The urge to sprint away is deterred only by Zishu’s unwillingness to end up in the ER. She pauses at the bottom of the steps, waiting on the sidewalk for her shadow to emerge.
Kexing is missing her usual bravado as she approaches, backpack slung over one shoulder and a nervous smile on her face. Zishu is sweaty and disheveled, nowhere near as pristine as Kexing with her perfectly pressed skirt and manicured nails.
Zishu likes her better when she’s a little messed up, fresh from a fight with mussed hair and chipped nails and a new ruddy red bruise over her cheek. Zishu would love to see Kexing sporting a split lip or a bloody nose, anything that makes her less cloyingly perfect. It’d be easier to make sense of Kexing if she wore her real face.
“You did great today, A-Xu,” Kexing says proudly, like she’s Zishu’s mom or something, which is objectively very weird. “You’ll make regionals for sure.”
“I know,” Zishu says before she continues her trek home. Kexing is right there, nearly walking on top of her because she has zero concept of personal space. “You don’t have to wait around for me.”
“I wasn’t.” Kexing is a natural at lying with a straight face which Zishu begrudgingly admires when she’s not on the receiving end. “I was studying and then I saw you outside.”
“Whatever.”
“What’s your top university? I know you’re trying for a scholarship.”
Zishu staggers to a stop at a crosswalk and Kexing reaches out to steady her, hands clasped around Zishu’s elbow. Zishu’s whole face grows hot, fire racing all along her scalp.
“Why? So you can follow me there too?”
Kexing doesn’t let go of her as they cross the street and Zishu is regrettably relieved to be able to lessen some of the pressure on her leg. Kexing hums softly, seemingly pretending to mull it over. Zishu has no doubt that Kexing will apply to all the same universities, regardless of her area of study, to keep up this charade. The last thing she needs is Kexing sniffing around her like a dog for four more years.
“Just curious. Say, are you hungry? The shop’s closed before dinner but Luo-ayi always has lunch-”
“I’m not gay.”
Zishu doesn’t mean to say it, she really doesn’t, but the words rush out of her in one jumbled breath. Kexing drops her hands like they’ve been scalded, eyes going wide for a charged moment and Zishu thinks she’s either going to cry or swing a punch but she does neither. She laughs, letting out a sound so jagged and harsh that a few people turn to look at them as they walk past.
“Right, people might get the wrong idea.”
“I mean, I don’t care that you’re-”
“A-Xu, it’s okay. I understand.” Kexing’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, her expression completely shuttered. “Are you okay to walk the rest of the way by yourself?”
“Yeah,” Zishu says, a different kind of heat burning through her insides. “I got it. Thanks.”
Kexing gives her a little bow before she continues on up the street. Zishu watches her until she’s just a dark smudge in the distance, something nasty and cold sitting heavy in her stomach, before she turns away.
(***)
PRESENT DAY
Zishu sips at her hot soya milk while she tears her youtiao into small pieces. Despite claiming hunger, she doesn’t have much of an appetite. She’s picked all the egg and pork from her congee and now all she’s left with is a bland bowl of porridge.
The KFC they’ve stopped at is crowded on a weekend morning, tables filled by small groups of grade schoolers and exhausted looking day laborers. The air has that thick smell of chicken grease, heavy and pungent. Zishu’s nose isn’t overly sensitive today but it still makes her nauseous.
“A-Xu, you have to try this.”
Kexing has opted for some sausage sandwich that Zishu has no interest in but she still takes a bite. It’s not half bad for fast food but definitely not worth the price. Kexing beams at her and Zishu can’t help laughing at her excitement.
“You’ve never been here before?”
“Luo-ayi never let me eat this stuff and then once A-Xiang came around-" Kexing trails off, mouth twisting like she’s tasted something sour. “It’s a good burger right?”
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
Zishu has her own share of secrets. She’s not expecting Kexing to hash out the details of the last decade of her life. It’s not her place to know. Kexing mumbles something about the bathroom before she gets up from the booth. Zishu lets her mind wander, thinking of all the ways the rest of the journey can go terribly wrong.
They're two hours into a twelve hour trip. Jin Wang’s body has almost certainly been discovered by now. Kexing was likely caught on every surveillance camera in the building and she probably left enough DNA evidence to make a detective sh*t their pants. There’s no way she won’t be caught.
Zishu chews on her bottom lip and considers her hand.
She can easily call the police. She avoids them on principle, typically, but this isn’t a typical situation.
Unlike Kexing, Zishu doesn’t have any direct involvement. As far as the police and the rest of the world knows, she and Wen Kexing haven’t spoken in years. It won’t be difficult to prove that Kexing acted alone, of her own volition, out of misplaced jealousy and anger. Zishu is simply a hostage.
“-death of 34 year old Shanghai Party Secretary Jin Wang, a mere two years into his tenure-“
Someone is watching the news on their phone, the sound tinny but audible. Zishu doesn’t turn around to see exactly who’s watching; that’s not important. What matters is that time is running out.
Kexing seems to appear out of thin air, pale with a hunted look in her eyes, which lets Zishu know she’s heard part of the broadcast. Kexing collects their trash and goes to throw it away while Zishu gets out the car keys in preparation for a quick getaway.
They manage not to draw any extra attention despite Kexing’s obvious nerves and get back on the road without incident.
Neither of them say a word.
(***)
Han Ying calls the second night.
Zishu contemplates ignoring him but Han Ying is remarkably persistent. She doesn’t doubt that he’d somehow find a way to track her down and she can’t have that. Zishu lights a cigarette and tries to get comfortable on the stiff hotel sofa before she answers. She barely gets a “wéi” out before Han Ying starts talking.
“What happened?”
“I’m on vacation with an old friend.”
“They found Jin Wang in bed. Someone slit his throat and I know it wasn’t you.”
Kexing really has a flair for the dramatic. “I know.”
“Pengju’s saying he’s in charge now but it’s not-”
“Ying’er, I’m not coming back.”
There’s a lengthy pause on the other end, long enough that Zishu wonders if the connection dropped.
“This friend, are you safe with them?”
“Safe enough.” Zishu glances over to the bed. Kexing is fast asleep and breathing heavily, finally having dropped off after getting sufficiently plastered. “They won’t let anything happen to me. I trust them.”
“Good. That’s good. I’m…glad you’re okay.”
Han Ying sounds small, like he’s still that same street-worn teenager Zishu looked out for and eventually brought under her wing. “Things are going to get worse. Take care of yourself, Ying’er.”
“...You too.”
The line goes dead and Zishu drops her cigarette in a half-empty cup of water, watching the embers die out in a matter of seconds. The hollow silence makes her skin crawl. She hefts herself up, knees creaking in protest of her terrible habits. She hasn’t been keeping up with her usual routine - she can’t remember the last time she had her prescriptions filled - and the stiffness in her legs will likely follow her into the morning.
Zishu takes her time undressing, moving at the slow pace her aching muscles allow, before crawling into bed next to Kexing. She tucks herself against Kexing’s side, relaxing into the curve of her body. Kexing is soft and pliant in sleep, eyes fluttering beneath closed lids. Zishu reaches out to brush a thumb against Kexing’s lips before bringing it to her own mouth.
Loneliness has been such a constant in Zishu’s life that having another person tossed into her orbit has forced her off axis. Zishu often finds that untangling the web of emotions Kexing fuels in her is a fruitless process. The words she has are too paltry, too small to encompass the massive, feverish pit that’s overtaken her insides.
