“Is anyone there?”
The street stood eerie. Each thud on the front door of the Hong residence ricocheted into the night, harmonizing with the distant claps of gun1re. Though none of the 1ghting could travel past Concession lines, its impact boomed through the rest of the city like thunder.
“HELLO?”
While Celia knocked, Rosalind busied herself with breathing warm air into her gloved hands. They needed to get Orion back to Zhouzhuang—to Lourens
—so that his mind didn’t detonate. They needed to get Oliver to a hospital in case he was experiencing some sort of internal bleeding and Rosalind had diagnosed him falsely.
The problem was that they had no way of knowing when the bombing would stop—if it would stop—so how could they plan their next steps? Never mind that Rosalind was also worrying herself sick over where the hell Phoebe was at present or what Lady Hong was doing if Silas had passed her all of Oliver’s blood. How long did they have to stop her? How quickly would she work?
“Can’t we break in?” Alisa asked in the meantime. “Those windows look like they could shatter easily.”
“They have a housekeeper,” Celia answered. “Are you trying to give Ah Dou a heart attack?”
“Maybe he’s since gone home.”
“Home? To the countryside? Who would leave the International Settlement
for the countryside when we’re about to get invaded?”
As Celia and Alisa continued debating over the door, knocking incessantly, Rosalind folded her arms to trap the heat, nervously eyeing Orion and Oliver. Though Oliver claimed to have gained some clarity, able to stand and walk on his own, Orion still hovered around him, frowning at every small movement.
It was incredibly confusing looking at them together. Rosalind was blooming a headache herself at the mere sight. She had noticed Orion wincing too, but each time she asked if he was all right, he maintained that nothing was wrong… despite his expression speaking the contrary.
“It’s very late in the night,” Alisa was insisting. “Maybe he is sleeping through this—”
The door opened suddenly. Celia almost stumbled on the front stoop before withdrawing her next knock, pulling her arm back. An elderly man dressed in pajamas stood inside, one hand still on the doorknob and the other rubbing his bleary eyes. He looked at Celia, then past her shoulder.
“Shàoyé,” Ah Dou said, his eyes widening at the sight of Orion. Then his gaze shifted to Oliver beside him, and the old housekeeper did a double take, spluttering again, “Shàoyé?”
He put his hand to his forehead. When his attention Aickered between Celia
and Rosalind next, the housekeeper was clearly doubting his wakefulness.
“Am I seeing in doubles? I didn’t think my vision had deteriorated that much recently.”
Celia held her hand out. “No, you’re seeing correctly. You don’t know me, but I am Lifu’s mission partner, Lang Liya. Can we come in?”
Ah Dou shook her hand, then pulled her through the door, gesturing for everyone else to hurry too. Rosalind stepped in ahead of Orion so she could nudge the housekeeper aside for a moment, whispering, “Liwen has lost his memory. Don’t be concerned if he doesn’t remember you.”
“He… Oh, goodness. Let me make some tea. You are?” “Lang Shalin.”
“Oh, the wife. Lovely.”
Ah Dou shuAed oP into the kitchen, leaving Rosalind to blink after him in surprise. The timing didn’t check out for Orion to have relayed her identity to
his housekeeper. Ah Dou had likely only known who she was from reading about her in the papers.
“I think we’re in the clear.” Alisa closed the front door, pressing up against it for a few moments. “It doesn’t seem like anyone is after us yet.”
Rosalind nodded her agreement, already taking inventory around the living room. As soon as they entered the foyer, their every word carried a hollow echo, darting in and out of the vases under the clock, landing hollowly over the thin rug laid out by the leather sofa.
So this was where Orion grew up. Or rather, this was where he grew up prior to being shipped oP to London, the site of his happy memories before everything turned gray.
It felt rather empty. “—here!”
Rosalind jumped at the unexpected volume, swiveling her attention to Orion and Oliver. Her every nerve had tensed on instinct, but nothing was wrong. Well, something was clearly wrong, but there was no immediate threat. The brothers were only arguing with each other.
“I’m not telling you to get on my shoulder while I throw you around,” Orion snapped. “I am saying—”
“I know, Orion. And I’m saying I don’t need you clucking after me like a
hatchling—”
“A hatchling!” Orion crowed. He lifted his hand to his neck. Anyone else might have brushed it oP as an absent gesture, but Rosalind knew better. He was in pain. His head again. “If anything, I am clucking after you like the father chicken—”
“Enough, enough,” Celia chided. “Stop it. Oliver has plenty to deal with right now.”
Rosalind Ainched. All her defensive hackles rose. “Hey,” she cut in. “Orion’s not doing anything wrong. He’s only trying to help.”
