Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
At the sound of a ding, Ethan practically lunged for his phone.
A message had come from an unknown number.
Changsha. Wuyi Square today.
He tapped a reply, fingers moving fast.
Are you all right?
When will you be there?
Do you need money? Anything?
The messages sat there, delivered but unread. He watched the screen a full minute, then added one more line.
I miss you. I love you.
Nothing.
His heart hadn’t settled into anything resembling a normal rhythm since Mei Lin’s call… When had it been? Two days ago? Three? The time zones had scrambled him. Now, his heart rate climbed even higher. When the display went dark on his phone, he set it on the nightstand.
Was she safe, or had she been found? And found by whom? Why?
He felt as though he’d been handed a final exam without having taken the class.
He shoved clothes from his suitcase into the backpack he’d bought in Hong Kong before he’d boarded the train the night before.
Ethan had checked into this Changsha hotel, exactly the kind of place he’d never have chosen for himself—marble floors, a bathroom large enough to host guests, a complimentary bottle of wine he hadn’t touched.
Gavin had insisted. “Do what they expect. Don’t be unique. They think all Americans are rich, so be rich.”
Easy for his father to say. Gavin was rich, though compared to the average Chinese citizen, Ethan supposed he qualified too.
It’d been late when Ethan had turned his phone volume all the way up and forced himself horizontal. He’d managed a few hours of shallow sleep, threaded with prayers for Mei Lin.
When the backpack was stuffed with clothes, he grabbed the burner phone—another item Gavin had insisted he buy in Hong Kong—and powered it up.
The last thing he wanted to do was leave his cell behind. It was the only way for Mei Lin to reach him. But Gavin had been unambiguous.
“What if she texts?”
“You’ll see it when you get back.”
“What if it’s an emergency?”
His father had paused to take a deep breath. “What if they’re using you to find her?”
A good point.
After confirming that his father’s number was programmed into the burner, he shoved it in his pocket, leaving his real phone on the nightstand. If anyone was tracking it, they’d assume Ethan was sleeping off jet lag in luxury.
He took the stairs to the lobby and left the hotel via a side door.
Three blocks away, he stood at the curb of a busy street with his hand up, watching ride-share after ride-share roll past without slowing.
Nobody hailed cabs anymore, but he hadn’t wanted to log in to any apps on the burner.
Who knew what the Chinese government could track these days?
He waited, shifting his weight, until finally a taxi pulled over.
Despite the steady traffic, it only took fifteen minutes to reach Wuyi Square. He paid the driver in cash, added a generous tip, and accepted the man’s business card in return.
“I wait for you?”
“It might be a while.”
“You call me.”
Ethan figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a car on standby. He thanked the man, then stepped out and took in the scene.
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. A square, obviously, but this was more like a small city, a massive intersection where several roads converged and buildings rose on every side, glass and steel and neon signage stacked above storefronts.
The sidewalks were packed with workers, shoppers, and students.
Delivery riders weaved through all of it on yellow scooters, others dashing in and out of restaurants.
Music drifted from somewhere. The smell of frying oil from a street cart mixed with exhaust and something sweet he couldn’t identify.
Mei Lin couldn’t have found a better place to get lost in the crowd.
He started walking, looking at every woman he passed—and there were hundreds of them. Not one of them was Mei Lin. He would recognize her, of course. How much could she have changed in six years?
How much had he missed?
He walked the perimeter of the square counterclockwise, then cut across the center.
After another trip around, he headed to the center again and turned a slow circle. People, people everywhere. He stood there, watching them walk by. Talking, laughing, rushing, arguing. On the phone. On foot. On scooters. In cars.
Where are you?
His gaze skimmed past a cluster of delivery riders, a dozen of them or more, all in the same yellow uniforms.
Something hitched inside him.
He slowed down, looked again.
He was probably wrong. He was almost certainly seeing what he wanted to see. He walked toward them anyway, scanning each figure—height, build, posture…
And then his eyes met hers, and he froze.
The helmet, mask, and jacket she wore told the world she was nobody important. But he knew differently.
She was everything.
His Mei Lin.
He started moving, but she shook her head, the movement small and sharp.
He stopped. Think.