Zishu wants to see the kind of creature Kexing becomes in the dark when the world isn’t watching, to feel what her hands do when they’re not forced into stillness.
Desire pulses in her throat, blood roaring through her body in a hot rush. Zishu wants Kexing and has wanted her for a long time. Not as long as Kexing’s wanted her but long enough.
Long enough.
Zishu rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling, overheated and uncomfortably tense, until sleep finds her.
(***)
“Luo-ayi always said you’d get me into trouble.”
Kexing drives as if she’s afraid of the car, clutching the wheel like a life preserver. Zishu got a good look at her license so she knows it isn’t fake but that piece of plastic won’t help when Kexing puts them in a ditch.
“You are trouble.”
Zishu’s particularly prickly today, sore in all the wrong ways and terribly aware of every inch of her body. She lights a cigarette - her last one because of f*cking course it is - and lets the smoke fill her lungs.
“She told me that you’d break my heart, that I was wasting my time chasing after a straight girl when I should be worried about school.” Kexing is the stillness that precedes a storm, quietly electric. “Luo-ayi’s had a hard life though. Her fiance kicked her out one day and left her with nothing. Next thing she knew, he was married to some other woman. It’s really f*cked up.”
“Kexing, you’re doing a terrible job of getting in my pants. I’m starting to think you’re still a virgin.”
Kexing narrows her eyes, cat-like, before reaching over to grasp Zishu’s thigh. Her long fingers splay out wide across Zishu’s leg, their warmth seeping down into Zishu’s bones. She tucks her thumb into the pocket of Zishu’s cargo pants and smiles.
Kexing has perfected the art of teasing - a touch here, the suggestion of more - before backing off without truly testing Zishu’s bluff. The two of them undress one another inside their heads when they’re tangled together on hotel beds, thinking of f*cking while their mouths touch the same beer can.
They are always watching each other, thinking about sex but not having it.
“I’ll have you know I’ve had many girlfriends. They’ll tell you, you won’t be disappointed.”
“Funny, you’re not dating anyone now.”
“Not true, I go on lots of dates. I just had a great hookup last week.”
Zishu is shocked by the heat that floods through her at the thought of Kexing messing around with another woman. She has no reason to be upset but jealousy doesn’t care about logic or reason. Kexing cottons on to her mood, because she’s annoyingly observant, and then her hand is between Zishu’s legs.
It’s an over-the-clothes touch, the type of thing Zishu would’ve found scandalous when she was a preteen. It’s nothing special, far and away from erotic.
It shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
Zishu has never been more aware of the exact weight of her clothes before, the way fabric shifts against her skin. If Kexing applied a bit more pressure, Zishu might be able to stave off the tightness in her gut.
“We’re here,” Kexing says, as if this is nothing more than a fun little stroll. “Look, the park’s still open.”
“Great, you can go terrorize the children.”
“I’d rather terrorize you.” Kexing grinds the heel of her hand against Zishu’s crotch and it stings, the friction from rough cloth rubbing in all the worst ways.
Zishu loves it.
“You talk too much.” Zishu reaches out to switch on the radio, filling the car with the upbeat sound of bubblegum pop. She lets her legs fall open, turning to look out the window, and Kexing pulls away.
Zishu masks her disappointment with indifference.
Kexing was right; nothing’s changed.
Zishu is struck by a strange sense of deja vu that only intensifies as Kexing guides the car down familiar streets.
A part of Zishu still lives here, abandoned in her dogged pursuit of greater freedom. She’s been plagued by the ghost of her teenage self for far too long; it’s time to put her to rest.
“Take a left here,” she says, providing a destination to stop Kexing’s aimless wandering. “It’s past the train tracks.”
Zishu watches as buildings give way to lush greenery and dense pockets of trees. Tension eases from her shoulders and she begins to relax, mind not on what awaits her at the end of the road but the open air and the breeze.
In the city, Zishu never slowed down to take notice of herself. It was easier to direct her focus elsewhere, forget about tiredness, pain and discomfort. There was always more important work to be done and Zishu was happy to exist outside of her body, on the edge of reality.
Zishu feels alive for the first time in a long time.
“There.” Zishu inclines her head toward the second to last house on the street.
It’s a single story house, the exterior still fashioned in the traditional style. It’s been in Zishu’s family for generations, the birthplace of an entire bloodline. The yard is well-maintained and, to the passing observer, it wouldn’t seem abandoned.
Zishu’s stomach swoops pitifully as she exits the car, her nerves going haywire as she approaches the front door. Kexing is right behind her, mercifully silent for once.
When Zishu steps into the entryway, she half expects to find her father tinkering in the living room. There is nothing to greet her but stale air and dust.
“Happy now?” Zishu asks, turning to look over her shoulder.
Kexing is practically vibrating with excitement, eyes bright and clear. She brushes by Zishu on her way further into the house, unbothered by the clutter and cobwebs, to crouch by a bookshelf in the corner of the living room where Zishu’s football trophies are proudly displayed.
Something prickly squirms in Zishu’s chest, making her feel a little lost and breathless. She leaves Kexing to poke around, leaving her mark among the refuse of Zishu’s past, while she meanders into the kitchen.
The entire house is frozen in time, preserved thanks to the “generosity” of her cousin, and it bears all the marks of the family that once lived there. Zishu’s neat calligraphy is hung up in the living room alongside paintings from her late mother. There’s a small shrine for her on the mantle that’s gone untouched for years, no offerings to be found. Zishu feels a little guilty about that, even if her memories of her mother are hazy.
There are notches carved into the kitchen door frame that mark the growth of Zishu and her older brother and sister. She idly traces over the lines, digging her nail into the grooves, trying to shake off the maudlin mood she’s in. There’s nothing for her to be upset about; she’s never been close to her family.
It is what it is.
“Why’d you quit?” Kexing asks, standing in the kitchen entryway holding one of Zishu’s old medals. “You could’ve gone national.”
“I needed something stable,” Zishu says, as if that’s ever been a possibility. “And my doctors said it was a bad idea.”
“When have you ever cared about what the doctors tell you?”
She’s right; Zishu has never followed the advice of physicians. She pushes herself too much and drinks too heavily and eats sh*tty food - when she eats at all. Her PT told her once that it seemed like she’d given up and Zishu had to fight the urge to laugh in his face.
“Do you talk to your patients like this? I’m surprised you haven’t been fired yet.”
Zishu takes the medal from Kexing and tosses it on the counter. It thuds hollowly because it’s cheap, fake plastic - something Zishu won back in grade school that doesn’t mean anything now but was everything then. Zishu wonders if that’s all life really is: a series of regrets and failures and missed opportunities.
Kexing shrugs, nonchalant, “My patients love me. I’m top of my field.”
Zishu doesn’t doubt that; Kexing was one of the top students in their class, making up for her terrible behavior with academic prowess. It’s not surprising that she’s managed to secure herself a high-paying salary and countless accolades, professional and personal alike. Kexing is an excellent shapeshifter, able to fit herself into any space that presents itself. Zishu wonders what Kexing’s colleagues think about her now that she’s let the mask slip.
