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Mid-morning downtown brought traffic, crowded sidewalks, the noise of thousands of people on the move, and a hostage situation in a busy cafe. Bai Yutang’s team had been brought in because of some supposed unexplainable phenomenon to do with the attack, but after an hour hunkered down behind the police line, Bai Yutang and Zhan Yao had decided it had just been some coincidental electrical malfunction in the cafe’s overhead lights, flickering as their witnesses ran out the door.
Bai Yutang scanned the opaque cafe windows again and scowled. They’d set up tents and a communications array, stationed snipers above and armed officers on the ground. Behind him, Zhan Yao was speaking calmly and comfortingly on the phone to the hostage-taker. They’d been at it for ten minutes, Zhan Yao deftly creating a rapport with the distraught young man. It was going so well that Bai Yutang was beginning to hope they could end this entirely through Zhan Yao’s patient listening skills.
Then Zhan Yao put down the phone and said, “I need to go in there and talk to him in person.”
“Like hell you do,” Bai Yutang said.
But Zhan Yao was already fitting a bulletproof vest over his shoulders, ignoring Bai Yutang’s carefully considered response the way he always ignored good sense. Where were those patient listening skills in times like these? “He promised to release most of the hostages if I came in and helped him talk to his girlfriend.”
The girlfriend was in there too. She’d broken up with him recently, which put her in the most danger. And if anyone could talk this man down, it was Zhan Yao.
“Fine. Fine. We have dinner at your mother’s tonight, though. No getting out of it.”
Zhan Yao gave him a one-cornered smile, eyes crinkling, then went off to get a wire and make other preparations.
Five minutes later, Bai Yutang stood with him just behind the police tape across from the cafe, triple-checking Zhan Yao’s vest. He looked up from adjusting a Velcro strap to see a white envelope in front of his face.
“What is this?” he asked, pushing Zhan Yao’s hand away, refusing to touch the envelope.
Diffident, Zhan Yao shrugged. “Just in case. It’s for you.”
“You already gave me one of these, and I lost it, remember? Go stick it in the trash.”
Ordinarily, he’d have stepped away and raised his hands, fending him off. But Zhan Yao was about to go alone to a man with a gun. Bai Yutang stayed close in his personal space.
“You can toss it yourself, then,” Zhan Yao said, unperturbed. He slid it under the low collar of Bai Yutang’s vest, between it and his dress shirt. “See you in a bit.”
With that, he ducked under the tape, raised both hands and walked slowly to the cafe, not looking back.
Bai Yutang was cool, but he would never be as cool as Zhan Yao.
A minute after Zhan Yao vanished into the cafe, the door opened, expelling fifteen hostages in various states of upset. The ones calm enough to interview described the hostage taker as a young man in a jagged mood, oscillating between violent outbursts and saddened regret. He had been at his calmest on the phone with Zhan Yao. Only the girlfriend and Zhan Yao had been left with him.
Bai Yutang listened to the witnesses and the wire at the same time. Zhan Yao had confirmed neither the girlfriend nor the hostage taker were injured. He was now praising the guy for letting everyone else go, for saving lives. Bai Yutang would make sure the right person got recognition for that.
Any recognition he might get would be well deserved; Zhan Yao was top in the field and this conversation was a master class in hostage negotiation. The two men talked quietly, the woman wisely minimizing her presence, probably at Zhan Yao’s silent urging. Bai Yutang was left, for the moment, with no way to burn the adrenaline that had kicked in the moment Zhan Yao had vanished into the cafe. The envelope tucked against his chest poked his chin; he pushed it down out of sight.
Then, over the radio, a third voice interrupted the conversation that had been going so well.
“Oh, no!” It was a man, startled and afraid. Had someone been left in the cafe? Maybe hiding?
“Who are you? Are you a cop?” The hostage-taker, voice rising into volatility.
“He’s not a cop, I promise,” Zhan Yao said. He was still calm, but beneath that, shaken. Something was going wrong in there.
Shots rang out tinny over the receiver, echoing loud in the street milliseconds later. The wire went silent. Bai Yutang was already halfway to the door, followed by his squad.
He crashed inside, gun in front. It took a moment for the scene to coalesce. A young woman was sheltering under a little table with her arms covering her head, shocked but looking unhurt. A little ways away, Zhan Yao stood over the prone form of their hostage taker, appearing pleased with himself. The unexpected third man was nowhere to be seen.
“He ran back to the bathroom when Gao shot at him,” Zhan Yao said when he saw Bai Yutang looking around with his gun still raised. “I think he was hiding there until it got quiet.”
Their hostage-taker, Gao, lay unmoving on the floor, but breathing.
“You took him out?” Bai Yutang asked, holstering his gun. All around them, their colleagues were securing the scene.
“He turned his back on me to shoot, and I used that move you showed me, the cowardly one for incapacitating people from behind?”
“Now you can’t knock it,” Bai Yutang said, to cover up how proud he was.
For the rest of the day, Bai Yutang was too busy keeping an eye on Zhan Yao and doing paperwork to think much about the envelope. A little after five, he did pull it out and contemplate what could possibly be written inside. Some kind of goodbye he would never be ready for.
He put it under a stack of training manuals languishing in the bottom drawer of his desk and got up to collect Zhan Yao for dinner. It wouldn’t do to make them late.
—-
Weeks passed. Zhan Yao got a commendation for the bloodless resolution to the cafe hostage situation. Bai Yutang actually suspected more than one team member besides him had put in the paperwork, but Bao wasn’t talking. More emergencies cropped up and the team handled them like pros, becoming more unified every day. Alone with each other in his office, Bai Yutang told Zhan Yao he was glad he’d stayed on, that they were a good team. Zhan Yao held his gaze before, inexplicably, color rose high in his cheeks and he turned away to contemplate a whiteboard.
The days got colder, seasons changing, and Bai Yutang realized that the need for him to stay at Zhan Yao’s had ended when their first case closed. He got the sense here and there that Zhan Yao had realized that too, but instead of talking about it, they seemed to have entered into a competition of sorts where the first person to mention Bai Yutang moving out would be the loser. Like most of their competitions, the rules were unspoken but implicit, and the consequences for losing were murky but unpleasant.
As a result, Bai Yutang went to sleep every night at Zhan Yao’s feeling victorious—or was that just mostly content?—and he opened his eyes most mornings to see Zhan Yao regarding him grimly but otherwise silent on the matter of his presence.
On cold nights like these, Bai Yutang was especially grateful for their arrangement, because he himself ran cold while Zhan Yao ran very hot. Being with him under the covers was heaven, a paradise of comfortable humidity. The only thing better would be if he could lie closer and put his arms around him, snuffle into his hair and push one knee between his legs. It would be so warm, and the scent of clean, masculine sweat always made him kind of happily lethargic. They usually woke up in some sort of contact—sandwiched together awkwardly, one time somehow holding hands—but that was accidental. When they bedded down together at the end of the night, the only awkwardness for Bai Yutang came from not bridging those final inches and touching. But he knew Zhan Yao did not feel the same.
