Chapter 31 Rui
Rui
The hotel was a labyrinth, and Rui found herself wandering in circles. Mao chittered in her arms.
“Can you find him then?”
Mao swished her tail.
Rui set her down, and the cat trotted along the next corridor. They passed a statue of a fair maiden holding a pomegranate.
The sculpture was carved in fine marble. It was so lifelike Rui could almost feel the fear in the maiden’s eyes as she tried
to escape from the man-beast holding her in his muscular arms.
Mao stopped outside a set of arched doors with brass knockers in the shape of a lion’s head.
“Is he in there?”
Mao slow-blinked.
Rui pushed the doors open, gasping at the sight in front of her.
The indigo ceiling was domed with silver constellations, and floor-to-ceiling bookcases spiraled from the sides to the middle
of the room. Light reflected from stained glass windows, casting myriad colors against the walls and floors. A library with
a maze of books? Who would have thought?
Entranced, she twirled between the bookshelves, suddenly giddy. The library felt magical in a way that didn’t feel like actual
magic—not the kind she used to possess, anyway, or whatever disturbing thing Madam Meng had. This felt like the minutes before dawn, the mystical time when the sky was a mix of soft blue and orange and the day was new.
She skimmed the books with her fingers, feeling the ridges of cloth and paper.
Some looked well-loved with bent spines and wrinkled corners, others brand-new.
None had titles of any kind. She slipped a book off a shelf.
There wasn’t a single word in it, and the pages of the next book were empty too.
She repeated her experiment on another shelf of books only to find the same thing.
Or rather, nothing. Maybe this beautiful library wasn’t a library at all.
Something in the corner caught her eye. A book bound in chestnut-brown leather that showed signs of patina. It was musty-smelling
in the way old books were, and when she opened it, she felt something. There were no words, but the pages were alive somehow, like the book was a living creature and its story was being
written as she stared at it.
Rui didn’t know why, but it felt like the longer she left the book open, the more things would escape into the world, and
something would go wrong. She shut the book quickly and put it back. Madam Meng obviously disliked her. It was best not to
give the old lady more reason to hate her by messing up any part of the hotel. Besides, if Mao was right, Zizi was in here
somewhere.
Right in the middle of the room, where the shelves spun a full circle, Rui found a huddled figure on the floor.
Zizi was fast asleep, curled up with a hand under one cheek, knees drawn to his chest.
The sketches she had found in his room hurtled fresh into her mind, and her confusion returned tenfold. If that was how he
felt about her, how did she feel about him?
Rui knew she didn’t want anyone. She was perfectly fine being alone. She didn’t want him. And yet—
She brushed the tangle of hair off his face and trailed a finger down that dagger of a nose, over the bow of his lips, finally
resting her hand on his cheek. Zizi made a soft sound, shifting ever so slightly into her palm.
And in this wordless library, Rui felt her heart stumble and fall.
Zizi’s eyes flickered open.
“You found me,” he said, voice low and husky with sleep.
“Actually, it was Mao who led me here.”
“Sometimes I think Mao is more human than cat.” Zizi stretched lazily, more cat than boy himself. He propped his head up on his elbow, observing her closely. “Is everything all right?”
“I got mad at you because I hadn’t heard from you for weeks, so I broke into your shophouse,” Rui said, pressing her hands
to her face. “Sorry.”
“Is that all?”
Rui peeked between her fingers. The smirk on Zizi’s face told her he wasn’t mad about her trespassing. “You need to fix the
button that opens your spell lab. It’s not working. I tried it.”
“That’s because it doesn’t work. It’s just a random button that does absolutely nothing.”
“But you use it every time we go in.”
“My lab is secured by magic,” Zizi said, trying not to laugh. He ducked his head, mumbling, “I’ve been doing the button thing
to annoy you.”
“Why?” she said, utterly bewildered.
“It’s not my fault I’m an attention-seeker.”
“You did the annoying button thing to get my attention?”
“What can I say? Despite being a genius, I’m extremely pathetic when it comes to certain things.”
Rui caught the underlying meaning in his words. In this strange library in a stranger hotel full of magic, away from everything
and everyone, stripped of duty and burden, all she wanted was the truth. But to get to the truth, she had to stop lying.
“There’s something else I have to tell you,” she said haltingly. “I went into the room with the funny door. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t
have intruded.”
A faint blush bloomed on Zizi’s cheeks, but he looked impressed. “You figured out the voice spell?”
“Yes.”
“And you saw my sketchbooks?”
Rui could only nod.
“Did you . . . do you like my drawings?” There was a different question in his pale blue eyes.
If he’d asked her the same question another time, she might have had a different answer. But all she remembered was that feeling in her heart when Madam Meng commanded her not to see him again.
“I haven’t had much time to consider the details of your work,” she replied, “but I think I do.”
Zizi saw the other answer in her smile. Laughing, he took her wrist, guiding her down to him. She nestled close, laying her
head on his chest. Oh no, she thought, listening to the beat of his heart, this is nice.
Don’t get used to it, was her next thought.
“Does your head still hurt?” she asked.
“I’m fine now. More than fine now that you’re here.”
A rogue giggle escaped her. She was mortified. Who was this infuriating boy who’d turned her into someone who giggled at a line like that? Rui tried to glare. “I can’t believe you said that out loud.”