Maybe they’re ruminating on all their past interactions, looking for red flags that may or may not exist. Kexing’s squeaky clean record will be examined with a fine toothed comb, all her juvenile misdeeds suddenly cast in a new light.
Zishu really needs a smoke.
“Hm. You’d be better as a dentist.”
“A-Xu, are you implying that I’m a sad*st? I’ll have you know-”
A loud knock on the door cuts Kexing off mid-sentence. She goes rigid all over, like a cornered wolf, before she whips around to look at Zishu.
“You didn’t mention any nosy neighbors.”
“There aren’t any. I called the cops.”
A slow smile curls Kexing’s lips. “And you call me a monster. I know you’re itching to get rid of me but you don’t have to be so mean.”
Zishu’s face remains carefully neutral as another knock echoes through the door, much louder than the first. Kexing’s smile withers into nothingness in an instant and a cold frost darkens her eyes. There’s violence threaded through every inch of her, bristling below the surface. Zishu’s hackles go up, her instincts kicking off at the first hint of a threat. She moves fast but not quite quick enough to avoid Kexing’s grasp. Kexing rushes her and sends them both sprawling to the floor. The back of Zishu’s head smacks into the wall with enough force to have her seeing double.
Kexing looms over top of her, beautiful even in her terrifyingly thunderous rage. Zishu touches the back of her throbbing skull and her fingers come away red. She has little chance to digest that before Kexing’s hands are around her neck.
Her fingers fit perfectly around Zishu’s throat, pressed right against her windpipe. Zishu studies Kexing’s flushed face and vicious eyes with no reservations. Serenity washes over her like a deep ocean as her pulse beats rabbit quick beneath Kexing’s fingertips.
“You didn’t have to get my hopes up,” Kexing seethes, grip tightening just enough to make it difficult to swallow. “I was over all of it. I was over you but you had to pop up again, you selfish asshole!”
“Kill me then.”
That throws Kexing off balance. Her hands slip down to rest at Zishu’s clavicle as her breathing slowly steadies. Zishu doesn’t move even after Kexing stands up and pulls herself together. Fraught silence fills the space left behind as Kexing goes to open the front door.
Zishu closes her eyes and listens as the delivery driver tells Kexing that the house was hard to find and he’s very sorry for the wait. Kexing murmurs something in response and then the door shuts once more. Kexing’s footsteps are light and quick as she hurries back into the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry, A-Xu.”
Zishu looks up to see Kexing standing there, teary eyed with her arms wrapped around a large bag of takeout.
“Don’t be, it was a bad idea.” Zishu staggers to her feet and Kexing nearly drops the food in her rush to examine Zishu’s head, “I wanted to know if you were serious.”
Zishu doesn’t add “about me” but Kexing simply looks at her and says, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Kexing steers her into the living room and helps her sit on the couch. Zishu watches quietly as Kexing arranges steaming dishes of rice and stir-fried vegetables on the coffee table.
“Here, eat.”
Zishu takes every bite Kexing offers.
(***)
TEN YEARS AGO
A shadow passes over the sun, rendering the book in Zishu’s hands unreadable.
“Before you ask, yes I’m leaving,” Zishu says with a sigh before shoving the book back into her bag. “No, there’s nothing you can do about it. I’d say see you around but that’s not gonna happen.”
Zishu gets up from the bench and slings her bag over her shoulder without a glance in Kexing’s direction. Unfortunately, Kexing is not the kind of person who pays attention to simple things like body language or words so she plants herself directly in Zishu’s path.
Kexing looks like she’s just been told her dog died, eyes huge and wet with tears. It’s utterly pathetic and Zishu’s chest tightens up on reflex, some part of her still falling for Kexing’s act.
“I’m not here to change your mind. I want to take you to lunch.”
“Kexing-”
I know, you don’t like girls and you don’t like me. You’re going to be leaving tomorrow anyway; what does it matter?”
Zishu can easily keep walking, go home to pack up the rest of her things and wait for the day to end. She can find another quiet place to finish reading her book, away from annoying people like Wen Kexing.
Or she can have lunch.
“You’re paying.”
Kexing leads her to a small noodle shop, not the restaurant that Zishu expected. The sizzling of food mixed with scattered conversation is pleasant, adding to the cozy atmosphere. Zishu makes the mistake of taking a closer look at the kitchen which puts her directly in Luo Fumeng’s line of sight.
She’s coldly beautiful, elegant in her movements but severe in her manner. Even with sweat on her brow and a stained apron, she manages to make Zishu feel like she’s ten seconds away from being stabbed by the knife in Fumeng’s hand. Fumeng watches her closely and her eyes remind Zishu of Kexing’s: dark and calculating, impossible to look away from.
“Luo-ayi, this is Zhou Zishu,” Kexing says, smiling all the while like she can’t feel the tension in the air. “It’s her last day in town.”
Zishu could kill Kexing. Instead, she gives Fumeng her attention, able to move seamlessly under pressure.
“It’s very nice to meet you, ayi. I’ve heard great things about your food.”
Fumeng doesn’t seem completely satisfied but she still smiles and says, “Thank you. Since it’s your last day here, I’ll make you something special.”
They end up at a table in the corner that's relatively hidden and Zishu is served the best bowl of beef noodles she’s ever had. Most of the time is a blur, with Kexing talking and Zishu preoccupied by thoughts of what the future holds.
After they finish their meal and Kexing ridiculously says she’ll be there for Zishu, no matter what, they head outside through a back door and go their separate ways.
At least, that’s what should’ve happened.
Before Zishu can get a word out, Kexing kisses her. It’s inelegant and clumsy, a bit of a disaster, but Zishu finds herself responding eagerly.
Zishu lets herself be backed against a brick wall and welcomes the heat of Kexing’s tongue. Kexing’s lips taste like chili oil and the lingering spice only spurs Zishu on, making her want to devour Kexing whole. Kexing has a strong hold on Zishu’s waist, fingers burning hot against the strip of skin above Zishu’s waistband.
Zishu’s never kissed a girl before. She wishes she’d done it more.
Kexing pulls away, to Zishu’s dismay, and puts some distance between them. Zishu is struck by the sudden realization that this will be the last time she sees Kexing, likely forever. It makes her want to do something stupid, like tell Kexing that she likes her.
“I really mean it,” Kexing says, a rueful smile on her face. “Anything at all. I’ll be there. Bye, A-Xu.”
Zishu can only give a weak wave as Kexing slips back inside, out of Zishu’s life. She takes several deep breaths before she’s steady enough to move. Zishu walks home in a daze, feeling everything and nothing all at once.
As soon as she gets home, she heads into her room, lies on the floor and stares listlessly at the ceiling.
The phantom of Kexing’s kiss follows Zishu into her daydreams.
(***)
PRESENT DAY
“I was going to kill myself.”
It’s late and Zishu is teetering on the edge of sleep, boneless and bleary. Kexing’s fingers stop their soothing journey through Zishu’s hair, stilling almost instantly. Zishu keeps her head in Kexing’s lap and her eyes closed, breathing slowly through the rising panic.
She shouldn’t be talking about this.
She needs to say it or she’ll lose her mind.
“Not right away,” she clarifies, as if that makes any difference. “I wanted to travel first and then, when I was ready, I was going to…well, you know.”
“…And now?” Kexing asks, voice pitched low and soft.
“I dunno. I haven’t decided.”
