Chapter 12 Yiran
Yiran
The prayer halls and columbarium niches were quiet. Yiran timed his visits to the temple on weekdays when there weren’t as
many devotees. He stared at the metal plaque with a photograph of a smiling young man. He could never think of anything meaningful
to say when he came here. He had only known Eddy for a day. But it was a day that had changed everything.
Sighing, he stuck the joss sticks into the incense pot and gave a curt nod to Eddy’s plaque. “See you next week, friend.”
He was barely out of the temple grounds when a long-limbed figure stepped out from the line of trees along the path.
Yuki. He was holding a paper cup with an oversized straw stuck in it and was underdressed for the weather as usual: light jacket,
no gloves or scarf, and a bare head. His hair had grown longer, just grazing his collarbones, and for a split second, Yiran
had a bad desire to run his fingers through it.
What’s wrong with you? Yiran scolded himself. He wasn’t used to feeling such a strong physical pull toward anyone, and he wasn’t sure how to handle
it.
Batting his lashes, Yuki cooed, “Someone’s been ignoring my calls.”
“What are you doing here?” Yiran said, glancing around nervously.
Yuki blinked like an innocent maiden. “Nothing much. Been chilling, shopping . . .” His smile turned mischievous. “Hunting
humans.”
Yiran didn’t know how serious Yuki was about the last thing.
Even though Yuki claimed he had some control over his hunger for yangqi, allowing him to roam the streets freely without getting tempted by people around him, the Hybrid still had to find a way to sustain himself now and then.
But Yiran didn’t want to think about that.
Instead, he found himself taking in the close fit of Yuki’s jeans and the drape of his silky shirt across his narrow waist.
Stop staring, you imbecile. Annoyed with himself, Yiran snapped, “How did you find me?”
“You weren’t at school today, but everyone else was. I figured you probably ditched your classes and your little princely
posse, which means you could’ve gone to the gaming café. But if you went to game, Theo would’ve gone with you. Plus, it’s
a weekday, and you only come to the temple on weekdays, so here I am.” Yuki tapped his head proudly. “The power of deduction.”
It was creepy how he knew Yiran’s habits so well, and even creepier that Yiran found it mildly flattering.
Yuki placed the cup in Yiran’s hand. “Winter melon tea with bubbles and nata jelly. Careful, it’s hot.”
Their fingers brushed, cold against warm. Despite the heat from the cup, a delicious shiver skated across Yiran’s skin.
Yuki’s brow furrowed as Yiran stood stiffly. “I got it right, didn’t I? You said this is your favorite drink in cold weather,
and it’s freezing today.”
It was suddenly hard to look Yuki in the eye. Low temperatures didn’t affect Hybrids, so Yuki would’ve had to take the extra
step of checking the weather today. And Yiran hadn’t expected him to remember such a small detail. Heck, Yiran didn’t even
remember telling Yuki about his taste in bubble tea.
He’s only doing this because he wants something from you. Though Yiran wasn’t quite sure what that something was yet.
“You got it right,” he finally said.
Looking pleased, Yuki cocked his head. “Does Eddy’s family know it was you who secured the columbarium spot so Eddy could
rest with his father?”
“Of course not.”
“Let me guess, they don’t know it was you who sent in that generous donation at the funeral wake either.”
Yiran didn’t reply.
“Aww, look at you, carrying out such noble deeds without asking to be recognized. The kind and honorable Song er shaoye.”
Yiran walked away. The thing about Yuki was that there was a double meaning in everything he said. Sure, the Hybrid had a
sharp tongue, but his words didn’t always match what he really thought or felt. It was up to Yiran to read between the lines.
Yuki skipped lightly to get in step with him. He suddenly stuck out a hand toward Yiran’s groin.
Yiran recoiled. “What the heck are you—”
“Relax,” Yuki replied, retracting his hand. “Do it yourself, then.”
Yiran looked down. Something metallic was about to fall out of the front pocket of his jeans.
Tesha’s glove.
She’d made it for him to help control his spiritual energy whenever he tried to cast a spell. Even though he couldn’t use
it anymore, he still carried it around like a weird security blanket.
“I don’t recall us arranging to meet,” Yiran said, trying not to sound flustered as he pushed the glove deeper into his pocket.
“I can’t hang out today—or any other day. We’ve played this game for long enough. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m done.”
“And here I was, thinking you enjoyed our little dates,” Yuki teased.
“I don’t,” Yiran lied.
