Chapter 5 #2
Dannie held my gaze, leaning closer. “Or you can just keep marrying well.”
Ignoring Dannie, I turned to Beng. “What kind of catch is this? I’ve never had it before.”
“We call it pia kia in Penang, I think it’s called mo gui yu in Chinese.” I nodded politely at his effort, having no clue what either of those meant.
“I’m not one hundred percent sure,” Dannie added, brow furrowing as if searching his memory. ”I’m not exactly an expert on fish names, but I think it’s stingray—or something similar.”
“What?” I swallowed the second piece that was already in my mouth a little too fast. “You can actually eat that?”
Beng nodded, unfazed. “Yes, very fresh, from the local catch. I buy from fisherman earlier.”
“You bought it from the fisherman?” That was something I never realized you could do. Back home, fish came wrapped in plastic from the supermarket, complete with nutrition labels and expiry dates. “That sounds… fun, actually.”
Excitement filled Beng’s voice, “There’s a fishing village nearby. I can take you guys. Maybe you see their sampan out here—the little boats.”
I nearly screeched as realization hit. “You mean those wooden boats? The ones that pass every morning.” I pointed toward the balcony, excitement bubbling out of me. “Sometimes they stop here.”
“Ya lah.” Beng barked and raised his glass toward Dannie, who was already pouring another round. The two men were well on their way into a drinking party.
They switched into Cantonese, their words flowing fast and casually. I could only catch fragments—family, business, health. Simple things, but the ease between them spoke volumes.
Every now and then, Dannie picked the edible bits of the spiky snails with a toothpick and dropped them onto my plate. He also cracked open the claws for me—the juiciest parts, easier to eat—and they were divine. Both versions, chili and grilled, were out of this world.
Then, out of nowhere, Beng turned to me. “You know this guy?” He jabbed a finger toward Dannie, eyes slightly glassy with alcohol. “He saved my life.”
My gaze flicked between them, curiosity sparking.
“I got attack,” Beng continued, slurring slightly. “They want me die, you know? My enemy.” He gulped down half his beer before refilling it. “And he saved me. Can you believe it? You are not supposed to attack people overseas. That is wrong.” He raised his voice, face reddening. “Wrong.”
“You would’ve been fine,” Dannie said coolly, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “They wouldn’t have gone through with it, even if I wasn’t there.” He exhaled smoke in a steady stream. “They don’t have the guts.”
“You don’t know that,” Beng muttered, lighting his own cigarette. Dannie leaned in, clicking his lighter for him. Their exchange was casual, practiced—two men who’d done this countless times.
“They said they want to show me casino,” Beng said, shaking his head. “But no casino. Just attack. Five guys came out with machete. Wait—maybe eight?” He placed a heavy hand on Dannie’s back.
“There was no way I’d let them cause trouble in my territory.” Dannie’s voice dropped an octave.
“Lucky I was in the right place.” Beng’s eyes softened. “I never forget how you and your men chased them away. I owe you my life.” He raised his glass again. “Gan bei!”
Their glasses clinked, and both men drained them in one go.
I’d almost forgotten Dannie smoked. The night Kai and I went back to the hotel, he’d probably slipped away for a cigarette break. He’d once told me he was a “social smoker”—only lighting up when it was rude not to. I supposed Beng was that kind of company.
Normally, I hated the smell of cigarettes. I’d spent too many hours in clinics reminding patients how it ruined their lungs. But with Dannie, I didn’t mind.
Maybe because I understood—the kind of life he led, the choices that weren’t really choices.
“So, you move here? Forever?” Beng asked, switching back to English with surprising clarity. I’d learned that Malaysians were linguistic chameleons, mixing three or four languages in a single sentence without missing a beat.
I opened my mouth, but Dannie spoke first.
“That’s my plan,” he said, glancing my way. “I love it here. It’s relaxing.”
“You want to retire early, ah?” Beng laughed.
I blinked. Retire? At his age? Dannie didn’t strike me as someone who could sit still for more than a minute.
“Maybe just take a step back,” he said, eyes still on me. “Live a little.”
His gaze lingered too long, too steady. Something knotted low in my belly—not quite discomfort, not quite desire. Just… awareness.
“Just enjoy,” he murmured. “No one can harm you here. I promise.”
By the time Beng left, it was well past midnight. He was so drunk that Dannie and I had to half-carry him to the door. Luckily, Beng’s men were waiting outside, ready to scoop their boss up and ferry him home.
The moment the door shut, Dannie collapsed onto the floor. “Finally,” he said between giggles, “peace and quiet.”
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” I grabbed both his hands and pulled. Nothing happened. I tried again, straining. His body moved maybe a few inches. “God, you’re heavy.”
He stared at me, eyelids drooping. “And you’re pretty.”
I rocked backward, trying to build momentum to haul him up. Instead, he flopped forward—taking me down with him.
I landed chest-first against him, my palms pressed to his shirt. His body was warm and solid beneath me.
“Ouch,” he murmured, voice low and amused. “I love you too.”
I froze. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then I pushed myself off him, cheeks burning. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, brushing imaginary dust from my jeans.
But as I glanced back, his head tilted lazily against the wall, a boyish smirk tugging at his lips. For a brief, dangerous second—I almost smiled back.
I hadn’t realized when my eyelids started to feel so heavy. Dannie’s voice had become this low, soothing hum in the background—warm, steady, safe. His heartbeat thumped under my ear, a quiet lullaby, and before I knew it, my body melted against his.
Maybe it was the heat. Or the drinks. Definitely the drinks. The room tilted ever so slightly, softening around the edges. I blinked a few times, trying to focus, but his chest rose and fell beneath me, slow and calm, and it was easier to just… stay there.
“I’ll just close my eyes for a second,” I whispered, my words slurred but content.
His fingers brushed a strand of hair off my face, and my heart did a strange flip. I wanted to say something—thank him, maybe, or tell him that being near him made me feel less… lost.
But the thought slipped away before it formed.
The last thing I remembered was the scent of him—clean soap, faint smoke, and a warm, cozy undertone.
Then darkness.
And just before I drifted off completely, I thought I heard someone call my name.
Except… it wasn’t Dannie’s voice.
“Kai.”