“If you die, I’ll be right behind you.” Kexing continues carding through Zishu’s hair, nails dragging pleasantly across her scalp. “It’d be sort of poetic, wouldn’t it?”
“It’d be f*cking stupid is what it’d be. I’m not going out as a cliche.”
Kexing chuckles. “You’re right. You should let me sleep with you first. I’d hate to die with regrets.”
“Shut up, you lunatic.”
“A-Xu, you’d let me die like this? Have a heart.”
“All you think about is sex.”
“You can’t blame me for that. I wouldn’t have to fantasize if I had the real thing.”
Zishu can’t believe this is what she has to deal with. She snuggles in closer, burrowing her nose in Kexing’s shirt, breathing in the scent of her skin. There is a tentative sort of peace here in the dark, dusty tomb of her childhood home. It’s almost as if time is standing still, waiting for them to catch their breath. Zishu is far from an optimist but it’s nice to let herself rest, even if it’s only for a little while.
(***)
They stir late the next afternoon, roused by the patter of rain.
Zishu lies on the couch for a while, comfortably wrapped in Kexing’s warm embrace and unwilling to disentangle herself. She stares at the gray light spilling across the floor and considers what it’d be like to stay.
She can start selling produce, cabbage and cucumber, like her father used to. Farming wouldn’t be a bad way to spend her remaining time.
Kexing mumbles something incoherent into Zishu and twists around to face her. Kexing is sleep-tousled, blinking back at Zishu with half-lidded eyes. Zishu reaches out to trace one of Kexing’s neatly arched brows and is rewarded with a full-body tremor. Kexing preens like a satisfied cat, stretching out and sighing as Zishu maps out the contours of her face.
“Let’s go on a date,” Kexing says, peering up at Zishu with a mischievous smile. “I’m sure there’s some nice clothes hiding around here that we can wear.”
“They’re probably moth-eaten by now.”
“Not everything. Come on, A-Xu. Humor me.”
“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing this whole time?”
Zishu is agreeable today, maybe even a little energetic. They bathe together because it’s convenient and easy and Zishu doesn’t care when Kexing makes lewd comments about how nice her tit* are or how much she wants to get her fingers inside her and, and, and.
Zishu tunes her out and keeps scrubbing her arms.
Kexing dutifully inspects the back of Zishu’s head as she washes her hair, careful not to disturb the fresh cut. Zishu kept prodding at it last night, making sure it hadn’t disappeared into the ether.
Zishu rifles through her dad’s closet, picking through the sparse selection until she finds his favorite leather jacket. It’s worn in, soft to the touch and clearly well maintained. Zishu pulls it on over a plain white shirt and the same pair of pants she’s been wearing for the past several days.
Kexing emerges from the bathroom in a green, floral embroidered cheongsam that Zishu has only ever seen in an old photo of her mom from way before Zishu was even thought of. Zishu is caught off guard and she stands there, motionless, for long enough that Kexing can snuggle up behind her.
“What do you think?”
“Let’s go.”
Kexing laces their fingers together as soon as they’re out the door. Zishu is too preoccupied by the patrolman shining a flashlight into the driver’s side window of her car to put a stop to it. Kexing follows her gaze and freezes like she’s seen a ghost. Zishu pulls her along, doing her best to hurry without drawing unnecessary attention, but Kexing isn’t exactly easy to miss.
The officer spots them as they’re rounding a corner and the minute he shouts, “Hey!” Zishu takes off running.
Kexing is squeezing the life out of Zishu’s poor fingers but she’s smart enough to keep moving.
This is bad but not as bad as it could be. Zishu can handle a small country cop.
She can hear him not far behind, calling for backup on his radio. That won’t do at all. Zishu scans the street for a faster escape route or possible distraction and spots a motorcycle idling by the curb, the driver nowhere in sight.
Stealing it is a split second decision.
Zishu hops on the bike and Kexing scrambles on behind her, holding her waist as tightly as she’d held her hand. Zishu spies the insulated cooler bag attached to the front of the bike and says a silent apology to the delivery driver before she takes off. Kexing yelps but Zishu doesn’t ease up on the throttle, speeding down the street as fast as she can without losing control.
“Holy sh*t,” Kexing yells over the wind, laughter in her voice. “He recognized us. We’re wanted fugitives, A-Xu, and you’ve just added larceny to our charges.”
“I think that’s the least of our problems. I lost my damn car.”
Kexing rests her chin on Zishu’s shoulder and says, “I’ll buy you a new one. Where are we going?”
“I don’t know. Away from here.”
Zishu is already starting to run through their options. Chances are they’re already being tailed by at least one law enforcement agency. They have to keep moving.
All they have to do is get to Beiyuan’s. Then they can get fake documents, get on a plane, and go. Zishu hasn’t thought about where they’ll end up or what they’ll do when they get there. That’s all secondary.
“Luo-ayi has a guest house. She uses it for hosting big parties sometimes,” Kexing offers. “It’s not too far away and it’s pretty isolated. It can buy us some time to figure things out.”
Zishu doesn’t love the idea of holing up somewhere, an ambush would be incredibly easy, but she can’t afford to be picky. Once she gets her head back on straight, she’ll be able to form a more concrete plan.
“I hope you’re not as sh*t at directions as you are at driving.”
(***)
Kexing severely understated how massive Luo Fumeng’s guest house is.
It’s a contemporary style cabin surrounded by dense forest on one side and a large lake on the other. The front is dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows that allow for plenty of natural light and an unobstructed view of all the valuable furniture there is to steal.
Zishu glances up at the camera nestled above the front porch and wonders whether or not this recording will be handed over to the cops - or worse, the media.
“This will only take a minute,” Kexing says as she bends two hair pins into useful tools for lock picking. Zishu doesn’t care to ask why she doesn’t have a key, mentally adding breaking and entering to their growing list of crimes. “I haven’t been here in awhile.”
“Hurry up before security gets here.”
“A-Xu, relax. The guards will recognize me.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.”
Kexing sticks her tongue out at Zishu before focusing on the task at hand. She really does have a surgeon’s hand, nimble and sharp when she’s working on a task. Zishu leans against one of the front porch posts and admires the graceful turn of Kexing’s wrists.
True to her word, Kexing gets the door open in a handful of seconds. She waves her arm with a flourish and Zishu rolls her eyes as she walks inside. The interior is massive: high-ceilings, plenty of open floor space, expensive looking artwork lining the walls.
“Where’s she keep the alcohol?” Zishu asks, unashamed.
Kexing gestures towards the hall and Zishu spies the large cabinet stocked with everything from wine to vodka to bourbon. It’s a welcome sight after the day she’s had. Kexing picks up an expensive looking bottle and holds it up for Zishu’s appraisal.
“How about some Woodford Reserve?”
Zishu walks over and picks up a glass. “Pour me a drink.”
(***)
Zishu is pleasantly warm, blanketed by a heaviness that only liquor can provide. She’s splayed out on an oversized guest bed, too comfortable to move. Kexing is fiddling with a record player with one hand and haphazardly holding a glass in the other, flushed and unsteady on her feet.
“You like Teresa Teng don’t you? Hm, no, you look like a Metallica fan.”
“I don’t want any music.” Zishu lazily pats the bed. “Come over here.”