Zhan Yao had never signaled any kind of welcome for more than what had always been their way. They ate all their meals together, drove to and from work together, went to the gym and relaxed in the sauna together, used obscure shorthand to talk about things that had happened to them both ten, fifteen, twenty years ago, spent holidays with each other’s families. As a status quo, it was good and would have to be enough. What they had was the sort of thing that—if Bai Yutang didn’t rock the boat—would last into old age.
That was probably why Zhan Yao had given him those goodbye notes. As if Bai Yutang would ever let it come to goodbye.
“Why are you thinking so hard?” Zhan Yao whined from under the blankets. “I can hear you from here and you’re keeping me up!”
“Can you really hear my thoughts?” Bai Yutang asked. It would be mortifying, but not at all surprising.
“If only I could,” Zhan Yao muttered, then hit him with a pillow.
After the ensuing tussle, Bai Yutang spread the blanket over them both again and kept the normal distance between them while he warmed up again. Zhan Yao fell asleep fast. Even the dark, he looked sweet dreaming. Bai Yutang fell asleep mostly content.
—
The problem with all of Zhan Yao’s most terrible plans was that in addition to making Bai Yutang want to bang his head against the wall, they also made logical sense. And while Bai Yutang had long since decided never to let logic get in the way of protecting Zhan Yao, the two of them were equals and sometimes that had to matter more. At least they were having this discussion privately in Zhan Yao’s office, the team outside waiting for orders.
“It was clear when we interviewed him that Li Hua took an immediate, inappropriate interest in me,” Zhan Yao said, as though Bai Yutang could possibly have missed Li’s scary infatuation. He must have made an editorial noise because Zhan Yao flicked his eyes at him before continuing. “If we send anyone else, he won’t come out.”
Logical, damnit.
“Okay, but how will he know where to find you? If we knew where he was, we wouldn’t have to lure him.”
The guilty length of Zhan Yao’s pause did not bode well. “Bai Yutang, I didn’t have a chance to tell you, what with everything that happened today.”
“Oh my god, you saw him already. Did he touch you? Are you okay?” He reached out and started patting his chest and arms.
“I’m fine,” he said, brushing Bai Yutang away, but not very far. “He didn’t approach, just followed us from work to the murder scene. He’s probably nearby right now.”
And that was how Bai Yutang agreed to let Zhan Yao play bait for a serial killer.
Bai Yutang personally fitted Zhan Yao with a wire, clipping and tucking so it stayed concealed. Zhan Yao reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
“Stop worrying. I won’t leave your sight.”
“Bet on it,” Bai Yutang said. He buttoned up Zhan Yao’s shirt and helped him into his suit jacket. He wouldn’t go armed, in case Li got close and somehow got a hold of the weapon. It would feel like sending Zhan Yao out naked except that Zhan Yao’s words were his most powerful weapons.
Zhan Yao then undercut the confidence Bai Yutang had built up in the plan by digging into his pocket and pulling out a sealed white envelope.
“This again? I thought you were sure!”
“I am! But take it. There’s always a little risk.”
Bai Yutang snatched the envelope and stuffed it messily into his pocket. “Fine. Nothing happened the last couple times, so I’ll keep it for good luck.”
Zhan Yao sighed and relaxed a degree. “All right,” he said quietly.
They eyed each other, and Bai Yutang realized they still stood chest to chest. Zhan Yao was placid and unexpectant in the silent beats that followed, but not closed off. Bai Yutang could easily….
“Here,” he murmured, and reached into his collar to switch on the wire, fingers accidentally brushing skin. Zhan Yao jumped a little, then gave a low, self-deprecating laugh, and went into the bullpen.
Soon after, Zhan Yao left the office and exited the building through the front doors, on a pleasant, ordinary walk to the restaurant district several blocks away. The sun was setting, the light fading, a perfect time to get kidnapped and strangled.
Bai Yutang tailed him, the rest of the team stationed all around, and never did let him out of his sight. He watched Zhan Yao go into a bar and come out with a cocktail to sit on the patio alone, basically waiting to be joined by the serial killer.
He was so focused on Zhan Yao that he didn’t notice the man behind him until it was too late. A white cloth came up across his face, pressed against his nose and mouth, and he knew nothing more.
He woke up to a terrible headache, worse than when he’d hit his head diving into his aunt’s pool when he and Zhan Yao were twelve. His hands were cuffed behind his back with what felt like his own cuffs. Opening his eyes, he saw a dumpster and a brick wall, overlaid with dark shadow. Given the scrapes stinging all over his body, he’d been dragged into an alley. There was silence in his ear; his radio had been removed. He didn’t know where his gun was, but it wasn’t in his shoulder holster anymore.
Behind him, galloping footsteps ended in a heavy kick to his waist. A man yelled, “You bastard!”
Straining past the pain, Bai Yutang turned over and squinted into the dark. There was a streetlight at the far entrance of the alley, backlighting Li, his hair wild, stance askew, electric energy thrumming through his movement and voice. Glinting down by his feet was Bai Yutong’s service weapon. And washed out by the cold light was a crushed envelope. Li held a sheet of white paper.
“Hey, that’s not for you!” Bai Yutang yelled, incensed. Just because he wasn’t going to read it didn’t mean anyone else could. Especially this guy.
“He’s supposed to be mine, you bastard!” Li bent to lift him by the shoulder and dropped him hard onto the pavement. It fractured something, going by the sick pain that flooded his body, but Bai Yutang pushed himself and threaded his legs with Li’s, then twisted hard to bring him down to the ground.
The next thing he knew, though, Li had his hands around his neck, squeezing with deadly intent. This was his method of killing, quick and effective strangulation. Thank God he hadn’t gone after Zhan Yao instead. Bai Yutang struggled ineffectually. White and black dots took over his vision. As everything faded away, his memory did something unexpected and took him back to swimming in his aunt’s pool with Zhan Yao when they were twelve. Shocked by the scent of chlorine and sunblock, he turned his eyes down from a too-bright, cloudless sky and looked into Zhan Yao’s wide, reddened eyes, watched water drip from his hair, felt the droplets land on his face.
Bai Yutang came back to himself with a painful gasp as finally the hands left his throat and Li flew backward. Bai Yutang tried to look, but his vision was off, and he still couldn’t all the way breathe. Then, a gunshot.
“Bai Yutang!” He flinched away at first when hands returned to hover over his body, but immediately recognized the intrinsic something he always felt in Zhan Yao’s presence. He relaxed back to the ground, still panting for breath. “He’s dead, don’t worry.”
