Yiran rummaged through his desk drawers and found an old matchbox he’d nicked from some bar. The first match caught fire and fizzled out just as quickly. He struck a second match, and this time he managed to keep the flame going long enough to inhale. Embers sparked. He blew out a puff of smoke, the taste of burning paper and something flowery on his tongue.
“You owe me one for damaging my lungs,” he said to the lump under the duvet.
A hand stuck out. “Your lungs are fine; it’s not a normal cigarette.”
Yiran placed the cigarette between Zizi’s fingers.
Zizi muttered something and waved his hand. Smoke curved in the air, hovering unnaturally, as if bolstered by an unseen force. He had written something.
A number.
Nine.
“Jiu,” Rui murmured. She’d moved so quietly Yiran hadn’t noticed her beside him. “Jiu...” she repeated, changing the intonation of the word. She blinked. “To save?”
“All right, she knows we’re coming,” Zizi said. He mumbled something else, and the cigarette turned into a neat pile of ash in his palm. “I assume Mochi has a fancy car parked somewhere around here.”
“I do have a bunch of fancy cars in the garage,” Yiran said, picking up the small trash can from the corner. He guided the other boy’s hand and dusted the ash into it. “Who exactly are we visiting?”
Zizi poked his head out from under the duvet. He had tied the sash from his coat around his eyes.
“My grandmother.”
29
Rui
Rui peered out the car window and read the small gold plaque on the low brick wall.
“The Reverie.Are you sure this is it?” she said, looking dubiously at the ancient mansion on top of the small hill they’d just driven up. Another building rose behind it, more modern in architecture and ten stories tall.
Yiran killed the engine. “That’s what the GPS says.”
“Doesn’t your grandmother own a bakery, Zizi? You told me those egg tarts were from her bakery.”
“The bakery inside the hotel. My grandmother owns the hotel, therefore, she owns the bakery.” The sash was still around Zizi’s eyes, shielding him from Rui’s glare. He stepped out of the vehicle and groped the air in front of him.
Rui was surprised to see Yiran going to him and helping him up the stone stairs voluntarily. She followed them, and together they went through a moon gate into an expanse of manicured garden.
It felt like they had entered another world. Whimsical lamps hung from trees, and the air smelled of tea leaves and blooming flowers. There was a beautiful arbor at the mansion’s entrance with vines running up and down the stately red brick. The place looked old-fashioned in a moneyed kind of way. It never crossed her mind that Zizi was from a wealthy family. He was always scrounging around for a quick buck, tiptoeing back and forth over the line of criminality. She should’ve guessed from his expensive taste in silk pajamas.
She pushed the heavy front doors open, and they entered the reception.
The concierge looked up. There was a shiny pin of a camellia flower on her lapel.
“Welcome to The Reverie,” she said, clearly confused by the trio. “MayI help—oh dear—” Her gaze had settled on Zizi.
“Don’t worry, she’s expecting me.” Zizi removed the sash around his eyes, tying it around his narrow waist. His skin was less pallid than before.
The concierge composed herself. “In that case, come with me, please.”
The hall was enormous and lit by a chandelier and a few ornate side tables and plush armchairs scattered across the room. It was just as dim as the reception, giving the whole place a hazy, dreamlike quality.
“Wait here.” The concierge went over to a rotary telephone and spoke into the earpiece.
Zizi settled onto the nearest chaise. But Rui and Yiran looked around, curious about everything.
A magnificent ceiling arched over them like a chapel’s, and it was painted with murals. Rui counted ten of them. Each mural depicted a scene from someone’s dark imagination: mountains and fiery lava pits; strange beasts prowling a landscape of jagged rock and stone; a suspension bridge hanging over a ravine of knives while vicious-looking winged creatures soared in the skies above...
