Chapter 53 Rui
Rui
Rui’s throat was painfully dry and her head full of cobwebs when she woke from what felt like an extremely long nap. She remembered
crossing Naihe Bridge but nothing else after.
Weird.
Unfolding her stiff limbs, she stretched out on the familiar-looking armchair. The well-worn leather was soft, molding to
her shape like she’d been curled up on it for some time. She was wearing a pajama top two sizes too big. It had blue and white
stripes and tiny hearts printed on it—something she was positive she would never put on herself.
This wasn’t Madam Meng’s tearoom in The Reverie. Where was she?
She blinked dully in the bright sunshine, finding herself in the parlor of an interesting shophouse instead. Light streamed
through the skywell above, and the glistening water in the stone fountain in the middle of the room gurgled happily. Wind
chimes tinkled, and a soothing scent of lemongrass incense and fresh coffee beans drifted in the air. There were stacks of
funeral paraphernalia on the bookshelves, a short flight of steps in the corner leading to the second level, and paintings
on the wall.
Rui flinched when she saw an illustration of a woman crawling out of a crab with her limbs bleeding. It reminded her too much
of the murals in the frightening underworld temple. Her heart raced. But she knew she had escaped and that she was back in the mortal realm.
She tensed. She wasn’t alone.
Someone was whistling.
Quietly, she drew a sword from her bag. The whistling grew louder, accompanied by the lazy sound of flip-flops slapping the
ground.
A lean, broad-shouldered boy with silvery-white streaks in his dark hair entered the parlor.
He was wearing a pair of pajamas pants that matched Rui’s shirt, a white tank top, and a black bat-winged cardigan that looked familiar.
Rings shone on his fingers, and there was a short silver chain with a plastic figurine of a cute cartoon ghost with pink dots on its cheeks dangling from his ear.
But it was the boy’s eyes that caught her attention. They were lovely, framed by dark lashes. His right iris was a beautiful
wintry blue, but his left had a large blot of black.
Giving her an overly friendly wink, he said, “The sleeping beauty is awake at last.”
Rui tightened her grip on her sword.
“You’ve been out like a light for the last two days. I guess the journey across the bridge was pretty taxing.” He laughed
to himself. “I’m still amazed that you made it through the Forest and the bridge in one piece—I guess you truly have been
touched by the light of stars and it gave you protection somehow.” When she said nothing, the boy teased, “Don’t worry, you
didn’t snore at all. I brought you back here from my grandmother’s—” He frowned briefly. “She’s not my grandmother anymore,
but you know . . .” He shrugged.
“No, I don’t know. That’s the problem,” Rui said sharply. Who was this inconveniently attractive boy? And why was he acting
like they knew each other well? Or worse, intimately?
The boy looked puzzled, making her more confused in turn. “I hope you’re hungry. I made breakfast. Buttered toast and eggs—over
easy, right? I got some berries too; antioxidants are good for human bodies. I should probably make a fresh cup of coffee.
You look like you need—”
“Stop talking, just stop!” Fully exasperated, Rui got to her feet. The boy’s endless prattling, the fact that she was wearing his clothes, the presumptuous way he was speaking to her . . . It all implied a domesticity between them that was baffling.
Looking concerned, the boy came right up to her. Something fluttered in her chest. He had a very nice face. Pity she wanted
to smack it.
“You seem okay, but are you actually feeling okay, Rooroo?”
“Rooroo?” she spluttered, immediately flicking her sword to his neck.
To her surprise, the boy smirked. “You’re giving literal meaning to the phrase she woke up and chose violence.”
He laughed as if he’d said something witty. And he didn’t seem to care that Rui had a blade to his throat, or that she could
inflict a grievous injury on him with a mere turn of her wrist. In fact, she could’ve sworn he was enjoying this. The boy
was grinning at her like a fool—no, not a fool.
He was staring at her like he was in love. With her.
Rui pressed her blade harder against his neck. A little more, and she would draw blood. “You have two seconds to tell me who
you are and what’s going on.”
The boy went still, his eyes slowly widening with comprehension. A stream of curses erupted from him. Something about trickster
gods, a mahjong game, how he should have known . . .
Rui didn’t understand a word of it. From his curse-filled rant, it seemed as though he had been in the underworld with her
too.
But why couldn’t she remember him?
She thought she remembered her journey in the underworld well. She remembered Nikai the Reaper, the Guardians, the strange forest and
how it had tried to trick her into staying by pretending to be her dead mother. She even remembered the room with all the
mirrors, the memory of her past life as Lei Ying and how she had died. But when Rui concentrated, she sensed gaps in her memories. She couldn’t remember anything about the Fourth King,
and she was certain she had gone to his Court. And she definitely had no recollection of the boy in front of her.
He had stopped swearing, and they locked eyes. His expression unmoored her, and his voice trembled when he spoke. “You don’t
know who I am, do you? You’ve forgotten me.”
Rui didn’t know why, but she was suddenly on the verge of tears too. There was an absence in her heart she couldn’t describe. A loss so infinite that it would have been unbearably painful if she actually knew what it was.
Her fingers loosened, and her sword fell to the floor with a clang.
The beautiful stranger standing in front of her wasn’t an enemy. He was nobody.
“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t remember you at all.”