“You?” he croaked, very concerned.
Zhan Yao’s eyes widened, and he carefully repositioned Bai Yutang’s head to look at his neck. By the face he made, there were probably bruises shaped like handprints. He spoke into his collar, requesting an ambulance.
“Don’t talk, Xiao Bai.”
The nickname came out only rarely, and only from Zhan Yao. On a good day, it had the effect on him of being scritched behind the ears in the sunlight. Right now, which was not a good day, it made him want to reach out and… and….
“We’ll get those cuffs off you. I don’t have my keys and I don’t want to jostle you. I’m sorry, Bai Yutang. I drew the wrong conclusion and he almost—“
Bai Yutang shook his head. He’d made the same mistake, and he hadn’t watched his own back, and the result was that Zhan Yao had a death on his conscience. The same death wouldn’t have weighed on Bai Yutang, but it would be different for Zhan Yao.
Running footsteps and the voices of their team echoed from down the way, and Bai Yutang’s head shot up. “Grab—ukh—the letter.” Damn, his throat was fucked up, but he didn’t want that entered into evidence.
Zhan Yao left his side for a moment. He returned with the crumpled envelope and stationary, which he folded neatly and put in his own pocket. Then he was kneeling by Bai Yutang, helping him keep from turning his head. It made Bai Yutang think of the memory of the pool, Zhan Yao hovering over him, backlit by the sun, while he coughed up water. It also made him wonder what was written in that letter.
Seeing his eyes on his pocket, Zhan Yao patted it and observed, “This one was less lucky.”
—
“Hey, Cat,” Bai Yutang signed from his hospital bed. He had several signs for Zhan Yao’s nickname, from sticking two fingers up from behind each ear and curling them up and down to drawing one hand in a wavy horizontal line as though petting a cat from neck to tail. For this conversation, he flicked both thumbs out from the side of his nose to make whiskers. “Do you remember when I almost drowned in Auntie Bai’s pool?”
By the wide-eyed expression on Zhan Yao’s face, the answer was yes. “What about it?” he signed back. “Are we having a walk down near-death experience lane?”
Bai Yutang wasn’t supposed to use his voice at all, or he would have laughed. That would be a very long lane.
“I had a flashback while he was strangling me.” He made a wringing gesture and stuck out his tongue to account for not knowing the sign for strangling. Zhan Yao’s lips twitched. “To when you pulled me out of the pool.”
“That’s so random. Why do you think it happened?” He leaned back in the chair beside the bed, unconsciously assuming the posture of a clinician.
Bai Yutang shrugged. “I think because my head hurt in the same way as then.”
“Well, your parents already know about this incident. I had to call and reassure them you were fine.” Bai Yutang had a rule against his parents coming to visit him in the hospital for work injuries. Too much drama for everyone involved. He was pretty sure his parents appreciated it. “I still can’t believe they never found out about the pool thing.”
Keeping his near-drowning from the adults in their lives had been Bai Yutang’s idea, but Zhan Yao had seen the logic of preserving their pool privileges. They’d spent the summer in that backyard wearing only swim trunks, getting dark and freckled, chasing each other around and throwing a football back and forth from one end of the pool to the other. When direct sunlight got too hot, they’d drunk lemonade in the shade and sat close in lawn chairs reading while the grass grew around them. It was one of the best summers of Bai Yutang’s youth.
“Me neither. It’s funny how I relived you saving my life and then you came and did it again.”
Zhan Yao looked at him thoughtfully for longer than would have been strictly comfortable if they hadn’t known each other so long, their entire lives. He opened his mouth to say something a couple times, then looked down at his hands and signed, “That is funny.”
Later, Bai Yutang woke from a long nap to find himself alone in the hospital room, the lights dim, shades drawn. When he shifted, his hand brushed paper, and he found a dirty and crinkled envelope under his palm. It had been sealed with clear office tape, easy to open if he chose. Thinking of opening it made his heart beat faster, but he was greedy. The memory resurfaced of Zhan Yao hovering over him, his face immediate and taking up his entire view. His eyes were round and reddened. He trembled in the sun. Everything between them had been open in that moment. Bai Yutang had raised his hand to Zhan Yao’s cheek and then vomited out half the pool. That was what he wanted now, minus the water in his lungs.
When he was well enough to work, the envelope would go in his desk drawer with the other ones, unopened.
—
With spring came rain, bright flowers, and a hypnotism cult dedicated to Zhao Jue. Bai Yutang and Zhan Yao fought over the investigation for five days straight until finally Bao got involved and sided with Zhan Yao.
“Sir—“
“You’ve had this long to work it out yourselves,” Bao said. “Professor Zhan is the only one qualified to infiltrate that group and determine whether they are behind the murders. Do you disagree?”
“No, but—“
“Then that’s that. Professor Zhan, you will take every precaution and leave if it gets hot. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” For having won, Zhan Yao didn’t look too victorious. He went into his office and closed the door.
For his part, Bai Yutang moped around the office all morning, reading case files and browsing the hypnotism cult’s Instagram. A lot of pictures of the six suspects hanging out in their creepy old house, posing with pocket watches hanging from long chains. They seemed not to realize how ridiculous they looked. Any of them could be the killer, or maybe all of them, and tomorrow Zhan Yao would be joining them.
He’d be joining them and if something happened, the last five rough days would be the last thing they had between them. Bai Yutang hissed air out between his teeth and stood up.
Fifteen minutes later, he knocked on Zhan Yao’s door and entered without invitation. Zhan Yao looked up from typing. “You brought takeaway?”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been a jerk. Come on and eat.”
They shoved their chairs close together at the side table where Zhan Yao kept old notes and books in unkempt piles that made Bai Yutang twitch. Zhan Yao kept cutting his eyes over to Bai Yutang, who was starting to realize that a five-day fight had perhaps been overdoing it. He hadn’t gotten any sleep with Zhan Yao taking the sofa, and they hadn’t eaten together in all that time either.
“How are you planning to get in?” he asked.
Zhan Yao seemed to weigh whether it was another shot fired or a peace offering before settling on the latter. “I’ve already submitted my supposed profile through their web form. I think it looks authentic enough to make them curious.”
Indeed, by the end of the day, Zhan Yao had an invitation to interview with the six hypnotists at a coffee shop in a trendy part of town. Bai Yutang agreed with Zhan Yao that they would check him for wires, so he had Ma Han run over and plant little cameras where she could. And then it was time.
Watching Zhan Yao walk into danger would never get easier, he realized, sitting in a surveillance van nearby and watching grainy video of him ordering a latte. Also, he was going to be up all night now.
The six hypnotists waved him over to their table, Zhan Yao sat down, and the interview began. Zhan Yao spoke at length of his admiration for Zhao Jue, how he wished he could meet and learn from him, really laying it on thick. The hypnotists ate it up, though, and opened up about the training regimen they had developed in their spooky house (not their terminology) and how far their powers had grown. It was both very goofy and kind of disturbing. Not surprisingly, no one mentioned the six murders they might have committed over the past year.
