Chapter 58 Rui
Rui
In more normal circumstances, Rui might’ve laughed at the look of utter confusion on Matthias Lin’s face when he saw his daughter
standing along the highway in the dark with two random boys—one twirling his long black coat dramatically as he gave instructions
to the other, whose fingers were sparking with crimson electricity. But things felt so dire that she couldn’t find humor in
the situation.
Hurriedly, she shoved Zizi and Yiran into the back seat and climbed in herself with only two words as a greeting. “Drive.
Quick.”
To his credit, her father didn’t ask any questions.
Once they were in the car, the boys were on their best behavior. Her father had already met Yiran, so that wasn’t an issue.
Zizi, on the other hand . . . The trio had agreed to keep his real identity and Rui’s descent into the underworld a secret, so
she concocted a vague explanation for his presence and filled her father in about the Hybrids and their plans. When Yiran
dropped the bombshell news about Song Liming, the car swung sharply to the left, tires screeching until Matthias regained
control of the wheel.
“Liming was always ambitious,” he said. “But what he’s done, what he’s been doing . . .” Matthias shook his head, looking
distraught. “If I could just speak to him . . .”
Rui couldn’t imagine how her father must feel, knowing that his old friend had lost his way in such a devastating manner.
“He won’t listen,” Yiran said. “You haven’t seen the way he speaks about his revolution. He was even willing to kill my grandfather.
There’s no turning back from that.”
Yiran’s face was pallid, his eyes sunken and haunted, and he looked younger than his years as he huddled in the back seat.
Rui was reminded of the expression Burning Flame had in her memories.
The Emperor-to-be had felt abandoned, and it resulted in a series of decisions that brought devastation to his nation and people.
It’s different this time. You pulled him back from the brink, you showed him he’s not alone. She couldn’t save everyone in the world, but she had chosen to save him.
After they arrived at the apartment, her father and Yiran settled in the living room. It felt like they were having a private
conversation, and Rui didn’t want to intrude. Instead, she joined Zizi, who was making himself at home in the kitchen.
“What are you up to?” she asked, poking him in the ribs in a joking manner. She retracted her hand immediately, suddenly embarrassed,
uncertain why she’d reached out. It had seemed like a natural thing to do.
Zizi startled from the momentary physical contact, almost dropping his knife. The tips of his ears reddened as he angled his
body to show her his efforts. “What do you think?”
Rui smiled when she saw what was on his chopping board. He’d cut an apple into slices that resembled bunny rabbits with little
ears and all.
“Cute. I’m impressed by your knife skills.” She popped an apple bunny into her mouth. The fruit was sweet and juicy. She couldn’t
remember the last time she’d eaten a proper meal. Was it back at Zizi’s shophouse?
Instead of looking pleased, he seemed mystified. “Did you just compliment me?”
“Mm-hmm.” She grabbed another piece.
“Huh. Normally, you’d say—” He caught himself and shook his head. “Never mind.”
Rui stopped mid-chomp. “Was I horrible to you before?” she said, finding herself upset by the thought.
“Not at all. You hungry?” Zizi seemed to want to change the topic. “Unfortunately, the fridge isn’t stocked.” He lowered his
voice, keeping an eye toward the living room. “And your dad only has store-brand instant coffee. How can someone live like this? I’ll order groceries in a bit, and a coffee
machine and good beans for him.”
Rui stared at the strange boy-god. At the silver streaking his dark hair, the darkness in the pale blue of his iris, the way his jaw and throat worked when he spoke, and how deftly his pianist fingers moved to carve another piece of apple into a delicious bunny.
Words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “I listened to that song again—the one you played for me the other
day. I like it. It’s catchy.”
The sharp jaw she’d been admiring clenched, and she felt a wall spring up between them.
“I’m not sure what you’re trying to say or do,” he said, “but whatever happened between us happened in the past. That’s all.”
Rui stammered, “I—I thought—”
“Think nothing. Remember nothing.”