Kexing knocks back the rest of her drink, places the cup on the nightstand, and flops down next to Zishu. Kexing gets cuddly when she’s tipsy and she wastes no time wriggling into Zishu’s space, slipping her hands under her shirt to rest against bare shoulder blades. Zishu sighs as Kexing traces aimless patterns across her skin, fingers trailing down the notches of her spine.
“I’m really happy, A-Xu,” Kexing whispers. “Really, really happy.”
Zishu is in good spirits too, so good that she has to do something about it. She snakes a hand through Kexing’s silky hair and kisses her hard. It’s too easy to sink into the heat of Kexing’s lips. Zishu explores the cavern of Kexing’s mouth, letting her tongue delve deep. Kexing moans and crushes their bodies together, frantic and feverish.
Zishu wants to be f*cked.
Kexing shoves a thigh between Zishu’s legs to give her something to grind against and that’s good but not nearly enough. Zishu whines when Kexing rakes her nails down her back, the sharp flash of pain intensifying her need. Kexing breaks the kiss to put her mouth to Zishu’s ear.
“A-Xu, let me touch you.”
It’s an absurd thing to say when they’re already all over each other but Zishu is too keyed up to do anything but fumble her clothes off. Kexing follows suit, tossing her dress to the floor with reckless abandon. Zishu is desperate and wanting and sickeningly in love. Kexing rolls her onto her back and pins her down, pressing her wrists into the mattress as she sinks her teeth into Zishu’s neck.
The noise Zishu makes is loud and breathy, something she’d be horribly embarrassed by if she wasn’t so turned on. Kexing bites marks all over her throat before moving lower, getting her lips around a pert nipple. Zishu can’t help but twist in Kexing’s grip, chasing the sensation as much as it overwhelms her. Kexing laughs softly, peering up at Zishu with so much naked admiration that Zishu’s cheeks burn.
“Sensitive?”
Zishu opens her mouth to say “no” but it gets caught in her throat when Kexing drags her tongue down Zishu’s chest. Zishu squeezes her legs together, trying desperately to relieve the pulsing pressure. Kexing releases Zishu’s arms so she can push her legs apart again and slip two fingers between her folds. It’s an exploratory type of thing, examining more than pleasuring, but that only gets heat pooling in Zishu’s belly faster.
“I wish I’d brought my toys,” Kexing muses, far too introspective for a woman that’s paying so much attention to Zishu’s reactions. “You’d look so good with something big inside you. Next time.”
“Stop f*cking around.”
“Isn’t that what you want?” Kexing shoves her fingers inside Zishu without hesitation and Zishu cries out, arching into the touch.
Kexing f*cks her slowly, curling her fingers inside Zishu’s c*nt while teasing her cl*t with her other hand. Zishu has her hands clasped over her stomach, like she can press down hard enough to feel Kexing moving. Her muscles tighten up every time Kexing pushes deeper, clenching around her fingers, making Zishu groan.
“You’re perfect,” Kexing says, eyes never straying far from her work. “Can you take more? I think you can.”
Zishu moves with Kexing, awash with shivery pleasure. When Kexing fits a third finger inside her, stretching her further, Zishu’s eyes start to water. There’s the slightest ache as she adjusts to the added pressure, relaxing as Kexing slowly slides her fingers in and out. Zishu feels good, body slowly creeping towards its peak.
She is drifting in a deep pool of pleasure - awash in sensation, rooted solidly inside her own skin - when the sudden loss of Kexing’s hand snaps her back. She doesn’t get the chance to complain because Kexing lifts her legs to fold her nearly in half and then her mouth is on Zishu: slick, hot and indulgent.
Kexing is far too skilled and Zishu is wholly unprepared.
Zishu can only shout and claw at the blankets as Kexing commits herself to breaking Zishu apart as thoroughly and completely as possible. It’s almost too much after denying herself any sort of relief. Zishu has gotten so familiar with pain that she’s shocked her body is capable of experiencing more.
The tears surprise her as much as the org*sm that rips through her. All she can do is let it happen.
Zishu has no clue how long it lasts but, when her eyes finally regain their focus, Kexing is lying beside her, staring. Zishu can’t imagine what she looks like right now and she’s not too worried about finding out. Her mind is on more important things.
“A-Xu, we could’ve been doing this ages ago. Don’t you feel ridiculous for playing hard to get?”
“I feel ridiculous whenever I’m around you.”
It comes out softer than Zishu thought it would, incredibly close to the vulnerable bits of herself she keeps guarded. Kexing opens her mouth to say something and Zishu pulls her into another kiss. The taste of herself lingers on Kexing’s tongue, heady and perfect. Kexing goes down easy when Zishu climbs over her, loose-limbed and yielding. A flush has crept down her neck and bloomed across her chest and Zishu trails it with her fingertips.
Zishu may not be as practiced as Kexing but that doesn’t stop her from trying. Kexing’s breasts are smaller than her own and they fit nicely in Zishu’s hand. Kexing is already pleading, saying a bunch of nonsense about how she’s going to die. Even in bed, she can’t stop being dramatic. Zishu takes her time marking Kexing’s body with her teeth, wanting her to carry the full weight of Zishu’s affection for days to come.
Kexing is a quivering mess by the time Zishu spreads her open. The silken heat of her is enticing and Zishu is happy to touch, to taste. Kexing clenches tight around Zishu’s fingers and Zishu gets the distinct impression that she’s not used to this. The startling realization that Kexing is allowing her to do this, trusts her enough, hits her like a gut punch.
“A-Xu,” Kexing whines, near tears, “I’m dying.”
Zishu decides she can be a little lenient. She licks into Kexing with determined fervor, unwilling to be shown up. Kexing’s hands fly to Zishu’s head, tangling in her hair as she tries to keep herself steady. Dull pain prickles along her scalp and Zishu increases her efforts, eager to feel Kexing fall apart.
Kexing makes a terrible noise as her thighs tighten around Zishu and her back arches off the bed. Zishu works her fingers back inside Kexing to feel the way her muscles tense and flutter. She doesn’t stop until Kexing is thrashing and wailing curses at her, nearly tearing her hair out.
Zishu pries Kexing’s hands away so she can shimmy back up the bed and nestle against her. Kexing’s hair is splayed out across her pillow like tendrils of ice and Zishu can’t help but stare.
Kexing looks at her with half-lidded eyes and a little smile. “Shower?”
“Yeah,” Zishu says, tucking her head under Kexing’s chin, “In a bit.”
In no time at all, Zishu drifts off.
(***)
Several hours later, Zishu’s rumbling belly wakes her.
She carefully slips out of Kexing’s arms and trudges into the kitchen to poke around the cabinets in search of sustenance. There’s not much available, but Zishu isn’t picky. She pulls out a half-eaten box of rice crackers and sits down on the counter, munching on them by the handful, blissfully enjoying her freedom until the front door swings open.
Zishu is caught by surprise and freezes in shock as Luo Fumeng and a teenage girl in an oversized purple hoodie come strolling in. For once, Zishu wishes she’d bothered to put on pants.
Fumeng still looks the same, save for a lot more gray hair. There’s no masking the rage in her eyes as she looks Zishu up and down. The girl stands a little ways back, eyes wide as she idly twists the end of her braid around her finger.
There’s a lingering moment of awkward silence before the girl yawns and says, “You’re the lady my jiejie’s going to prison for? Figures.”
“A-Xiang,” Fumeng says tightly before turning her sharp gaze to Zishu. “I should’ve known you’d be involved in this somehow.”