At the end of the night, they invited Zhan Yao to come live with them.
“We think you’re already one of us,” Liu Meimei said.
“Yeah, the way you talk about Zhao Jue, it’s like you know him,” said Wang Jun.
Great, Zhan Yao had, with typical overachievement, made himself leader of the cult.
“There’s a second bed in my room, brother,” said the guy who’d been mostly quiet all night, Feng Xi. “I’d be honored to share it with you—“
Bai Yutang choked on a poorly timed gulp of water.
“—Oh! I mean the room. Just the room.”
But he didn’t actually seem apologetic, especially the way he held eye contact with Zhan Yao.
Finally, plans made for Zhan Yao to move in tomorrow, the party broke up. The group went one way down the street and Zhan Yao the other. A couple blocks away, Ma Han pulled up in the van and Zhan Yao jumped in. He and Bai Yutang shared a long look.
At home that night, Bai Yutang cooked some of Zhan Yao’s favorite dishes, partly more apology, partly because he wouldn’t have a chance to feed him for some time. It might be weeks before he came back from living with the cult. He hoped they knew how to cook.
They sat on the same side of the table to eat and caught up on whatever else had been going on in each other’s lives while they had been fighting.
“Hey, watch out for that Feng Xi guy. He is not subtle.”
Zhan Yao chuckled. “Yeah, that was almost as bad as one of your lines.”
Bai Yutang had indeed picked up men using some truly terrible lines. He hadn’t realized Zhan Yao had been paying attention. It made him feel… something. Definitely something.
He helped Zhan Yao pack by folding up the wadded up clothes Zhan Yao tossed into a suitcase and laying them down neatly. He added extra socks, a bottle of daily vitamins, some protein powder, and a few non-cook foods that wouldn’t spoil. He looked up as he was patting it all down neatly to see Zhan Yao standing in the doorway in his pajamas, eyes soft.
“Stop packing and come to bed,” he said.
Relieved to be able to stop—how much of the apartment would he have been able to fit in one suitcase?—but also unaccountably nervous, Bai Yutang got up and put on his sleeping sweats while Zhan Yao settled into bed. With his back turned, he had the feeling of eyes on him, but that was ridiculous. And when he turned around, Zhan Yao was studying the ceiling, deep in thought.
“I should have gone with decaf,” he murmured.
Bai Yutang rolled his eyes. “You have a difficult day tomorrow. Try to sleep anyway.”
After turning off the light, he rolled into his side of the bed and burrowed under the covers, winding up on his side facing Zhan Yao, who turned his head to face him.
“I wish you trusted me more easily.”
Bai Yutang dipped his head and sighed. “I wish I did too. It’s a bad impulse,” he admitted. “Every time you go out there, you knock it out of the park. I should know better.”
“So try harder,” Zhan Yao said, without bite. “You think I enjoy watching you cartwheel over speeding cars and rushing into burning buildings?”
Bai Yutang wisely overlooked that characterization of how he’d stylishly saved the man’s life.
“I know you hate it. We both hate it. But there’s nothing else we’d rather do, is there?”
Zhan Yao huffed a laugh. “There really isn’t. Come on, go to sleep.”
And then he slid closer, pushed him to lie on his back, and stretched one long, warm arm over his chest. His chin wound up resting against Bai Yutang’s shoulder, his knees pressed against Bai Yutang’s knee. They were touching all along Bai Yutang’s side.
This was new, if you discounted how they often woke up in the morning, having naturally gravitated to each other. But you couldn’t blame anyone for what happened in their sleep, so they never talked about it.
It was just as good as waking up first with Zhan Yao asleep in his arms. Except—it was better. They were both awake and Zhan Yao had initiated it. He smiled. Wow.
Wishing to show some kind of positive reinforcement, as Zhan Yao might have put it, Bai Yutang lifted his free hand and put it over the hand on his chest. Instead of snatching it away, Zhan Yao exhaled and went completely relaxed.
Tomorrow he would pack Zhan Yao out to a spooky house full of hypnotist cultists, without complaint. And in the future, he’d do essentially the same thing whenever Zhan Yao was needed. No more fights. No more ultimatums. He would just have to work harder to protect him wherever the job sent him. Zhan Yao couldn’t argue with that. He slid his hand up to Zhan Yao’s wrist and back down again to his fingers, stopped moving when Zhan Yao mumbled something in his sleep. He hoped this case didn’t last long.
—
All too soon, he was dropping Zhan Yao a few blocks away from the cult house. For an awkward moment before Zhan Yao opened his door, Bai Yutang experienced the insane urge to lean over and kiss him goodbye. But was that really insane when just last night they’d fallen asleep right in each other’s arms?
Instead of dropping a bombshell on Zhan Yao right as he was going undercover, Bai Yutang nodded firmly and said, “You’ve got this.”
Zhan Yao looked pleased.
He’d gone in without a wire, but he did have some tiny cameras hidden in a secret compartment of his suitcase. Those started transmitting after twenty-six hours, which was reasonable given that Zhan Yao couldn’t expect much alone time to hide them in a house shared with six cult members. Bai Yutang spent the night on his office couch, folding and unfolding the sealed white envelope he’d found under his keyboard after dropping Zhan Yao off. He drifted to sleep with it sitting over his eyes. Finally, in the twenty-sixth hour, the video went online with one camera view after another, Zhan Yao stepping furtively away from each frame as it went live. They were given views of the communal spaces as well as Zhan Yao’s bedroom, allowing Bai Yutang to watch his back practically everywhere he went. He had already downloaded the video app onto his phone.
On the fourth day of the mission, Bai Yutang sat on a park bench. He was realizing it had been a long time since he’d gone so long without talking to Zhan Yao, and he was also worried about prolonged exposure to the cult. He felt off balance and impatient. But then Zhan Yao approached and he could only laugh.
The cult’s yoga aesthetic meant everyone wore loose linen clothing and sandals. Zhan Yao had the kind of magic that made him look handsome in anything, but he had not had time to go shopping and was now stuck with cast-offs from the rest of the group. They were very… colorful. “That’s even worse off-camera,” Bai Yutang said, eyeing him up and down.
Zhan Yao, who had begun to look happy to see him, rolled his eyes and sat on the other end of the bench, back straight. “Cults do silly things,” he said simply.
Bai Yutang thought about the regimented activities he’d watched on the hidden cameras. Lots of meditation, staring at spoons, group hypnosis practice, and readings of psychological material. They didn’t sleep long at night, waking at 4:30 every morning to go for a group run outside in the thinning dark, followed by breakfast together and then journaling activities. Zhan Yao had made himself fit in not just without complaint but also with astounding fake enthusiasm.
