Chapter 27 Rui #2
He clapped Yiran on the back. The boy looked stupefied by the small show of affection, if one could even call it that.
After the meal ended, fresh fruit and tea were laid out in the living room. Ash excused himself, and Song Wei switched his
attention to Rui again.
“Tell me how you killed that Revenant. I want to hear it straight from the source.”
Rui heard a change in his tone. He wasn’t curious; he was investigative. She recounted the events of the night the way she
and Yiran had agreed to do.
“Interesting,” Song Wei remarked after Rui was done. There was a discomforting parallel between the way he and Ten used that
word. “I sense your qi levels fluctuating. How is your recovery?”
“Going well,” she lied. Song Wei didn’t have skill in healing, did he? She hoped he wasn’t sensing anything that might reveal
her secret. “It’s taking a little longer than I’d like, but it is what it is.”
“Considering how badly you were injured, the one who tended to you must have some skill when it comes to the healing arts,”
Song Wei remarked. “Lan Xi mentioned he’s been trying to recruit this person, this Zizi.”
Rui caught a faint sneer on Yiran’s face at the mention of the mage. She was surprised herself. Did the Guild not care that
Zizi belonged to the underground magic community? The Revenant situation had to be bad enough for the Guild to overlook it.
Or maybe Ash had concealed Zizi’s allegiance from his grandfather.
“I’m not sure if Ash told you I’m top of my cohort, sir,” Rui said as she refilled Song Wei’s teacup for him. She ignored the wave of confusion coming from
Yiran over the way she was cozying up to his grandfather. “It’s been my dream to beat Ash’s record. I want to be the youngest
Exorcist ever to make Captain.”
Song Wei nodded his approval. “Ambition in young people is a laudable trait.”
“Thank you, sir.” He seemed to like her enough. Time to wrangle access to the Guild, however limited. “Coincidentally, I was
at the Guild this morning doing research for my term paper. It’s absolutely fascinating how much detail goes into incident
reports, I learned so much in the two hours I was there. Have you considered an internship or residence program where top
cadets could shadow Exorcists at the headquarters or on the field? It seems like it’ll be an invaluable experience.” She smiled
earnestly. “I’ll volunteer to be part of such a pilot program, should you decide to implement it, sir.”
“The cadets already participate in patrols,” Song Wei said, but he seemed interested in what she had to say.
“But the routes are limited, and we don’t get to see much action.”
“Is that what this is about? Have some patience, eager cadet. Your time in this fight will come.”
“Yes, sir.” Rui concealed her disappointment with a humble smile. Song Wei’s gruff tone implied it was the end of that conversation.
She would have to find another way in.
“I have some business to discuss with Lan Xi,” said Song Wei. “The both of you should head back to the dormitories before
the curfew.”
Yiran stood immediately. “Yes, Zufu.”
Rui followed his cue. “Thank you for inviting me over tonight, sir.”
Song Wei dismissed them with a nod.
In the hallway, Yiran tugged on Rui’s sleeve. “This way.”
“But the front door’s the other way.”
“I left my car keys in my room.”
“Ooh, I’m excited to see Song er shaoye’s humble abode.”
Yiran rolled his eyes.
Several turns later, Rui said, “Shouldn’t we be going to the eastern wing?”
“That’s where Ash’s room is. I sleep here.”
The western side of the house was by all appearances as grand and well-furnished as the rest of the mansion. Except they both
knew the implication of sleeping here instead of in the eastern side of the house together with Ash. The west wing of a siheyuan
was traditionally reserved for family members lower in the hierarchy. Yiran’s expression hadn’t changed, but Rui could tell
Song Wei’s snub cut deep.
Yiran yanked off his sweater-vest violently and threw himself onto the king-sized bed.
His room was tidier than expected. Probably because he had a small army of servants. Books were shelved in alphabetical order
with smooth, untouched spines. Freshly laundered clothes sat in neat little piles on the dresser, ready to be put away into
what Rui assumed was a ginormous walk-in closet next to the bathroom.