Memory or no memory, he was the type of person who needed something to do or say. It was probably driving him nuts that he couldn’t plan their route around the city or contribute to an escape plan or, hell, even identify where his own house was.
“I suppose,” Celia said. She didn’t sound very convinced.
Neither did Oliver, it seemed. He pressed against the couch for balance, one arm propped to the backing and the other pressing around his torso.
“Where’s Phoebe tonight?” he demanded suddenly. The living room went quiet.
“She’s there.” Orion stepped away, putting distance between himself and his brother. Although Rosalind was observing him, he didn’t meet her eyes when he drew nearer; he tipped his head up instead, looking at the clock on the wall, and Rosalind knew he was trying to hide the Aash of pain crossing his expression. “At the facility. She came along too.”
Oliver’s gaze sharpened. “Why didn’t she make it out?”
Alisa, now, was sidling in from the foyer—slowly, deliberately. She seemed very interested by how Oliver would react to this news.
“She took a diPerent entrance from the rest of us,” Rosalind answered. “I have no clue where she was. There was no time to 1nd her on our way out.”
“So you traded Phoebe for me,” Oliver intoned.
Rosalind’s brow shot up. Resentment crawled up her stomach and into her throat, itching like a thousand-legged insect wanting to work its way out. What kind of remark was that? They had just risked their lives to get him out, and he responded with blame?
“She shouldn’t even have been inside,” Rosalind returned icily. “You’re the
one who needed rescuing.”
Celia’s eyes went wide, like she couldn’t believe what she just heard.
“Rosalind.”
“What? If he’s going to blame other people, maybe he should take some responsibility too.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Celia demanded. “Do you think he asked to be in there?”
When Orion crossed his arms, both his 1sts were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned bloodless. “Technically,” he said, jumping in before Rosalind could. “Yes. He did. When you both picked your sides.”
The temperature in the room plummeted. This was getting dangerous.
“That’s unfair,” Celia said coldly. “I don’t need a Nationalist telling me that we deserve to get picked oP.”
“He’s not telling you as a Nationalist,” Rosalind 1red back. “We just killed a whole unit of Nationalists to get Oliver out of there.”
Celia scoPed. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re the ones always safe in this city.”
“Are you joking?” Rosalind pointed toward the door. “Don’t you hear those bombs?”
“And who are those bombs going to strike?” Celia returned. “Not the top
commanders living on this very road.”
“Without those commanders, we’d lose the entire city to the Japanese this very night.”
“Without any commanders, maybe I wouldn’t have almost died in a massacre 1ve years ago!”
“All right!”
As soon as Alisa barged between them with a shout, Rosalind reared back with a gasp, snapping out of her fury. Celia blinked hard too, as if she had suddenly realized how far she had taken it.
“I am going to need everyone”—Alisa Aung both her arms out, keeping them
at a distance—“to simmer down right this moment. There’s a war outside, for goodness’ sake. What are you doing going for each other’s throats in here?”
Rosalind’s lungs were horri1cally tight. Alisa was right. They were doing exactly what she always grumbled the nation itself did, sniping at each other and making terrible hits while actual danger loomed shortly beyond. They weren’t their factions. She knew this.
Yet the taste of frustration had turned her whole tongue bitter. She couldn’t
bear to stand there and make civil conversation anymore, even if that was the sensible option. Rosalind had nothing nice to say when Celia was being comparative like this.
She pivoted for the stairs instead.
“That’s a good idea!” Alisa called after her cheerfully. “Rest is a great option!” There was a scrambling of footsteps, and then Orion was right behind her, arm on her elbow and pointing forward in guesswork over which room was his.
It almost shocked her that she felt profuse relief over his presence instead of further blistering annoyance. Below, she heard Celia murmuring, and then she and Oliver were going oP in another direction of the house, a door slamming on the 1rst Aoor.
“No need for such force in the household!” Alisa continued from the living room, her tone upbeat. “Take deep breaths! Remember, I love you all!”
No matter how jolly Alisa stayed, Rosalind maneuvered onto the second Aoor like a dark storm. C’est quoi ce bordel, who do they think they are—
She halted at the entryway into Orion’s presumed bedroom, letting him enter 1rst. Then, in response to her sister, she slammed the door as hard as she could too.
Alisa winced.
They would get over it. Siblings always did. Everyone was only stressed after the night they’d had. And because there were bombs falling from the sky.
“So dramatic,” Ah Dou commented. He had just returned from the kitchen, clutching a tray of teacups.
Alisa went to help the housekeeper, putting the tray down on the table by the couch. It smelled wonderful. She reached for the teapot, pouring two cups.
“If you want to see proper dramatics, you should meet my brother,” Alisa
remarked. She set the teapot down. “Have you worked at the Hong household long?”