“Not for long,” Bai Yutang replied, looking forward to letting Zhan Yao finally get some alone time. And catching the serial killers, of course.
Zhan Yao reported on the little they’d shared with him about their activities and philosophy. The thing they wanted most was to bring Zhao Jue back from hiding, so they could benefit from his guidance. That likely translated to learning how to commit murders better, but they hadn’t copped to any crimes yet. Zhan Yao thought they might bring him in on it once he earned second-level status, which only was awarded after a rigorous training program and test.
“Are you up for it?” Bai Yutang asked, already concerned about the smudges under his eyes.
Zhan Yao frowned, then seemed to decide the question had come from a place of care instead of doubt. “I’m up for it. Might want a day off after this is over.”
“Granted,” Bai Yutang said. He’d get at least a month, which was standard after a deep cover mission.
“We can go to that French place, have a nice dinner,” Zhan Yao said, staring casually ahead.
“I’d like that,” he said, face heating up for no reason he could name.
–
Bai Yutang found himself checking the camera footage basically all the time. The cult members stayed inside six days a week, with one day allowed for personal errands, meaning Zhan Yao was usually in front of one of the hidden cameras. They mostly had him reading pamphlets and meditating in preparation for the test for second level status, but Zhan Yao found time in between to interview the other cult members under the guise of getting to know them better. He only looked exhausted to someone who knew him very well, his gregariousness unaccustomed and strange to Bai Yutang’s eyes.
A week in to the mission, Bai Yutang was also feeling the strangeness of Zhan Yao’s absence. The bed was cold, the room quiet. He thought about taking Zhan Yao to dinner when he got back, then bedding down together for the first time in weeks. Would he say goodnight and then pull Zhan Yao close enough to smell the back of his neck? Would Zhan Yao relax and go pliant like he had when Bai Yutang had placed his hand over his, or would he apologetically put space between them?
The possibilities making him twitchy, Bai Yutang took out his phone and called up the live feed from the cult house. It looked like everyone had gone to bed right on time, all the shared spaces dark. He found Zhan Yao in bedclothes in the room he shared with Feng Xi, finally alone, and staring right into the camera. The shock of imagined eye contact took Bai Yutang’s breath away and gave him a pang. Then Zhan Yao sighed and climbed into bed. He was about to turn off the bedside lamp when the door opened and Feng Xi came in.
They exchanged pleasantries as Feng Xi got ready for bed, way too much familiarity in how they addressed each other. The light went out, the camera’s night vision kicked in, and Feng Xi said, “Zhan Ce,”—Gongsun had been suitably amused when they gave Zhan Yao his name-–”you’re so diligent in your studies.”
“Thank you, brother Xi. I’m inspired by everyone here.”
“Do you find me inspiring, then?”
Even Zhan Yao’s impressive acting skills could not cover the awkwardness of the pause that followed. “Of course, brother Xi.”
Bai Yutang had thought to just check in and try to go to sleep, but now he was in for the long haul.
The weird silence in the room across town was palpable even through electronic transmission. And then Feng Xi hopped off his bed and climbed under the covers with Zhan Yao. “Are you diligent in other things?” he asked.
Bai Yutang shot out of bed, headed for his holster and the gun safe before realizing what he was doing and grabbing for the phone again. Zhan Yao and Feng Xi lay next to each other and Zhan Yao was speaking. “...grateful and intrigued by your interest, but I’ve committed myself to the group and our quest to learn more from Zhao Jue. Any of the pleasures of life beyond that could only be a distraction. I’m sure you understand.”
Unable, apparently, to argue with that logic, Feng Xi went back to his own bed, promising to follow up after Zhao Jue came to them. Bai Yutang tried to get his heart rate down.
“There is one thing I’ve been wondering,” Zhan Yao said, as though the last five minutes hadn’t happened. The man was so damn cool. “How will Zhao Jue know to come to us?”
“That is second-level knowledge, brother Ce. When you take your test, you’ll understand.”
Bai Yutang really wanted to discuss—well, everything—with Zhan Yao, but settled for propping his phone up and watching the room until it was time for the group to go running ahead of the dawn. It was hard to see even in night vision, but Zhan Yao’s eyes may have been glittering up at him from his pillow.
–
Zhan Yao looked troubled when he walked up to Bai Yutang at the park bench that week.
“I think I know what the second-level test will involve.”
Bai Yutang had stayed up every night in case Zhan Yao’s roommate tried anything else, but the man had kept to his own bed and limited himself only to mild flirtations. He yawned and handed Zhan Yao a coffee, one of the cult’s many forbidden foods. Zhan Yao accepted it with an eager widening of the eyes and sat down.
“They finally said something?” Bai Yutang asked.
“Only that the test will gauge my true hypnotic abilities.”
Based on the way Bai Yutang couldn’t keep away from the hidden camera feeds for long, he’d say Zhan Yao was pretty damn hypnotic. But then he’d always suffered from a little fascination when it came to him. Their knees were touching as they sat beside each other on the bench, eliciting a sense memory of lying close in bed. Bai Yutang took a swig of his own coffee as Zhan Yao ran down his predictions for the test, and focused.
“If they’re going to make you do that, then we need to pull you out,” he said when Zhan Yao had finished. “I hate to do it—I can see you working hard in there—but we can’t endanger a bystander that way.”
“It’s true, even for the sake of a murder investigation. But if I pass to the second level, then I think we can solve this case.”
“You have a plan, don’t you?” Bai Yutang asked, steeling himself. From the age of six on up, Zhan Yao had always had a plan, and Bai Yutang almost always went along with it. When trouble inevitably followed, everyone had always assumed Bai Yutang was the instigator and sweet Zhan Yao was just following along. Bai Yutang was pretty sure that was part of the plan as well.
“I do. Do you want to hear it?”
It would be a relief to have Zhan Yao back home, but they were professionals and there was a serial killer out there—possibly a whole cult of serial killers. He pulled a candy bar out of his jacket pocket and handed it to Zhan Yao. The man hadn’t had sugar in over two weeks. “I do. Lay it on me.”
—
Dressed in business casual and sipping an energy drink outside a cafe, Bai Yutang slumped in his seat and pretended to read his phone. It was early evening in the tech district, and youngish people were walking past on their way home. Bai Yutang had found a quad dotted with cafes and eateries where it wouldn’t look strange for him to just be hanging out, presumably chilling after a long day coding or whatever.
After fifteen minutes, he marked the cult members entering the space separately, each sitting down a non-suspicious distance away from him. The cult didn’t allow phones, so they used books and magazines as cover, Feng Xi scrawling in a notebook next to a fountain. Five minutes later, Zhan Yao entered the tableau, wandering over to sit at the table nearest Bai Yutang. They ignored each other. Bai Yutang kept reading, though even a civilian would have noticed the eerie non-attention concentrated on him by so many people at once.