“She didn’t do anything.” Kexing trails into the room, thankfully more put together than Zishu is at the moment. “What are you both doing here?”
Fumeng turns her ire on Kexing. “Did you think we wouldn’t find out? Your face is all over the news!”
Kexing goes a little pale but she covers it with a laugh. “I always told you I’d be famous someday. You never believed me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” A-Xiang says with a pout. “You just up and left.”
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Kexing says in non-answer, reaching out to twist A-Xiang’s ear. “What I do is none of your business.”
The easy affection makes Zishu feel guiltier. She hops down from the counter to address Fumeng properly…as properly as she can, anyway.
“I’m sorry. I know-”
“A-Xu, you don’t need to explain yourself.”
Fumeng looks between the two of them, eyes narrowed. “Someone better. This is out of control. A-Xing, this needs to stop.”
Cold dread settles in Zishu’s chest. “What are you saying?”
“This doesn’t concern you. Kexing, you have to turn yourself in. You can’t run forever.”
“Are you serious?!” Kexing blurts out, all of her usual composure falling away. “You’re supposed to have my back!”
“I do.” Fumeng reaches out to cup Kexing’s face, sorrow painted on her brow. “I love you so much and that’s why I want you to, please, think about what you’re doing.”
“They’re going to lock me away.”
“I can get you a good lawyer. If you do the right thing, they can negotiate for a lighter sentence.”
Zishu is hovering in the midst of a scene she’s not supposed to witness, shoved in the middle of a reunion she’s not a part of. A-Xiang is watching her warily, like she expects Zishu to start throwing a fit. It’s all surreal and terrifying. Zishu wants to be anywhere else.
“…Fine,” Kexing says, eyes downcast and teary. “I’ll go.”
“What? No.” Zishu grabs a hold of her hand. “You can’t.”
“You’re the one who got her into this mess.”
Zishu can’t even deny it, which hurts worse. “Okay then I’m going too.”
Fumeng opens her mouth as if to refuse but then she closes it again, giving Zishu a curt nod. Kexing’s sister immediately steps in to give Kexing a crushing hug and that’s when Kexing starts crying.
“I had to walk home because of you,” A-Xiang says, words muffled by Kexing’s shirt. “You were supposed to pick me up but I had to leave with Weining.”
“That idiot’s still hanging around?”
“You’re the stupid one! Stupider than him!”
Kexing squeezes her tight, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” into the crown of her head. Zishu turns away, heading back towards the room to gather her things. She woodenly pulls on her pants and starts shoving random odds and ends into her bag on autopilot. Her head is full of static. Her jaw hurts.
She doesn’t hear Kexing approach but she senses her presence. Zishu keeps reshuffling her stuff around, trying to make it fit so she can close the f*cking zipper and get shuttled off to some police station and await her suffering. Kexing kneels down behind her and circles her arms around her waist, breath ghosting across the nape of Zishu’s neck.
“Say the word,” she murmurs, lips tickling Zishu’s skin, “and we’ll go.”
Zishu heaves out a broken little sigh, fingers finally working enough to zip her bag shut. She leans into Kexing’s chest, taking a second to shake off the nerves.
“How?”
Kexing points towards the window. “There.”
Zishu isn’t interested in getting scraped off the pavement. Kexing pinches her side like she knows exactly what Zishu’s thinking. “It’s not that far. I’ve done it before.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know but we’ll figure it out. That’s what we do.”
Zishu loves her. Admitting it doesn’t cut as deep anymore.
Zishu helps Kexing gather up her own stuff and then they’re climbing up onto the windowsill, looking down at the backyard. Crouched in the open window, Zishu has a better idea of the distance. It’s not far, maybe a little under a ten foot drop, but Zishu isn’t sure whether or not her joints can withstand the impact. She weighs her options: a broken ankle or several years in prison.
“Ready?” Kexing asks, a beat of trepidation in her voice.
“On three.”
Zishu is weightless for a few heart-stopping seconds and then her palms are scraping the ground, scratched up by cobblestone. The landing jolts through her whole body, shaking up her bones. She’s barely gathered herself when Kexing pulls her across the backyard, rushing for the road. They round the side of the house and run into A-Xiang. She’s leaning against the side of Fumeng’s van, looking right at them.
Zishu is ready to bolt but A-Xiang walks up and puts a set of car keys in her hand with a little shrug.
“I’ve never seen her like this before.” A-Xiang jabs Zishu in the chest. “Don’t f*ck this up or I’ll kill you next.”
“A-Xiang, where did you get such a nasty mouth?” Kexing says with a shake of her head. “I don’t know what that dumb boy sees in you.”
“Hurry up and go. Luo-ayi’s looking for her keys.”
Kexing plants a kiss on A-Xiang’s cheek, much to her annoyance, then they climb into the van. Zishu adjusts the seat and her rear view mirror before rolling down the window to address A-Xiang.
“Thank you.”
“Whatever! Go!”
Zishu starts down the road just as Fumeng comes racing out the front door. Kexing leans out the window to wave and her giddy laughter provides the perfect music.
The sun sinks lower on the horizon, bathing the sky in pink, and Zishu feels the world unfolding before her.
(***)
Zishu knows something’s wrong when Kexing insists that they stop for gas.
They’re not even to the next town and the van still has half a tank.
“We don’t need gas.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Kexing laughs in that strange, awkward way she often does when she’s bullsh*tting. “Plus, I’m hungry. I need a snack for the road.”
Despite the nagging sense of unease prickling at Zishu’s mind, she pulls into the gas station. Kexing is hopping out of the car as soon as Zishu parks, rushing off without so much as asking if Zishu wants anything.
It’s weird.
Incredibly weird.
Zishu tries to talk herself down as she gets out to fill up the tank. The parking lot is empty and the road is quiet. Zishu reaches for the gas nozzle and that’s when the sirens start blaring.
She whips around in time to watch four cop cars barreling into the parking lot. One blocks her in while the other three rush to the front of the convenience store. Zishu’s ears are ringing, her vision blurred by flashes of red and blue. There’s a detective getting out of the car and his mouth is moving but Zishu can’t register the words.
He takes a hold of her elbow and tries to steer her towards his vehicle but she’s as still as a statue, virtually immovable. Zishu turns to see what’s going on, hoping to spot Kexing, when a gunshot tears through her world like a lightning strike.
“Zhou-xiǎojiě.”
Zishu rips her arm away from him and runs.
She runs faster than she has in her life.
She pushes past the line of officers standing guard at the entrance, tuning out their pleas for her to stop, to come back. Her thoughts are an endless loop of ‘Kexing, Kexing, Kexing.’
She rushes into the gas station and frantically searches the aisles, praying that she doesn’t stumble upon a body. She nearly sobs once she finds Kexing crouched in a corner like a wounded animal, hauntingly still. Zishu knows nobody else will shoot now that she’s here, which is the only saving grace of the entire situation.
“Wen Kexing, I know you’re insane but this is a new level of crazy, even for you. What did you do?!”
“I called them. I told them that I was holding you hostage and that I was armed so that-”
“They could kill you? Do you think I’d be happier in a world without you in it?”