The edge in Zizi’s voice was so sharp, she was at a loss for words. Touched by how thoughtful he was about her father, she’d
felt the sudden urge to connect with him, to get to know him and to remember what they supposedly shared. But her clumsy attempt
obviously upset him, and she couldn’t understand why.
Yiran entered the kitchen, blithely unaware of the newly formed tension. “Rui? Your dad’s telling us to rest. He’ll put the
spare mattress in the bedroom for you. Wizard and I get to fight over the couch—am I interrupting something again?” When neither
Rui nor Zizi responded, he pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing, “I interrupted something again.”
Zizi said curtly, “I’m going out for some air. Don’t wait up.”
Shoulders stiff, he left the kitchen without another word.
Rui grabbed the knife he’d left behind, and she began chopping the last apple with more force than necessary. Why was she
so affected by how Zizi had brushed her off? She couldn’t remember anything about their relationship; it wasn’t rational to
feel this upset.
“You okay?” Yiran said.
“Yes,” she said, giving the apple another smash.
Yiran looked skeptical. “I don’t know how the memory-loss thing works, but if it helps, he once told me that you mean—and I quote—everything to him.”
The knife shook in her hand. “Why did you have to tell me that?”
“I thought it would help. Crap, I made it worse, didn’t I?” Yiran rubbed the back of his neck, groaning. “I’m sorry—I’m not
good at this, but I can listen.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Rui exhaled slowly, forcing herself to let her emotions go. There were more important things
in this world to worry about than whatever was happening with her non-relationship with Zizi.
“I’m sorry for that night too,” Yiran said.
“What night?”
“At the hospital.” He gestured awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have said all those things. None of what happened was your fault. Meeting
you was a turning point in my life—a good one. And even though everything’s a mess now, I’m glad it happened. So here I am,
apologizing for being a selfish, pathetic asshole. Short and sweet.” He made a funny face. “I’ll even eat a hundred tubs of
mint-chocolate ice cream if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me.”
Despite everything, Rui laughed.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” Yiran said humbly and hopefully.
“You know, I don’t think I was ever truly mad at you.” She’d been envious once of who she thought Song er shaoye was and what he stood for, but that stemmed from her own insecurity and desire to be the best. It had nothing to do with
the boy next to her. Even Song er shaoye had been a construct; it seemed as though Yiran had finally chosen to be himself.
“There’s something else.” Yiran dug his hands into his pockets, mumbling slightly.
“At the start, I was trying to befriend you so you’d let your guard down with me.
I—” He swallowed hard, finally looking her in the eye.
“I was looking for a way to keep your spiritual energy because it allowed me to do magic. I thought I could steal your weapons, refashion them somehow to suit myself. Not only was that stupid, but it was also wrong. I wanted to come clean with you.”
Rui stared. “That’s morally repugnant.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Despicable and vile.” He nodded again, and she said, “It’s the worst thing that a human can ever do.” Yiran’s eyebrows knitted,
but he nodded yet again. “You’ll have to eat two hundred tubs of mint-chocolate ice cream if you want my forgiveness.”
“I can do five hundred if I need to,” he declared.
“Then we have a deal.” Solemnly, Rui punched his arm to seal it.
“I miss that link we had sometimes.” He sounded wistful.
“I hate to say it, but I do too.” She placed the apple slices onto a plate and turned on the tap to do the dishes.
“Weird, isn’t it? How things are connected. You, me, the past . . . our fathers,” Yiran said in a voice so low she could barely
hear him above the running water.
He’d turned his face away. She let the tap run, the sound of water hiding his sniffling.
“Why do you think my grandfather did it?”
The break in his voice wrenched her heart, and Rui slipped her arm around him. “I’ve been thinking about that too,” she said
softly. “Why would Song Wei tie the block to his own spirit core and endure the consequences of it draining his life force?
I think he did it to protect you in his own way, the only way he thought he could, because he knew what the Guild would do
if they found out you were an Amplifier.”
“You think so?”
“I do,” she said, holding him tight. “Your grandfather must have suffered with you because he didn’t want you to suffer alone.”
She felt a tremor go through him as Yiran whispered, “Thank you.”