Rui had entered the room expecting something else altogether. Not this.Thistold her how Zizi truly felt.
She closed the sketchbook and sank onto the futon, hugging her knees close. She didn’t know how or what to feel. But a quiet ache was growing in her chest, a longing for something she couldn’t describe. Her mother’s death had brought Rui magic, and it had also broughthim.
She was still sitting on the futon when her phone rang.
Yiran’s voice crackled from the speaker. “I’ll be at the station in five. Are you there already?”
How long had she been at the shophouse?
“I’m on my way,” she replied curtly, and hung up.
She threw a last glance at the stack of sketchbooks and walked out.
27
Rui
Rui tightened her grip on the grab handle in the car. She’d heard so many stories of the formidable Song Wei that he’d become a legend in her mind. This wasn’t how she wanted to meet the man who possessed the ability to either give her what she so dearly wanted or wrench it away with a simple nod or shake of his head. Without her magic, she felt especially exposed and vulnerable. What if he saw through her secret? What if—no, she was going to this dinner with a mission in mind: access to the Guild.Thatwas what she had to focus on.
She chewed on her nails and stared out the window. Buildings upon buildings zoomed by. Ripe peachy sunset hues grazed glass and steel, enveloping the city in warmth. Dusk was settling in.
Soon the imposing gates of the Song estate loomed, the tips of the iron bars gilded gold and curved sharp like an eagle’s claws. The path to the house was tree-lined and felt a mile long. At the end of it, Yiran parked the car casually askew by the garage.
Song Mansion was a modern siheyuan. Rui didn’t take to it the way she loved Zizi’s shophouse, but it was obvious it meant something to Yiran for reasons beyond the fact that he lived here. The look on his face told her as much.
The front doors were painted a traditionally lacquered vermilion and carved with symbols Rui didn’t understand. Two stone lions stood guard on either side. Across the threshold, the short path led to a second, smaller set of doors—a spirit screen etched with even stranger symbols.
Everything inside was warm wood and stone and terra-cotta roofs, and the main courtyard had an egg-shaped koi pond and a surprisingly unruly garden. The openness of the layout gave an illusion of welcoming candor. Yet tall bamboo grew from the gray-pebbled perimeter, screeningguests from what was likely the private family quarters north of the gardens and courtyards, tucking them away safely from prying eyes and sniffing noses.
Yiran gestured at a cabinet by the wall. “Shoes off, Darcy.”
“I’m not a heathen.” She glared automatically, but she’d grown used to him calling her by that name now and then. Secretly, she felt it might suit her, but she’d rather walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him.
They exchanged their boots for pairs of woven house slippers. Muttering something about changing his clothes, Yiran left her in the care of the housekeeper, who introduced herself as Auntie Kimmie. She had come out to greet them.
“It isn’t often that er shaoye has friends over,” Auntie Kimmie said. She was a kindly lady in her early fifties who wore a tidy dress and a camel-colored cardigan with pearl buttons.
“I’m surprised, he seems popular,” Rui said, noting that Auntie Kimmie’s use of the honorific was affectionate.
“I was worried for him. He hung out with a certain clique at his old school.” It was clear Auntie Kimmie didn’t approve of that. “I’m glad he’s made friends quickly at the Academy. He’s very shy, you see.”
Shywas not the word that came to mind when Rui thought of Yiran.
“It’s good to have him home. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him. He sends me messages from time to time to keep me updated, you know. He doesn’t want me to worry; he’s such a good boy.”
Rui hadn’t thought Yiran to be the sort to keep his housekeeper informed about his life.
“Is there anything else I can get you, Miss Rui?”
Rui gestured at the honey cakes and cup of warm yuzu tea laid out on the table. “This is more than enough, thank you.”
Auntie Kimmie nodded and left.
Rui slouched back into her default mode of grumpy and tired. She was tempted to explore the place, but Song Wei could be anywhere. She drank her tea, nibbled her cake, and sent a barrage of text messages to Ada, whohad made her promise to describe every inch of the mansion.
Shortly, Yiran returned. Freshly scrubbed from a quick shower, he’d removed his contact lenses and was wearing a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles.
“Are dinners here always so formal?” Rui asked, surprised by his crisp shirt and gray sweater-vest.