The place was filled with all the material possessions and tech gadgets anyone would want. But what Yiran needed was something
intangible. This entire evening was a too-intimate look into what was lacking in his life.
Yiran’s eyes were closed. Despite the impending curfew, he seemed in no hurry to get back to campus.
Rui rocked on the balls of her feet, considering her conversation options before settling on the most pertinent one.
“Your grandfather’s kind of a jerk to you.”
A glower bloomed on Yiran’s face, only to wilt into a look of resignation. “That obvious, huh?”
She nodded. “You’re a different person when you’re here.”
“What are you, my therapist?”
“It’s not like I want to feel what you’re feeling,” Rui said, frustrated. “It’s that silly link we have.”
It was the first time she had acknowledged the connection in front of him. Instead of denying it, Yiran shrugged, confirmation that he felt it too.
He punched a pillow. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t get it.”
“Help me get it.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because we’re friends,” Rui replied without thinking. And they were. She was upset about what had happened between them,
bitter that he’d found his footing in a space she cherished as hers. But none of this was his fault.
Yiran’s throat worked, but he didn’t speak, and he wouldn’t look at her.
Rui leaned against the desk, surprised to find a stack of newspapers piled up in the corner. She’d assumed Yiran got his news
the same way she did—digitally. She flipped through the paper on top.
“What the . . .” Rui took a hard look at the photograph of a man under a report about a string of mysterious deaths in the
city. “Look at this.” She shoved the newspaper in front of Yiran’s face. “This man—isn’t he the one who tried to pick a fight
with you outside the karaoke club?”
“Looks like the same jackass.”
“He’s dead.”
Yiran sat up. “He’s dead?”
Rui scanned the report. “He died the same night we saw him.”
“Coincidence. Maybe he drank too much.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. They don’t know what killed him or the others. Do you remember the woman he left with? There was something
off about her. I felt it. Something like . . .”
Rui stared at the wall.
She remembered the feeling now.
“A Hybrid,” she whispered. “That woman . . . she must’ve killed him.”
“That’s nonsense. Listen to yourself, Darcy. You can’t look at a person and think they’re a murderer based on some feeling.” Yiran scoffed. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Hybrids don’t exist.”
“My mother was killed by one, and he—it—it almost killed me.”
A shudder went through Rui in the quiet that followed. She felt Yiran’s shock, then his denial.
“There’s no evidence that Hybrids exist,” he finally said.
“I know what I saw,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Fine. Hypothetically speaking, if they’re real, what exactly are they?”
“Revenants with human traits. They look like us, talk like us, and some theorize they retain all their consciousness and reason.
But because of changes in their spiritual energy, they possess the hunger of a Revenant. Which means they’re attracted to
yangqi, and they attack humans too.”
“But the Blight is a supernatural virus, isn’t it?” Yiran said. “It only infects spirits and those sorts of things.”
“Viruses evolve,” Rui pointed out. “The Blight isn’t something you can study in normie biology class. You say there’s no evidence
that Hybrids exist, but there’s no concrete evidence that the Blight can’t infect humans either.”
“I still think you’re jumping to—” A loud sound came from the closet. Yiran jerked toward it. “Did you hear—”
Rui silenced him with a finger, drawing a sword from her bag. She might not have magic, but she knew twenty-seven different
ways to maim a person.
Yiran grabbed a tennis racket and nudged the door open.
The walk-in wardrobe was a mess of clothes. Rui spotted a limited-edition trainer missing its mate, some sparkly jewelry,
a designer bag, an expensive watch in a case, and a bottle of red wine.
Amid the piles of stuff, something moved.
Raising her sword, she gave Yiran a nod.
He swung his racket back.
Now, she mouthed.
But their arms halted in midair.
A sleepy-faced boy was crawling out of the mess. His dark hair was disheveled, and he was wearing a wrinkled T-shirt and a
long, scruffy coat.
“Rui?” Zizi asked, his pale blue eyes blinking in confusion. “Where am I?”