“You can stop by the shop to say hi,” Zizi suggested, grinning lopsidedly. “You haven’t in forever.”
“It’s only been a couple of weeks. I’ve been busy at school.”
“Time is a construct.” Zizi tried to stand straight, clearing his throat like he was an orator giving a grand speech. “Haven’t you heard the saying?A day feels like three autumns when one is missing one’s beloved.”
Was he callingherhis beloved? He’d definitely had a drink. Or three. Flustered, Rui latched onto a random thought. “When your spiritual energy is transferred to someone else, does it make you more aware of them somehow?”
Zizi’s expression sharpened immediately. “Are you talking about Mochi?”
She couldn’t tell if he was peeved that she had changed the topic or that the topic she chose was Yiran.
“I want to know what the separation spell did to us, what it did to me. That’s all,” she said. “I’ve been sensing his feelings. It’s not very clear—well, it is sometimes if it’s a strong feeling. Is that because of what happened between us? Are we connected now?”
Zizi’s expression changed. Guilt battled with something else. Guilt won, and thesomething elsefolded away, tucked out of sight.
He turned away from her, his shoulders taut. “You’re both connected now, that much is true.” Rui thought he sounded a little sad. “But I’m not sure if it manifests in the form of what you’re saying. It makes sense you’ll be hyperaware of each other now, but this is new territory. The spell worked in a way I never anticipated. I don’t know the parameters.”
“How about Yiran’s spirit core? He’s not having problems at training.”
“He’s not? That’s odd, but maybe—”
Loud voices carried from the street. Rui heard a scuffle, and she felt—
Yiran.
She dashed out of the alley, and Zizi followed her.
Yiran and a muscular man were having a staring contest on the sidewalk next to the club. Yiran looked like a kettle about to boil over.
The man had a dark stain on his khaki pants, like something had been spilled on him. He slammed a palm into Yiran’s chest, and Yiran staggered back.
“Say you’re sorry, boy!”
Yiran lunged, but Zizi hooked his arm around him, pulling him back.
“Let go,” Yiran seethed.
Zizi held firm.
“I saw you,” the man accused. He was clearly drunk and aching for a fight. “I recognize that coat; it was you.”
Why was Yiran wearing his Xingshan Academy coat over his street clothes for a night out on the town? He should’ve known better than to put a target on his back.
“It wasn’t me. I didn’t spill anything on you,” Yiran insisted, furiously struggling against Zizi’s grip. “I won’t apologize for something I didn’t do.”
“I think everyone’s had a little too much to drink,” said Zizi airily. “Why don’t we all go home and have a good night’s sleep?”
“I don’t drink,” Yiran retorted. “Let go of me. I can take him.”
Rui slipped in front of Yiran, flashing her most disarming smile at the man. There weren’t many people outside the karaoke club. She had a chance to contain this before it blew up.
“I’m so sorry, sir. My friend made an honest mistake. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the Academy’s notified. He’s a disciplinary case, you see.”
For a moment, the man seemed confused, then he read between her lines the way Rui had intended him to. “Good. Make sure he gets punished.”
She forced herself to keep her apologetic smile. “Of course, sir. Our duty is to protect the city and its people. Have a good night.”
“At least one of you has some common sense.” The man spat. “Freaks.”