“A very long time.” Ah Dou picked up his tea. He seemed to enjoy the fact that Alisa was sitting with him to chat. “Since before Lifu was born.”
“Ah.”
She let the next few minutes pass comfortably, drinking her tea. Inside her head, Alisa was silently doing the math, trying to remember how far apart the Hong siblings were in age. She and Phoebe were both born in the year of the ox
—that she already knew. Orion, if her memory served correct, was twenty-two years old. Judging by the tiny statues of a horse, a rooster, and an ox that Alisa could see lined up on the mantel, she could use the process of elimination to guess that meant Oliver was turning twenty-six this year. A long time, indeed.
“I don’t mean to pry…,” Alisa started carefully, “but did you know that he was going to walk out?”
Ah Dou swirled his tea. “Dà shàoyé, you mean?” he con1rmed, referring to Oliver. “I didn’t know, yet I wasn’t surprised. You can feel those sorts of things, I suppose.”
Alisa thought of her own household, back in her childhood. It hadn’t been an unhappy place, but it had been volatile. If her brother was in trouble, she could feel it like sleet seeping through the walls. If her cousin was angry at the world, she could hear it in every creak of the Aoorboards, sense heat on her palms if she touched the doors after him.
“Did you ever feel it with Feiyi?”
Ah Dou blinked. “With xiǎojiě? No, of course not.”
The memory of their rescue mission Aashed through Alisa’s mind. When they had emerged, her ears had been ringing with the conversation she caught. While Alisa was navigating the corridors devastated by the bombing, Rosalind and Phoebe had occupied the wire.
“Keep moving.”
“There are soldiers.”
“I have you covered. Move!”
Rosalind hadn’t seemed to think much of it. Once they were safe, she hadn’t commented on the gunshots that had followed Phoebe’s instructions. Curiously, Alisa had been waiting this whole night to see whether Rosalind would bring it up, but Rosalind clearly had a lot on her plate at the moment.
Alisa was happy to 1ll in for her.
She yawned. “I didn’t realize I was getting so tired.”
Ah Dou 1nished his tea at once. “Let’s get you in Feiyi’s room. I’m sure she won’t mind. Washroom is right next door if you need it.”
He ushered her up the stairs, underneath the large chandelier dangling lifelessly from its wires. Alisa tipped her chin to take in the house, the fading wallpaper and the imprints that had been left on the Aooring where heavy furniture used to stand. Rectangular shapes remained on the walls too, blocks where the deep green and golden Aoral patterns were lighter, the perfect size to imply picture frames that had since been removed.
“The house has seen better conditions,” Ah Dou remarked, tracking her line of sight.
“I think it is perfectly well maintained now,” Alisa insisted.
Ah Dou smiled sadly. “Nice of you to say. To tell the truth, the Kuomintang is most certainly going to seize everything as an asset soon. How can they not?”
Alisa stayed quiet. When they walked past the doors in the hallway, she could hear voices coming from Orion’s bedroom in heated debate. Ah Dou opened Phoebe’s room, then grimaced at the state she had left it in.
He bade her a good night. Alisa thanked him and returned the pleasantry. When the housekeeper’s footsteps faded away, she was 1nally at liberty to shut the door 1rmly and yank up her sleeves.
Alisa performed a slow turn to take in the contents of Phoebe’s bedroom. There were all sorts of scattered objects around the carpet: tubes of lipstick and hair ribbons and socks with one hole where the big toe needed to go. The room was waiting in an interlude, holding its breath for its occupant to return.
She eyed the vanity. The mirror leaning against the wall. The closet doors.
Nothing about those items drew her attention.
Her gaze settled on the clothing trunk at the foot of Phoebe’s bed instead. It sparkled in the overhead light, studded with bright pink jewels. Carefully, Alisa wandered over, then lifted the lid with a single 1nger. She found neatly folded skirts in varying styles, all plucked from the latest fashion magazines.
Then Alisa swiped a hand across them, revealing the box that sat underneath, latched with a simple mechanism. This was the kind of lock that didn’t expect intruders. This was the kind of lock someone put in place if they knew no one would ever come looking.
“No way,” Alisa muttered. “No goddamn way—”
She unlatched the lock. Inside the long box, there were two riAes, two pistols, and endless cartridges. Beautifully polished. Not a single speck of dust to be found.
“Wow.”
Alisa couldn’t believe she hadn’t suspected this from the get-go. How had it taken her this long? For heaven’s sake, she had known from the Communist
grapevine that Oliver was Priest’s handler. Somehow, she still hadn’t made the connection. Unbelievable!
She propped her hands on her hips. Considered the situation at hand. With a great sigh, Alisa lugged the box up.
“Phoebe Hong,” she muttered, “you owe me for this.”
