Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
Home
The next day at noon, Ahn pulls up to the private platform where the Immortal Express gleams in the midday sun, meticulously repaired, with no trace of her previous misadventures.
The train leaves as soon as we’re aboard. Down the silkwood hallway, Gigi’s luggage is already in the yellow silk room. I keep walking, towards the next set of lattice doors. My chest feels hollowed out, my heart rattling in the emptiness.
The doors are open.
I catch a glimpse of Max standing stiffly by one of the mahogany moon gates.
Tony is sprawled on a chair, watching Max the way a cat might a mouse.
His gaze shifts, tracking my movements from the corner of his eyes as I pass their room.
Panic scrambles my thoughts, seizes my muscles.
I stumble. Keep walking, Jing. One foot in front of the other, I force my feet to move.
The next room over is mine, my luggage already set neatly by the bed. I close the doors and slide to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. Everywhere I look are memories of Tony. I bury my head in my arms, but even with my eyes shut, he’s still there.
It’s not long before a rumble vibrates through the floorboards, the engine roaring to life. With a lurch, we are on our way, back to yin Shanghai. Back home.
I don’t know how I’m going to tell Big Wang about my promise.
Thinking about it gives me a headache, so I don’t.
Later, I think. I’ll deal with it later.
Voices fill the hall. Every time I hear Tony’s name, or catch the timbre of his voice, my heart drops, giving me an unpleasant sense of vertigo.
I end up plugging my ears so the sound of my breathing can drown everything else out.
Someone knocks on my door. I don’t answer, and after a while they go away. I don’t know how long I sit there; eventually I fall asleep.
Another knock. I wake with a jolt, heart pounding from an unsettling dream.
In the dream, I’m in a forest. A small white fox is in my care.
I love this fox, but I’m so absent-minded, I keep forgetting about her.
I leave her behind, forget to pick her up, lose her.
There’s a sudden flood; a boat waits to take us to safety, but I can’t go without the little fox.
She’s not with me. I’m frantic because I can’t remember where I’ve left her and angry with myself for being so incompetent.
In the dream, I’m useless, just as in real life.
More knocking.
‘Jing, let me in.’ It’s Gigi.
‘I want to be alone,’ I whisper.
She sighs, but doesn’t insist.
That night while everyone is sleeping, footsteps approach my room and stand outside my door, casting a shadow across the silk lattice windows.
The familiar scent of snow and watermelon rind, layered with new notes of camphor and wisteria, calls to me, potent and intoxicating. Before I even make a conscious decision to move, I’m up and at the door.
Tony stares down at me, his mouth heavy at the corners. He looks lost and sad. Seeing him like this makes my insides twist with guilt. I hate that I’m the cause of his pain. I hate that I am what he says – abhorrent. So selfish I can’t even pretend to regret saving him.
A handspan is all that separates us but he makes no move to close the distance.
‘Tony,’ I say, my voice breaking on his name.
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even seem to hear me, his gaze locked on my face, seeing but not seeing me.
The jet black of his eyes is fading, brown returning to the edge of his irises.
Both sides of his bottom lip sport small circular scabs, healing as I watch.
Puncture wounds. As a child, I had them all the time until I learned to control my fangs.
I want to touch them, soothe away the hurt.
But I know he won’t welcome that so I keep my hands to myself.
‘How could you?’ His words are soft and heavy with heartache.
I didn’t think I had any more tears to cry but I was wrong.
Slowly, he leans down until our foreheads touch. He stays like that for a few heartbeats then returns to his room.