Anger is a hard knot in the pit of Zishu’s stomach, the burn of betrayal secondary to the pain of being left alone. Kexing has a hand pressed to her bleeding shoulder, gritting her teeth against the pain. Zishu stalks over to push her hand away and look for herself. The bullet only grazed the skin, thankfully. Zishu is both relieved and even more pissed off.
“A-Xu, you were supposed to go. They’re only after me. This is what needs to happen.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Kexing reaches out to her, getting bloody fingerprints on Zishu’s face and neck, “A-Xu-”
“Shut up. We’re getting the hell out of here, even if I have to drag you with me.”
Zishu doesn’t wait for Kexing to react, she grabs her by the arm and pulls her along, holding her tight as they run out the back door. Zishu isn’t sure this will work but, if they have to go out, at least they can go out together.
They manage to evade the cops that are on their heels and Zishu has no qualms about shoving past anyone in her way. Zishu feels like she’s out of her mind until they’re back in the car and she’s gunning it, peeling off so fast that the wheels screech.
“That was very hot of you,” Kexing says, looking a lot greener than she did ten minutes ago. “Extremely sexy.”
“I hate you,” Zishu says and only half means it. “You’re not getting out of this car unless I say so.”
“Gladly. I’m at your mercy.”
Zishu doesn’t dignify that remark with a response. She reaches over to grab Kexing’s hand and doesn’t let go.
(***)
They ditch the van on the side of the road and continue to the train station on foot.
It’s not a particularly long walk, fifteen to twenty minutes, but each step rattles through Zishu like a fork in a blender.
A syrupy kind of sluggishness drags at her heels, exhaustion greedily pulling her down like quicksand. There’s grit behind her eyes and sweat in places that chafe. The sun mercilessly beats down on her head, burning the back of her neck.
She wants the quiet of a dark bedroom, the cool touch of thin sheets, the low hum of the radio that keeps her from sinking too deep into the maze of her mind.
She wants Kexing to bend her into a new shape, one that can handle pressure without breaking.
“Sit down.” Kexing says with a click of her tongue, maneuvering Zishu onto a free bench outside the station.
Zishu takes a moment to reorient herself, watching the steady ebb and flow of afternoon commuters with a discerning eye. There are no suspicious looking men in too plain clothes or any double takes in their direction. She and Kexing are nothing more than two bedraggled travelers amidst the flock.
“Are you thirsty?” Kexing asks as she gingerly pushes Zishu’s hair away from her face.
Her hands are equally sweaty, no help at all. Zishu leans forward, pressing her forehead more firmly into the cradle of Kexing’s palm.
“I can grab something on the train.”
Zishu doesn’t plan on spending any money on overpriced drinks and Kexing knows this but she doesn’t press the issue. Kexing pulls her hand away to rifle through her bag, shuffling things around until she retrieves a half empty bottle of water.
“Won’t you have a little? Imagine how much attention you’d draw if you fainted from heatstroke.” Kexing twists off the cap and holds the bottle to Zishu’s mouth, “Drink some for me?”
“You're insufferable.” Zishu says and snatches the bottle from Kexing’s hand. She downs the rest of the lukewarm water in one long pull as Kexing watches in rapt silence.
“Good girl. Aren’t you glad I’m here to take care of you? I’ll keep you fed and comfortable and all you have to do is warm my bed.”
“You’re a freak,” Zishu mutters, heat stirring in her gut, “Who says I want to do that?”
“You’d like it.” Kexing’s itchy fingers start creeping up under the back of her shirt and Zishu swats her away, “You’ll never have to lift a finger. Of course, I can’t let you leave. You’d have to stay inside where nobody else can see you.”
Zishu hates how her pulse picks up at the thought of herself trapped in Kexing’s clutches, kept under lock and key. She should be mortified, annoyed even, but all she finds is low simmering desire.
Thankfully, Zishu is spared from further inconvenience as their train comes into view. It crawls to a stop with a squeal and a hiss, engine chugging. Zishu slings her bag over her shoulder and heads over to join the crowd of waiting passengers. Kexing stands beside her, wearing a look much too heated for the daytime.
Zishu shuffles onto the train and takes an empty seat at the back of the car, closest to the window. Kexing drops down right next to her, making sure she takes up as much of Zishu’s personal space as the seating allows.
“Excuse me, that seat’s taken.” Zishu says with her nicest smile, “You’ll have to go somewhere else.”
Kexing grins back, “Are you certain? I was told I’d meet a beautiful woman on my commute today and here you are. It’d be a shame if you denied fate.”
“Recycling material now, Kexing? You’ve used that one before.”
“No need to get rid of something that works.”
Kexing starts kneading Zishu’s shoulder, working at a stubborn knot that’s been bugging her for a while. Zishu bites back a groan as Kexing’s thumb digs into the muscle, pain flaring to life before it’s swiftly snuffed out.
“Finally, you make yourself useful.” Zishu says with a soft sigh, tilting her head so Kexing can massage her neck, “Maybe I will take you up on that offer.”
“I knew you’d see reason eventually.”
Zishu closes her eyes as the train pulls off, rumbling down the track. She drifts off with Kexing’s hands relieving all the painful places and a brightness in her chest that rivals the setting sun.
(***)
As soon as they arrive in Beijing, Zishu buys herself a new prepaid phone and dials the last number she has for Jing Beiyuan.
The line rings and rings and Zishu thinks her luck has run out. Of course, Beiyuan isn’t here anymore. She dropped off the grid once before; she can easily do it again.
“Hello?”
Beiyuan has the same airy, aloofness in her voice that Zishu remembers. Zishu cuts her eyes over to Kexing, who’s doing a poor job of not eavesdropping, before she responds.
“I was promised a drink.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end and some shuffling around, a murmured voice in the background that Zishu slowly comes to recognize.
“Zishu, it’s been quite some time. Where are you?”
“The subway station in Daxing.”
Kexing lounges on a narrow bench, whistling tunelessly and watching Zishu like a hawk. As if she’s the one that needs to be monitored.
“Stay there. Wuxi and I will come pick you up.”
“Sorry to drop in like this.”
“I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got some catching up to do.”
“You have no idea.”
They say their goodbyes and Zishu sits down to await their arrival. Kexing has a sour look on her face, mouth all twisted up.
“I didn’t know you two still talked.”
“We haven’t spoken in forever. It’ll be good to see each other again.”
“Hm.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still jealous. Beiyuan and I are friends.”
“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like her.”
Zishu shakes her head. “You hardly ever spoke to her.”
“Yeah, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
Zishu pats Kexing’s knee in consolation and laughs when Kexing’s expression gets even darker. Beiyuan may be beautiful but it takes a lot more than that to capture Zishu’s attention. She doesn’t fall for just anyone.
An hour goes by before a black Toyota Corolla pulls into the nearly empty parking lot. It’s not as flashy as the cars Beiyuan used to ride in but somehow Zishu knows it’s her. Kexing follows along behind her as she heads over, dragging her feet like a tantruming toddler.
Wuxi is behind the wheel, as straight faced as ever, the long ink spill of her hair falling down her back. The snake tattoo on her bicep seems to shift in the shadows, half-concealed by her shirt sleeve. She greets Zishu silently, a slight upturn of her lips that fades as she takes in Kexing. Kexing isn’t helping her cause, looking past Wuxi and straight at Beiyuan in the passenger seat. Zishu shoves her into the backseat with a glare before climbing in after.
“Zishu, long time no see.” Beiyuan twists around in her seat. “And Kexing, it’s nice to see you again.”
