“Then perhaps you should give up your search,” Madam Meng said. “Some things are not meant to be found. Some people are better off lost. Some secrets should remain secrets.”
Rui clenched her jaw, more annoyed with herself—and Ten—than the old lady and her cryptic nonsense. The bench creaked as she stood. “Thanks anyway. I—”
She gasped. Madam Meng had grabbed her hand, and she was staring hard at Rui’s palm.
“I see he has chosen well,” she concluded seconds later. She released Rui, who wiped her hand on her jeans. “But unfortunately, you need to stop seeing him.”
“Excuse me?”
“I believe I was speaking plainly. I want you to stop seeing my grandson.”
Something lurched viscerally in Rui’s chest. “Stop seeing him? We’re not—” She tried to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but instead she felt pain. “We’re not dating if that’s what you mean. I would never—”
Would you never?whispered a voice in her head. Her cheeks flushed.
Madam Meng’s smile did not reach her eyes. “That makes things easy then. Leave him alone.”
“But I’m not bothering him,” Rui argued.He likes being with me, she thought.
“I want a parting of ways right now, before things progress.”
“You can’t change my mind by rearranging your sentences. Why don’t you want me to see him?”
“You do not need to know.”
“Zizi’s my friend. He saved my life.”
“Friends come and go. Make new ones.”
Rui fumed. “I’m speaking plainly, too. I refuse to stop seeing your grandson. I’m happy with the friends I have now and see no reason to replace them.”
Madam Meng leaned forward, knuckles white from gripping the table. “Your story will not end well,” she hissed.
Fear inched down Rui’s spine. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Just as you cannot change fate, I cannot force your actions. Do what you will. Choose your own path if you wish, but be warned it will be a difficult one.”
Before Rui could respond, Madam Meng rose from her seat and disappeared down the dark aisles.
30
Yiran
The grand hall felt colder without Zizi and Rui. Yiran wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He stared at the intriguing ceiling, spotting a mural of a man with the head of a horse shaking hands with another who had the head of a bull. Weirdly, they were dressed in business suits and standing next to what looked like a giant arched doorway. Throngs of humans were on their hands and knees, begging to be let through the door. Or perhaps, to escape whatever hell they were in.
Someone cleared their throat. The concierge was still here.
“I’ve never heard of your hotel before, and I’m pretty sure I know all the famous and exclusive ones,” Yiran said, casually picking up an expensive-looking vase. He wasn’t sure what to make of the decor of the hotel. It was a mishmash of things from different eras and styles, but there was something beautiful about the eccentricity of it all.
The concierge pried the vase from his hands. “We have an extremely private clientele.”
“The rich and powerful?”
“Would you like some tea? Madam Meng is famous for her blends,” she replied coldly.
Yiran nodded and she left the room. He pulled his phone out and called Ash, who picked up after the first ring.
“What’s wrong?”
