Chapter 49 Yiran
Yiran
Yiran didn’t know why his father had driven them to the entertainment district in the city. It was still hours until dusk,
and the pubs and clubs were shut. He got out of the car, frowning at the karaoke lounge across the street from where they
had parked. Surely, Song Liming wasn’t planning on celebrating their family reunion with a father-and-son duet?
His father walked in the opposite direction. As Yiran followed, a small voice of doubt whispered in his ear. What in the world are you doing?
Was he joining the Hybrids?
You’re here because he can help you, Yiran told himself, pushing his uncertainties aside. His father was the only one in his family who had been honest with
him. The only one who cared about his condition. Still, when he’d mentioned the forbidden technique L had told him about,
his father had been cryptic.
“Patience,” his father had said. “I have a theory I’m exploring.”
It was, frankly, annoying. Yiran wasn’t a theory or a test case, he was a living, breathing human being. But if his father could fix him, then patience it was.
His father stopped outside a seedy-looking dive bar. The sign on the door said it was closed, but his father knocked on it
in an irregular pattern. A code?
The door creaked open, and his father walked in.
All eyes went to him the moment Yiran entered.
Fear was his natural reaction when he saw that the eyes belonged to Hybrids. But school had taught Yiran that weakness could
be detected easily. He squared his shoulders, casting a nonchalant glance around the room as if he belonged here.
Maybe the old adage was true: the safest place to hide was in plain sight.
Compared to the original Revenants, the yinqi of a Hybrid was more difficult to sense.
What better place to take cover than among the spiritual energy of normies.
Yiran came to another realization as he remembered his encounter with the drunk bigot from the karaoke bar.
The man had left with a mysterious woman whom Rui later accused of being a Hybrid.
On the weekends when there wasn’t a full moon or a curfew, the clubs and bars here were often full of inebriated people. Ripe hunting grounds for a Hybrid.
There were three of them in front of him. A burly man who looked like he had a mean punch was polishing some glasses by the
bar while two women lounged around a table. They had been around that day at the assembly hall. He recognized Green Jacket;
she had a striking air about her.
The fourth Hybrid, the one who’d opened the door for them, said, “Didn’t know we were getting a visitor today, boss.” He snatched
a palm-sized device from the ledge and waved it across Yiran before putting it back down.
Yiran glanced at his father, but Song Liming made no move to explain. His manner had changed, as if a switch had been flipped.
He was a rebel leader with an agenda to accomplish.
“This is Yiran,” he said, removing his coat and hanging it on the rack.
It seemed like all the introduction Yiran was getting. He supposed it was obvious how they were related.
“Where’s Liu?” his father asked.
“Downstairs,” Green Jacket replied, gesturing at the trapdoor.
Yiran heard sounds coming from the basement below. His father and the Hybrid who’d scanned him disappeared down the ladder.
The burly guy at the bar came forward, sticking out a meaty hand. “Name’s Henry. I’ve heard a lot about you from the boss.”
“All good, I hope,” Yiran said, wondering if Henry was only making pleasantries or if his father had a habit of talking about sons he’d only recently acknowledged.
Yiran shook Henry’s hand, trying not to wince from the man’s tight grip.
He didn’t sense that Henry meant to intimidate; he was merely strong.
He seemed the friendly sort, which in Yiran’s experience, was rare for a Hybrid.
Green Jacket was assessing him.
You’re prey to her. Recognizing the need to assert himself before he appeared vulnerable, he stared back, hardening his jaw.
“I see the resemblance,” she remarked.
“To my father?”
Green Jacket’s lips curled enigmatically.
Her companion wrinkled her nose. “He smells different.”
Yiran sensed she wasn’t talking about odor. She was a Hybrid, her sense of smell honed to pick out spiritual energy. What
was it about his scent that warranted that remark?
“Different as in more delicious?” he joked, testing his boundaries.
The Hybrid raised her overplucked brows. “Nope.”
“Different can be interesting,” Green Jacket purred. “Who doesn’t like something more exotic sometimes.” She ran a tongue
over her teeth.
“You’re making him uncomfortable, Celeste,” Henry chided good-naturedly.
Celeste made a sucking sound through her teeth, but she didn’t retort.
For want of something to do, Yiran picked up the device the other Hybrid had left on the ledge. Shaped like a small battery
pack, it reminded Yiran of the kind of equipment the Guild designed.