Beiyuan hasn’t lost any of her supermodel-esque looks or her charm, commanding attention in a way that most people would kill for. Kexing presses up against Zishu like they don’t have an entire backseat to fill, hand gripping her knee.
“Beiyuan.”
“This is my wife, Wuxi,” Beiyuan says breezily, which seems to get Kexing to relax some.
“You’re in a lot of trouble,” Wuxi says, blunt and to the point. “I’m surprised you made it here.”
Zishu rests her head against the window. “We had some minor setbacks. I’m sure you know why we came to you.”
Beiyuan smiles with her mouth but not her eyes. “Let’s have that drink first, then we’ll talk.”
She switches on the radio and they take the rest of the ride in silence.
(***)
TEN YEARS AGO
“Is anyone sitting here?”
Zishu has been reading an old xianxia novel in relative peace for the better part of fifteen minutes, ignoring the chatter of the rest of her classmates.
She knew it wouldn’t last long.
Zishu looks up to find a girl she’s never spoken to before hovering near her desk, waiting. She’s heard rumblings about a transfer student and has seen her in the halls because she’s tall enough to stick out. Up close, she doesn’t look as imposing. A bit odd but certainly not intimidating.
“No,” Zishu finally says, lamenting the loss of her little isolated corner.
The girl puts down her bag and sits and Zishu is about to get back to her book when she’s interrupted again.
“I’m Wen Kexing,” the girl tells her, as if Zishu cares. “What’s your name?”
Zishu turns to another page. “Zhou Xu.”
“Zhou Xu. It’s nice to meet you. Ah, your book. That's like The Legend of the Condor Heroes, right? I used to watch it some mornings when I was little. The martial arts are pretty cool.”
Zishu stares at the words on the page, comprehending none of them, and resigns herself to her fate.
(***)
A drink turns into several with the added addition of a blunt, courtesy of Wuxi’s flourishing marijuana plants.
The apartment Beiyuan and Wuxi share is an eclectic mix of utilitarian and traditional, most of the assorted artwork and decorations clearly handpicked by Beiyuan. The bookshelves are crammed with dense scientific literature and notebooks, organized without any clear rhyme or reason. There’s a black ferret bouncing around the living room that occasionally makes its way to Beiyuan for attention before disappearing into some corner or another.
Zishu feels right at home, like this is something she does every weekend.
Kexing has finally hidden away her teeth, relaxed enough to strike up a detailed conversation with Wuxi about medicine. Zishu is tuning most of it out, too fuzzy headed and loose to follow along. Beiyuan sits at her side, head lolled onto her shoulder.
“So, you and Kexing.”
“Yeah.” Zishu doesn’t need to say much more than that. “You’re sure about New York?”
“Mhm. Wuxi and I are moving there soon. It’ll be nice for you guys to be there too.” Beiyuan smiles. “I’m happy for you, Zishu. You seem…better.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Exactly as it was meant.”
“A-Xu,” Kexing calls, extending a hand. “Get away from her.”
Zishu and Beiyuan exchange a look before Zishu goes to the opposite side of the room. Kexing hasn’t said it but Zishu can tell she’s nervous. There are a million ways things can go wrong and they haven’t had the best track record thus far.
If all goes well, they’ll hop on a plane in two days and go to the states where some of Wuxi’s family will help them get settled. It’s very risky but Zishu has no reservations.
For the first time in a long time, the future seems worth fighting for.
(***)
FIVE YEARS LATER
The biting chill of early morning autumn air is bracingly cold against Zishu’s bare arms.
The world is still and peaceful, settled neatly in those elongated hours between day and night where everything seems elusory. Zishu is nestled in the gray-blue dawn, studying how the sky and ocean blend together into one creature without horizon or borders. The gentle rolling of small waves and the distant call of seagulls is a better wake up call than any alarm. Zishu digs her fingers into the sand, which is dry but so cold that it seems wet, and thinks about trees spreading their roots, anchoring themselves where it’s easy to grow.
A wool blanket is draped over her shoulders, already skin warm and carrying the trace of Kexing’s perfume. Kexing herself sits down behind Zishu, scooting closer until Zishu is bracketed between her legs and she can wrap her arms around Zishu like a clinging spider monkey. The sudden shift in temperature makes Zishu shivery. Kexing adjusts the blanket with a put upon sigh before she presses her cheek to the crown of Zishu’s head.
“My husband is so cruel, leaving me to wake up in an empty bed.”
“And yet here you are.”
Kexing makes a little affronted sound before she reaches back for something and - ah - Zishu isn’t surprised when Kexing presses a thermos into her hands. Warmth bleeds from it, not hot enough to singe her hands but a relief for her poor stiff fingers. Zishu unscrews the cap and takes a sip of earthy tea. She’s not familiar with all the nuances and varieties but Kexing insists it’s good for her and Zishu is willing to put up with it if only so Kexing doesn’t go back to pestering her to eat walnuts.
Zishu drinks half of the tea before giving the rest to Kexing, who takes little nips from it as they watch the sunrise. The brightness hurts Zishu’s eyes but she doesn’t dare look away. Something unfurls inside her chest, a knot of tension she didn’t know she was carrying. It would be nice to stay here awhile; she could get used to this.
“A-Xu.” Kexing leans in to press a kiss to Zishu’s cheek, the cold tip of her nose sending shocks through Zishu’s nerves, “You won’t even give me face. What have I done wrong?”
“My back hurts.” Zishu says, letting Kexing’s squawking wash over her like saltwater, “That’s the last time I let you talk me into sleeping outside.”
Kexing - the animal that she is - decides to retaliate by biting Zishu’s neck. Zishu swears and tries to pull free from the cage of Kexing’s arms which sends them both toppling over. They grapple with each other like school children, fumbling around in the sand and yelling obscenities. Kexing’s hair falls into Zishu’s face, a silvery shroud that renders her momentarily blind. Zishu feels Kexing’s breathless laughter as a rumbling in her chest, the sound swept away by the crashing waves. Flecks of ocean water spray across her face and Zishu yells because there’s nobody here that cares and because it feels f*cking good.
Kexing stills, peering down at her with a fathomless expression Zishu can’t quite parse before she descends on her like a carrion bird, all greedy tongue and teeth. They kiss and kiss and kiss until Zishu’s whole body is aflame and the only taste she remembers is Kexing.
As nice as it would be to let Kexing tear her clothes off here in the open air, Zishu isn’t keen on getting covered in sand and she’s still sore from last night. She rolls onto her side and Kexing goes with her. Her face is flushed as pink as her kiss-bitten lips and Zishu drinks her fill, watching Kexing as she slowly comes back to herself.
“Pack up our stuff.” Zishu murmurs as she cups Kexing’s face, swiping little bits of sand away from her cheek, “If we leave now, we can make it back before dark.”
“A-Xu, I wanna-”
“No.” Zishu pushes Kexing’s hands away from her belly before she climbs to her feet, “Let’s go home. Then my wife can do whatever she pleases.”
Kexing scrambles up to press a quick kiss to the tip of Zishu’s nose, “My husband knows how to be kind after all.”
Zishu watches Kexing scurry off to pack up their supplies and breathes in deep, letting the salty air spread through her body. There will always be new places to see and journeys to take.
With Kexing by her side, Zishu is in no hurry.