Hurt flashed in Yuki’s eyes. And it made Yiran feel worse. Did Yuki really think of their outings as dates? Despite Yuki’s constant flirting, there’d been nothing physically romantic about their relationship, not after that lone
kiss on the dormitory rooftop. Yuki had kept his vow—and his lips—to himself.
“How about this? Come with me to the Winter Market,” Yuki proposed.
“We’ll eat, watch a midnight movie, go to a club, whatever—I don’t care.
We’ll pretend we’re two ordinary teenagers doing whatever it is teenagers do, and then I’ll tell you what you want to know.
We can part ways at sunrise. Forget about each other and move on.
” He paused, as if genuinely surprised by what he’d just said.
“Wow, that makes it sound like a breakup, doesn’t it? ”
Yiran ignored the sudden awkwardness between them. “You said you’d tell me what I want to know the first time we met, but
you didn’t. Why should I trust you now?”
“It’s not like we ever trusted each other,” Yuki said, his smile looking almost sad. “But I mean what I’m saying now. I’ll
tell you what I heard.”
“What you heard?”
“The others don’t notice me much when I’m around. Sometimes I hear things. It’s not that I’m eavesdropping; it’s because I
don’t matter to them. I’m different—I don’t feed the same way they do, and I can’t fight very well. They value strength, and
to them, I’m a weak link.”
There was a pinch in Yiran’s chest. Yuki’s blunt assessment of himself felt too familiar. Aloysius, the Hybrid that Rui had
killed on the highway, had been so contemptuous of him, acting like Yuki was an insignificant pest.
“So?” Yuki placed his hand on Yiran’s cheek, fingers grazing the scar he had left. A mark Yiran had to acknowledge every time
he looked into the mirror. “Will you pretend for me?”
Yuki was trouble—fatal trouble. But Yiran couldn’t help himself. He sighed, cursing his own weakness. “Let’s go, then.”
The food at the Winter Market was better than Yiran remembered. After stuffing their faces, he and Yuki wandered aimlessly
through the city until Yuki got bored and insisted on crossing the river to a neighborhood on the west side.
Yiran had called in a favor from Theo, who promptly agreed to be his alibi for tonight.
An impromptu slumber party with a bunch of other gamers wasn’t anything unusual, so he didn’t expect his grandfather to kick up a fuss over his absence from home.
He raised a dubious eyebrow at his surroundings as they emerged from the subway station.
He wasn’t familiar with this neighborhood.
Blocks upon blocks of apartment buildings squeezed next to each other with few open or green spaces. It was claustrophobic,
as if someone was trying to wall people in. Yiran supposed that someone was the city government trying to squeeze all the
affordable housing in one place to make efficient use of the land when, in reality, it was all about protecting the property values in the glitzier districts.
They got into a creaky elevator at one of the apartment blocks, and Yuki hit the topmost button. They had to take the remaining
flights of stairs to the rooftop, where a locked metal door stood in their way.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Yiran said, his voice echoing in the musty stairwell.
Yuki rolled his eyes as he took a bobby pin from his hair and twisted it with his fingers and teeth. “For a juvenile delinquent,
you can be awfully straitlaced sometimes. Relax, it’s not my first time picking locks.”
“It’s not?”
“I wasn’t born in the lap of luxury like you, Song er shaoye,” Yuki said, his tone suddenly biting.
Yiran didn’t understand Yuki’s change in attitude. He’d laughed with more abandon than usual all night, but something changed
once they’d arrived here.
“I did what I had to do to survive on these streets,” Yuki went on, glaring at the padlock. “You need to nurture skills, and
being clever with your hands is always useful. Besides, breaking and entering isn’t the most unsavory thing I’ve done.”
“But I thought—”
Yuki cut him off with a dramatic flourish. “I’m full of marvelous tales, stories punctured with holes. Fill them up as you
wish. What’s true and what isn’t?” He paused briefly, a dark look crossing his features. “Choose the one that eases your conscience.”
Yiran didn’t know how to respond. Yuki had painted a portrait of a young man who’d had a loving family and a comfortable life.
Someone who’d just graduated high school and had experienced a stroke of bad luck when the Blight infected him. Someone who
had gone on to join the Hybrid pack because he had no other choice. Now Yiran wondered about all the things Yuki had shared
about his human family, about the young sister whom he’d doted on—were they all lies?
Told you he couldn’t be trusted. Yiran wanted to leave. That would be the rational action to take. Yet his feet stayed in place, bound by a baseless feeling
that somehow, despite everything, he knew Yuki.
The Hybrid had gone back to work on the huge padlock. His hair fell over his eyes, covering half his face as he fiddled with