“That little gem in your hand takes everything offline, and I mean everything,” Henry told him. “All those qi sensors the
Exorcists placed around the city? We’ve been able to disable their older models. It’s only a matter of time before the new
ones are useless against us too.”
“Why did he use it on me?” Yiran asked, putting the device down.
Henry grinned. “Our engineer embedded a new function recently that allows us to sniff out certain tracking devices implanted
into the flesh. Can’t be too safe.”
The Hybrids used technology to their benefit. They had engineers and combat teams, and they recruited new members regularly. It sounded so familiar.
What and whom the Guild created will ultimately destroy it.
His father had built a well-oiled machine modeled after what he knew best.
“Turned out to be a good thing,” Henry went on. “Just the other day, we used it on a—”
“You’re talking too much, Henry,” Celeste said abrasively. “You barely know the boy—don’t forget what he did.”
“Not that again,” Henry said, shaking his head. “He’s with us now, and he’s the boss’s son. Give it a rest.”
“Give it a rest?” Celeste spat. “They were my friends, Henry. And they were my friends before the boss came along.”
She shot a venomous look at Yiran. He could feel the heat of her animosity, but he wasn’t sure why he was her target. Who
were the friends she was talking about? She stomped out the back door and slammed it shut.
“Don’t mind her,” Henry said, placing a bottle of cider on the counter. “Have a drink.”
Yiran popped the cap and slid onto a barstool. “So . . . you just hang out here?”
Before Henry could answer, the trapdoor opened, and Yuki’s head poked out. Ignoring everyone else, he went to Yiran. “Let’s
go.”
Nodding goodbye to Henry, Yiran took his cider and followed.
“Made any friends?” Yuki said wryly, after the door had shut behind them.
“Henry seems nice,” Yiran said, jogging to keep up. Yuki was speed walking away from the bar for some reason.
“He’s a yapper, but your father likes him. Trusts him, I guess. Henry’s a true loyalist.”
“Doesn’t my father trust you too?”
“He has plans for me” was all Yuki said.
“I think Celeste hates me.” Yiran didn’t care about her opinion, but he did want to know the reason.
“Like it or not, you were partly responsible for Ling’s and Felix’s deaths,” Yuki explained. “They were popular, and Cel’s good friends. The three
of them were looking out for each other on the streets before your father found them. Cel’s efficient, competent, but she’s
an agitator.”
Ling and Felix. The Hybrids who had killed Eddy and who were, in turn, killed by Ada and Yiran. It was a never-ending cycle
of violence with no resolution in sight.
“Also,” Yuki continued, “she isn’t happy about Feng either. Apparently, he was sacrificed in some kind of arrangement so your
father could have that talisman. It was part of the so-called grand plan. Feng was a nasty jerk, but even if Cel believes
in the cause, I don’t think she’s forgiven your father for resorting to that. Just because we’re Hybrids, it doesn’t mean
our lives are worthless.”
“You said we when you referred to the Hybrids this time,” Yiran observed.
Yuki side-eyed him. “At the end of the day, I am a Hybrid. Nothing changes that. Bottom line is, your father isn’t, and sometimes, whether he means to or not, he does and says things that make it obvious.
He doesn’t feel the hunger or truly understand what we go through.
He can talk about forming a new world order where we reign
supreme, but deep down, I don’t think he gets it.”
Yiran was surprised by Yuki’s bluntness. “What do you believe in?”
“Surviving.” Yuki slowed his pace, stretching indulgently. “In case you haven’t realized, you’re hanging out with me tonight
while Daddy Dearest works on his plans,” he said, sounding more like his teasing self.
Yiran didn’t like how his father mirrored his grandfather’s surveillance behavior, but he felt guilty for being a jerk to
Yuki earlier. Hybrid or not, he’d been there for Yiran in his own way, and if they were going to be in each other’s orbit
for a while, it made sense to be at least cordial.
“I suppose I could do worse for a babysitter,” he said, nudging Yuki playfully. “Let’s do a movie marathon.”
A smile spread across Yuki’s face like sunlight spilling through storm clouds, and Yiran knew that, undeserving as he was,
he’d already been forgiven. That he was accepted, flaws and all.
We’ll pretend we’re two ordinary teenagers.
Impulsively, he slipped an arm around Yuki’s, ignoring the Hybrid’s surprise. He didn’t know exactly where he stood with his
father or what would happen the next day. Or if this—whatever was happening between him and Yuki—was ever meant to last.
But just for a few hours, he would pretend.