Eventually, Zhan Yao began tapping one knuckle on the tabletop. Or maybe he had been tapping for a while; it was hard to tell. The tapping continued for a time, the rhythm varying. Bai Yutang could feel a power around him, a deeper fascination overcome him as the tapping took over his full attention. He had an instinct to fight it, but it was Zhan Yao, who he trusted more than anyone. Just as the power was about to consume him, the rhythm of the tapping stuttered, and just like that, Bai Yutang came back to himself. The loss of connection hit him hard, like being winded, but he tried to appear as though nothing had happened.
After more minutes without the tapping affecting him, Bai Yutang put down his phone and sat staring into space. Zhan Yao walked over and sat across from him. He snapped his fingers, way too close to Bai Yutang’s face, obviously just to annoy him while he couldn’t retaliate. It was familiar and oddly comforting. “What’s your name?”
“Bai Lei,” he answered in a monotone, giving one of his undercover aliases. Given the quelling look on Zhan Yao’s face, he’d overdone it with the monotone.
“Follow me, Bai Lei.”
Bai Yutang rose obediently and walked behind Zhan Yao, who stopped where the cult members had gathered by the fountain. They wore expressions of awe and adoration at Zhan Yao’s accomplishment.
“It took me so many tries to do this, and you made it work in one,” Liu Meimei said. She’d made a pass at Zhan Yao on the third day and only seemed to admire him more when he’d given her the same line he’d later given Feng Xi. She was one of the cult members most committed to Zhao Jue.
Zhan Yao inclined his head politely and addressed the group. “He’ll listen to my commands, but no one else’s. As the pamphlet written by Sun Lan says, it’s too taxing on the psyche to obey more than one master. What would you like me to ask him to do?”
Prosaically, they had him empty out his bank account and transfer everything to them, using a popular money transfer app. Fortunately, Zhan Yao and Bai Yutang had been around the block a few times and had activated a dummy account managed by the department.
“Let’s take him home and have the second-level ceremony, then we can move on to the next phase,” Liu Meimei said.
Zhan Yao nodded and said to Bai Yutang, “Come with us.” Bai Yutang did his best to exude passive compliance.
They took the bus back to the spooky old house, Zhan Yao crowding him into the window seat while the group sat in front of them.
“Show us more of your power, Zhan Ce,” one of the cult members said as they walked from the stop. “Make him do something besides just follow us.” His hand came out, aimed to poke Bai Yutang’s shoulder. Quicker than Bai Yutang would have imagined, Zhan Yao caught the guy’s hand and thrust it aside. “Zhan Ce?”
“I’m sorry, Wang Jun, but I’ve taken to heart Zhao Jue’s example of never toying with the victims of my hypnosis.” The words themselves were calm, but Zhan Yao was glaring.
To keep things from getting hotter, Bai Yutang pretended to stumble over some uneven pavement. Zhan Yao reached out a hand to steady him, and the group walked on.
Once inside the house, Bai Yutang was directed to sit on a wooden chair in a corner of the social room. They clearly had little need of him for the moment. Zhan Yao was ushered down the hall by three of the cult members, leaving Bai Yutang to pretend to stare off into space while the other three cult members began redecorating the room. They draped old curtains along the walls, spread out dirty Turkish rugs all over the floor, and put scented candles everywhere. Bai Yutang had to school himself not to sneeze.
Finally, the lights were turned out, and the space was only lit by a true fire hazard of candles. Liu Meimei, whose background check had included two years at a music conservatory, raised an oboe to her lips and began to play quite well, even to Bai Yutang’s ears. An eerie chant was taken up from the hallway, now blocked by a curtain, and the two cult members not playing an instrument in the social room took up a responding chant.
Sitting there in the dark surrounded by chanting cult members and oboe music, Bai Yutang didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What was this ceremony? Were they going to hurt Zhan Yao? Maybe hypnotize him into becoming one of them? Bai Yutang could certainly fight them, but Zhan Yao had gone so far for this case and he wanted that to pay off.
Finally, the group from down the hall emerged from behind the curtain: first two cult members side by side, followed by one, then followed by… Zhan Yao in an oversized yellow silk caftan, wearing a tall papier mache crown.
Bai Yutang had never come so close to blowing an undercover operation in his life, and he never would again. The snort he pushed deep down into his diaphragm was going to give him heartburn for days, but he knew that if he did one thing today, it had to be to pretend indifference to Zhan Yao in that outfit, surrounded by cult members who had by now linked hands and circled him while continuing to chant. Zhan Yao wore a solemn expression that reminded Bai Yutang of a sodden cat.
Suddenly, and for perfectly professional reasons, he thought to wonder whether the hidden cameras had been covered by the curtains. A quick glance showed they were still visible, and he couldn’t help the flash of glee that ran through him. When he turned back to watching the ceremony, Zhan Yao had his eyes narrowed at him, unnoticed by the ecstatic cultists. Bai Yutang winked and watched Zhan Yao’s face go pink.
The ceremony calmed down after a few minutes, Zhan Yao repeated some vows read by Feng Xi, and everyone congratulated Zhan Yao on reaching the second level. Then there was music, organic food and health drinks, and it was clear they would all be partying for a while. Zhan Yao stealthily took off the crown and placed it behind a couch. It had ruffled his hair.
At one point, Zhan Yao excused himself to check on Bai Yutang, who still sat in the corner trying not to fidget. He handed him a cup. The water was refreshing after being in the closed and somewhat smoky room for so long, and their fingers touched as Bai Yutang handed the glass back. He was about to sneak some words in—with no idea what they would be—when Feng Xi appeared at Zhan Yao’s shoulder.
“Brother, your care for this creature is inspiring. I’m sorry to admit I was not nearly so kind to my own thrall.”
“That does surprise me, Brother Xi. What ever happened to him?”
Feng Xi, who had before only seemed supercilious, dropped his smile and flattened his eyes. “You’ll see tomorrow morning, when you reach the third level.”
Zhan Yao seemed as surprised as Bai Yutang to be progressing so quickly up the ranks, but there was no chance to talk it over. Soon enough, Liu Meimei played a couple of sharp, discordant notes on her oboe and everyone went silent. Without a word, they all turned and gathered up Zhan Yao and Bai Yutang and progressed out of the social room and up the stairs, stopping at a door that Feng Xi unlocked with a key. Bai Yutang and Zhan Yao were pressed to the center of the cluster of people in the hall. It wouldn’t be impossible to escape, but he’d have to punch a lot of cultists.
“Zhan Ce,” Liu Meimei intoned, “you have proven yourself worthy of ascending to the third level. Are you prepared to take on the challenge?”
Bai Yutang, knowing Zhan Yao had him in the corner of his vision, gave the slightest nod.