He looked around, took in the square, the storefronts, the flow of the crowd.
Between two restaurants, a narrow alley disappeared into shadows.
He looked back at her once, not wanting to let her out of his sight.
But then he turned his back on her and walked toward the alley.
It took every scrap of self-control to keep his pace even and not look back again.
The alley smelled like the restaurants that flanked it. The yeasty scent of bao buns and a sweetness that must be char siu—Cantonese pork with its distinctive red glaze.
He stepped into the shadow and pressed his back to the wall, praying she’d come.
The rumble of a small engine separated itself from the cacophony of the square, growing louder. He stepped out from the wall.
Mei Lin stopped, cut the engine, and swung off the bike. She removed her helmet, set it on the seat, then put the mask on top of it. Finally, she faced him.
He took her in, this woman he loved. She looked different. And she looked exactly the same.
She was breathing. She was alive.
Until this very moment, he hadn’t been sure. Hadn’t allowed himself to fully believe.
He crossed the space that separated them, wrapped his arms around her, and lifted her off her feet. She was small, far too thin, and felt incredibly breakable.
But her arms came around his neck, and she held on, her breath warming his skin.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words filled with wonder. “You came. You’re here.”
“Of course, of course.” He didn’t know what else to say. Couldn’t get his mind to catch up to the reality of this moment. Or couldn’t get reality to catch up with the dream.
He didn’t know where she’d been or why she hadn’t reached out in six years. He didn’t know anything except that she was here, this woman he’d thought gone. They were together.
A thousand questions and zero answers and six years’ worth of silence tried to wedge itself between them, and he didn’t care about any of that.
He was a million miles from Virginia, in a back alley in a Chinese city he’d never heard of until the night before, but somehow, he was home.
The taxi driver had been close. He’d arrived at the mouth of the alley two minutes after Ethan texted, had barely raised an eyebrow at Mei Lin or the address Ethan gave him, which was far from where his day had started.
Physically and metaphorically.
Mei Lin scooted into the backseat right beside him. She held his hand, her grip firm. His other arm was wrapped around her, holding her close.
He couldn’t stop looking at her, and her gaze never wandered from his face.
She was different in so many ways, yet the Mei Lin he’d fallen in love with was there, in those dark eyes.
Her skin was pale, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in years, and her cheekbones were more pronounced than he remembered.
Her hair had been cut about an inch above her shoulders, though not artfully or even professionally. More than that, it’d lost its shine.
Who had done this to her?
The apartment Gavin had secured was on the third floor of a nondescript building on a nondescript block. Nobody should be able to track him or Mei Lin here.
After giving the taxi driver another hefty tip, Ethan kept his arm around his wife’s waist as they walked up the stairs, afraid she might collapse and tumble back down.
He used the code Gavin had given him, heard an electronic lock disengage, and pushed the door open. He paused to let Mei Lin enter first.
The tidy apartment held a kitchen table and two chairs with a small couch on the other side of the room. He guessed the hallway led to a bedroom.
Mei Lin hadn’t moved.
“Go on in,” he said. “Have a seat.”
She took a couple of steps, pausing until he urged her toward the table. She sat, her hands folded in front of her on the surface.
She watched him warily.
“Are you hungry?” He dropped his backpack and a duffel bag she’d taken from the back of the scooter, then searched the cabinets. Empty. “I’ll order something. What do you want?”
The question seemed to confuse her.
“Mei Lin?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.”
He filed that away. The woman he’d married had never lacked for an opinion. This one seemed…terrified.
“No problem.” His words came out too lighthearted. He wasn’t sure how to behave. Nothing about this felt natural or right. “You’ll need some clean clothes, I assume.” He waited for her to answer, but she didn’t. “Anything else?”
She shook her head, her focus on the table. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” She’d apologized on the street too.
“I don’t mean to be so much trouble. More trouble than I’m worth.”
He crouched in front of her. “You’re not, sweetheart. You’re worth everything.”
The words seemed to confuse her. “Can I…?” She took a breath and tried again, her words spilling out fast. “Is it all right if I take a shower?”
“Of course.” It was a challenge to keep his worry—and all his questions—inside. “Come on.”