“Made you laugh,” Zizi said smugly. He twirled a lock of her hair around his fingers and tickled her nose with it.
“I’m changing the topic.” Looking at the shelves above them, she asked, “Why aren’t there any words in the books?”
“Truthfully? I don’t know. I’ve asked Gran, but she says some stories are meant to be hidden and never told or something ludicrous
like that. I think it’s a place she set up to add to the mystique of the hotel. It’s all part of the brand.”
Rui doubted that. There was something alive in the library.
“This is my favorite place in the whole estate,” Zizi confided. “Surrounded by blank pages, the promise of beginnings with
endings yet unwritten . . . it’s hopeful, isn’t it?”
“I never thought you to be an idealist.”
“Not an idealist, but a romantic,” he corrected. “Speaking of stories, there was this legend I read a long time ago, a creation
myth of sorts from an ancient civilization. Want to hear it?”
“Sure.” What she really wanted to tell him was that she would listen to him speak all day, that it was what she did whenever she visited his shophouse, when she’d curl up in the old armchair, pretending not to pay attention as he grumbled about his work.
Secretly, she’d hung on to every word he’d said.
But it was only now that she was admitting to herself why she did so.
Zizi cleared his throat softly. “A long time ago, when the first mortals arrived in the world, they looked weird as heck.
Or at least, they’d be weird to us now. Each human had four legs and four arms and two heads, all joined together at the torso,
which was spherical, like a ball—”
“Gross.”
“Shh—anyway, the gods were afraid the humans would challenge them and defeat them. So the gods struck the humans with lightning,
splitting each in half. Not only were their physical bodies separated, but their souls were also cleaved into two. From that
day on, each human felt the loss of their matching half. They would weep and bleed from the wound, and they spent the rest
of their lives doomed to search eternally for the other half who would make them whole again.” Zizi paused dramatically. “The
end.”
“The end?” Rui repeated.
“That’s all the story there was.”
“I thought there’d be a happy ending.”
“Not all stories have happy endings.”
“I know, I just . . . it seems tragic to spend your life that way, searching for the other half of your soul.”
“Could be fun, like a treasure hunt.”
She scowled. Trust him to turn everything into a joke.
But Zizi was suddenly serious again. “But haven’t you ever felt like that? Like you’re searching for someone out there who’s
just right for you—someone who completes you.”
Rui stayed silent, wondering, maybe even hoping, that somehow she might be that last piece of the puzzle that would complete
this boy who was looking back at her with those strange, strange eyes. But it was just a story, and maybe she was just a silly
romantic too.
“Since you’ve confessed your crimes, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” Zizi faced her. “When I saw you that night, I knew.”
He was talking about the night they first met. The night he saved her life. The night her mother died.
“Knew what?”
“That you were important to me.”
It wasn’t the answer she expected. “Why?”
He considered her question. “Do you need a reason? Because I don’t have one. I just know. You’re the most wondrous thing I’ve
ever seen.”
“Thing!” she scoffed, pretending to be insulted, appalled she was blushing again.
He tried again. “You are the most wondrous creature I’ve ever seen.”
“Creature?” she glowered, reaching to poke his ribs.
Zizi caught her hand and placed it on his chest. The beat of his heart was steady and strong, a melody she could listen to
forever. She didn’t want to spoil the moment, though she wasn’t entirely sure if what was happening was a moment. But Madam Meng’s words were troubling her.
“Your grandmother told me to stay away from you.”
Zizi’s expression turned lukewarm. “My grandmother sees the past and the future. She says many futures are possible, depending
on the actions of individuals. If she told you to stay away from me, then it’s probably for your own good.” He let go of Rui’s
hand, as if assuming she would do just that.
But Rui kept her hand on his chest. “You fool. To hell with fate.”
There was only silence as they stared at each other.
Then, Zizi grinned. “To hell with fate.”
It sounded like a promise.
They lay on their backs, staring at the ceiling of false stars and dreams, of a heaven that did not exist, and a future beyond
this moment, neither feeling the need to say anything aloud.
Rui wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Zizi reached over. His eyes were anxious, uncertain in a way she had never known
him to be. His fingers grazed her lips. “May I kiss you?”
She nodded, forgetting to take her next breath as he leaned in. But he tipped his head up, pressing his lips gently on her forehead like she was something precious.
He drew back, wincing slightly, his hand going to his temple.
“Are you all right?”
“I thought I saw—” He blinked a few times. “Never mind. Must be the migraine.”
“You should go back to your grandmother and figure out what’s wrong,” Rui said, though she didn’t want to let go of him just
yet.
“I’ll do that.” He smiled and pulled her closer. “But first—”
Footsteps were coming closer.
Someone else was in the library.
“Rui? You in here? Zizi?”
Yiran didn’t look at all surprised to see them lying next to each other on the floor, faces inches away from each other.
Zizi groaned. “Excellent timing, Mochi.”
“What are you doing here?” Rui spluttered.
Yiran yanked them both up. From his expression, she knew something was amiss.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“We need to leave right now.”
Zizi protested, “Hang on, you can’t just barge in here and ruin our moment and—”
Yiran silenced him with a glare. “I don’t care about your moment; reenact it later. There’s trouble in the city. We need to
leave now.”