“I am prepared,” Zhan Yao said.
“I’m glad to hear that. You and your thrall must spend the night in the Room of Despair. In the morning, you will emerge enlightened.”
With that, the door was opened and the two of them were all but pushed into the room. Bai Yutang had an impression of red walls before being distracted by the door slamming closed, followed by the lock turning. Beside him, Zhan Yao stumbled dizzily. Bai Yutang grabbed his shoulder to steady him and finally took in the room.
The walls were technically not red, but white with familiar red circles drawn everywhere in blood. Stylized eyes and arcane patterns crawled over all surfaces, including the ceiling and floor. There were no windows to provide relief, and the smell of rusty decay was impossible to ignore. Zhan Yao leaned heavily on him, growing pale. Bai Yutang opened his mouth, then realized there might be cameras here.
“Meditate. With your eyes closed. Tell me to look at the—”
Zhan Yao caught on mid-sentence. “Study the symbols, Bai Lei. Look at them carefully.” Then he allowed Bai Yutang to help him sit, folded his legs, and closed his eyes.
Bai Yutang watched him for a few seconds, worried about the strong reaction to the magic circles that had made him sick when encountered during a case last year. Zhan Yao went down with a fever at the time just from brief interactions with the circles at murder scenes. Who knew what would happen if he spent all night here?
After his study, Bai Yutang sat next to Zhan Yao, whose eyes were firmly shut. He had sweat at his hairline. “We should be clear of devices, Cat. Do you want me to bust us out?”
“No. We’ve come this far. Let’s wait and see what happens in the morning, when I reach third level.”
“I’m pretty sure they’re going to try to kill me, or get me to kill myself.”
“No, I’m pretty sure they’re going to have me order you to kill someone else. It gives them a degree of separation from the crime, but lets them flex their hypnosis skills to each other, and presumably to Zhao Jue, who they’re convinced is watching them.”
“That all fits with what we know about the crimes, but what about the people they hypnotize? What happens to them?”
Zhan Yao opened his eyes and looked pointedly at the bloody walls, then winced and squeezed his eyes shut. He had the look of a bad headache. Hopefully it didn’t turn into a migraine.
“Keep your eyes shut,” Bai Yutang said. “We have a long night ahead of us.” He rubbed his hand across Zhan Yao’s back in soothing circles and was gratified to feel Zhan Yao lean into the pressure. “Any idea why you’re affected but not me?”
“You’re not hypnotized. Being hypnotized would make you more susceptible to the power of the images. As for me, it’s likely that all the meditative work I’ve done over the past few weeks has amplified the effect.” His breath caught at the end of the sentence.
“Migraine?” Bai Yutang whispered.
“Hand drill,” Zhan Yao whispered back. As teenagers, they had created their own pain-level chart for Zhan Yao’s migraines, using construction tools as a shorthand. The hand drill was up there.
Bai Yutang push-guided Zhan Yao to lie down and rest his head on Bai Yutang’s thigh. He went willingly and curled up a little, the amazing yellow caftan mostly covering him. If he weren’t in pain he’d be damn cute.
“Feels good,” Zhan Yao murmured. Bai Yutang realized he’d started carding his fingers through his hair, gently as he ever did anything. Zhan Yao sighed and pretty soon began breathing evenly.
The thought floated up to Bai Yutang’s conscious mind as if it had been waiting years for just the right updraft. What if they could have this—minus the migraine and spooky cult and locked, blood-soaked room—for the rest of their lives? Just the two of them together, with soft touches and waking up together in bed and, well, other things he’d never let himself think of, like kissing and….
The thought got him a little riled, even here, so he put it away to ask Zhan Yao about later.
He had a lot to ask Zhan Yao about later.
Without a phone or a clock, it was a long night. He tried to keep time by how tired he got, but too many nights watching Zhan Yao on the video feed had messed up his internal clock. Eventually he did get tired, but since he was keeping watch, he stayed awake, which was why he heard it when the lock clicked. It had to be too early for the cult members to be back, and indeed, it was Feng Xi, alone, closing the door behind him as he entered. He was obviously here for no good, but for the sake of all Zhan Yao’s work here, Bai Yutang made the snap decision not to break character until he had to.
Feng Xi seemed taken aback by the position he found them in. But when he waved his hand in front of Bai Yutang’s eyes and he didn’t respond, he shrugged and knelt down by Zhan Yao.
“Zhan Ce, can you hear me?”
“Hurts,” Zhan Yao said, still mostly asleep.
“I know. The Room of Despair hurt all of us at first, but after the first night you’ll feel better.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small item that fit in his hand. It made a clicking sound when he squeezed it between his fingers. He squeezed it a few times in succession, eyes rapt on Zhan Yao’s face, and Bai Yutang was going to have to punch him any second now. Then Feng Xi spoke again. “My power lets me hypnotize people a little bit at a time, not all at once. It’s fortunate we share a room since it’s let me work on you in your sleep. With this last hypnosis session, you will finally love me!”
The absolute mortification on Zhan Yao’s face at that moment decided it. That was it, undercover operation be damned. Bai Yutang pulled Zhan Yao up to stand, supporting him when he wobbled.
“What the hell?” Feng Xi said, also rising. He snapped his fingers at the both of them, and Bai Yutang flung out his arm and struck a pressure point in his neck and didn’t catch him as he fell down unconscious.
“God, I hate this place,” Zhan Yao said, eyes squeezed shut and unstable on his feet. “Can we go now?”
Getting out was as simple as locking Feng Xi in the Room of Despair and taking the key with them as they climbed down the stairs, through the empty first floor, out onto the porch, and down to the sidewalk. Bai Yutang chucked the key into the weedy yard, which made Zhan Yao laugh.
Yeah, he was going to spend the rest of his life getting Zhan Yao to laugh just like that.
He helped him walk down the street until the surveillance van picked them up, then it was off to the hospital.
—
Bai Yutang sat alone at the kitchen table, contemplating four envelopes. Zhan Yao was in bed again, down with another headache. He’d spent two days under sedation, Bai Yutang catching up on his own sleep on a couch he’d had moved into Zhan Yao’s hospital room. With the discovery of that damned Room of Despair, painted in blood, the investigation had become a mopping-up exercise, with arrests followed by interrogations, followed by additional evidence being uncovered, and soon murder charges would be filed against all the cult members.
When Zhan Yao came up from sedation, it was still with headaches and balance issues, but he’d been allowed to go home under Bai Yutang’s supervision, along with strong medication that kept him asleep most of the day. Bai Yutang fed him light food and broth, snuck in some junk food just to see him smile, ran him hot baths, read to him in a soft voice that wouldn’t hurt his ears, lay cool wet cloths over his eyes and forehead when the headaches turned to migraines. Zhan Yao accepted his care with soft, unwonted appreciation, which made Bai Yutang suspect the pain was worse than he was letting on.
Then again, Zhan Yao had been acting strangely all week, pain aside. He’d toned down their usual bickering, evincing less annoyance than usual at Bai Yutang’s provocations. This left Bai Yutang with only sincerity to fall back on, which was really uncomfortable, but also intriguing. Especially when Zhan Yao responded in kind. They fell into a comfortable homebound life with each other, full of laughter, interesting conversations, and something indefinable that Bai Yutang attributed to Zhan Yao being on so much medication.
Another thing that had changed was Bai Yutang had moved out of Zhan Yao’s bed to the couch. At first, he didn’t want to disturb his sleep, with his headaches on a hair trigger. Zhan Yao had been too out of it to notice until their second day back, and had asked about it with the mildest curiosity that night as Bai Yutang set up blankets and pillows in his new, lonelier spot in the living room.
“You need space while you recover, Cat.”
“I mean, it’s a big bed. The couch is too small for you. You’ll start getting headaches too.”
It really was what he wanted, to curl up close to Zhan Yao. But the man was so out of it. If anything happened—and he had decided something needed to happen soon—he wanted all of Zhan Yao there with him.
“No, enjoy the extra space. I know I crowd you.” That wasn’t quite what he meant. He liked crowding Zhan Yao and suspected Zhan Yao liked it too. But it would be weird and very awkward to try to edit himself.
Zhan Yao opened his mouth without saying anything. After a second he nodded and went down the hall, leaving Bai Yutang with the feeling he’d messed up in a way he couldn’t understand. Lately he was beginning to see that no two people could be worse at this than him and his Cat.
With the envelopes spread out in front of him now on the kitchen table, Bai Yutang thought of that insight again and scowled. He could open each of the letters in order: the one he’d dried out with a hair dryer after their team fished them off that island; the one he’d kept clean and flat after Zhan Yao kicked ass in the cafe; the dirty, taped one that bastard who’d broken his rib and fucked up his trachea (and more importantly whose memory still could wake Zhan Yao in a cold sweat) had read and been so enraged over; the one with a hundred creases from Bai Yutang fiddling with it over long nights waiting for Zhan Yao to be done and come home.
He could open them and find out what Zhan Yao wanted to say. Maybe goodbye, but maybe….
He stuffed the letters into the paper bag where he’d been hiding them and tossed it across the kitchen, sighing heavily. Time for some calisthenics on the balcony.
As he went to grab his sweats, he saw the bedroom door click shut. Zhan Yao must have woken up. He hoped his headache was gone.
—
The end of the week brought better health for Zhan Yao, who celebrated by going out for long walks alone. He’d been withdrawn for a few days, more distant, but Bai Yutang remembered that he’d spent weeks interacting almost nonstop with six other people. Even if they hadn’t been murderers, he probably needed a lot of time to recharge by himself. So he gave him space, spent time in different rooms when they were both home, went to the office even though he was supposed to be on leave.
After Jiang Ling and Ma Han chased him out one day, he found himself in a cafe reading a football livefeed on his phone and drinking a milk tea, wishing he were out with Zhan Yao instead. Then, like a compass arm swinging to north, he turned his head to the window and saw Zhan Yao walking past. He was dressed casually, for him, and had his head down, hands in his pockets, deep in thought.
Bai Yutang stood. Maybe he wouldn’t mind a walking partner. And the envelopes that had been in his coat pocket all week were burning a hole.
He trailed Zhan Yao to the park where they had liaised while Zhan Yao was undercover. By the time he approached, Zhan Yao was slumped on their park bench, eyes on the clouds, arms stretched out across the seat back. He wore an air of dejection and wistfulness that made Bai Yutang want to sit very close and stroke his face. Maybe he should have been more attentive the past few days or moved back into the bedroom at least.
“Hey,” he said, sitting down so their knees touched. If he leaned back, Zhan Yao’s arm would be at his neck.
Apparently unsurprised to see him, Zhan Yao nodded a welcome. Bai Yutang leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and sat with him for a while.
“What are you thinking about, Cat?”
“Maybe buying a bigger place. There’d be more space for us then.”
“Oh,” Bai Yutang said, stomach sinking. Implicit in his words was the prospect of a second bedroom. But also the assumption that Bai Yutang would be living with him. More space for us. He was so confused, and it was quickly becoming dreadfully clear that this entire situation needed his vocal input. He turned to face him. “Look, Cat….”
“Yes?” Zhan Yao asked flatly. But his eyebrows were raised the way they always were when he had no idea what Bai Yutang would do next.
“You’d forgive me for anything, right? If I were wrong about something?”
His eyebrows rising higher, Zhan Yao said, “Of course.”
Bai Yutang leaned in and carefully pressed their lips together in a dry kiss. When Zhan Yao didn’t jerk away, he parted his lips with his tongue. Zhan Yao gripped his shoulders and pressed their mouths closer in what was easily the most gratifying sexual experience of Bai Yutang’s life.
Before they could get really busy on a public park bench, they parted for breath.
“You are so much work,” Zhan Yao finally said.
“Me? Who’s the one who keeps giving me sealed notes at the last minute?”
“Who’s the one who doesn’t even open them? And I let you into my bed over a year ago and you still haven’t made a single move.”
In light of how well Zhan Yao kissed, Bai Yutang had to admit he’d been a fool to wait this long. But also: “You could have made a move yourself.”
“That’s what inviting you into my bed was!”
Okay, he really had him.
Bai Yutang reached out and was gratified when Zhan Yao held his hand. “I’m an idiot.” With his other hand, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the envelopes. “But I’m not reading these.”
“Yeah, I guessed.” Clearly he was carrying some hurt over it. Had he taken it as a rejection?
“It’s because I want to hear it from you and not a letter.”
Zhan Yao turned that over silently. “Oh. Oh, yeah, I can do that.”
They kissed for a while, finally drawing apart flushed and happy. Bai Yutang couldn’t stop himself smiling, and Zhan Yao's cheeks had turned pink. He squeezed Zhan Yao’s neck and pulled out the lighter he’d bummed off Ma Han. “You know I was going to make a grand gesture?”
Zhan Yao looked from the lighter to the envelopes strewn at their feet, appalled. “By burning my love letters right in front of me?”
Bai Yutang froze, reexamined his plan and saw the flaw there. It was a very good thing he had Zhan Yao around to check him, especially when it came to courting Zhan Yao.
Suddenly Zhan Yao laughed. “Let’s do it. Light ‘em up.”
The envelopes caught fire easily and burned fast. Bai Yutang spotted delicate words that in moments were blackened out of existence. He looked up to see Zhan Yao contemplating the little pyre.
“What are you thinking, Cat?”
He laughed. “Just glad I get to stop writing these.”
End.