Rui grabbed the knife he’d left behind, and she began chopping the last apple with more force than necessary. Why was she so affected by how Zizi had brushed her off? She couldn’t remember anything about their relationship; it wasn’t rational to feel this upset.
“You okay?” Yiran said.
“Yes,” she said, giving the apple another smash.
Yiran looked skeptical. “I don’t know how the memory-loss thing works, but if it helps, he once told me that you mean—and I quote—everythingto him.”
The knife shook in her hand. “Why did you have to tell me that?”
“I thought it would help. Crap, I made it worse, didn’t I?” Yiran rubbed the back of his neck, groaning. “I’m sorry—I’m not good at this, but I can listen.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Rui exhaled slowly, forcing herself to let her emotions go. There were more important things in this world to worry about than whatever was happening with her non-relationship with Zizi.
“I’m sorry for that night too,” Yiran said.
“What night?”
“At the hospital.” He gestured awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have said all those things. None of what happened was your fault. Meeting you was a turning point in my life—a good one. And even though everything’s a mess now, I’m glad it happened. So here I am, apologizing for being a selfish, pathetic asshole. Short and sweet.” He made a funny face. “I’ll even eat a hundred tubs of mint-chocolate ice cream if that’s what it takes for you to forgive me.”
Despite everything, Rui laughed.
“Does that mean I’m forgiven?” Yiran said humbly and hopefully.
“You know, I don’t think I was ever truly mad at you.” She’d been envious once of who she thoughtSong ershaoyewas and what he stood for, but that stemmed from her own insecurity and desire to be the best. It had nothing to do with the boy next to her. EvenSong ershaoyehad been a construct; it seemed as though Yiran had finally chosen to be himself.
“There’s something else.” Yiran dug his hands into his pockets, mumbling slightly. “At the start, I was trying to befriend you so you’d let your guard down with me. I—” He swallowed hard, finally looking her in the eye. “I was looking for a way to keep your spiritual energy because it allowed me to do magic. I thought I could steal your weapons, refashionthem somehow to suit myself. Not only was that stupid, but it was also wrong. I wanted to come clean with you.”
Rui stared. “That’s morally repugnant.”
He nodded in agreement.
“Despicable and vile.” He nodded again, and she said, “It’s the worst thing that a human can ever do.” Yiran’s eyebrows knitted, but he nodded yet again. “You’ll have to eattwohundred tubs of mint-chocolate ice cream if you want my forgiveness.”
“I can do five hundred if I need to,” he declared.
“Then we have a deal.” Solemnly, Rui punched his arm to seal it.
“I miss that link we had sometimes.” He sounded wistful.
“I hate to say it, but I do too.” She placed the apple slices onto a plate and turned on the tap to do the dishes.
“Weird, isn’t it? How things are connected. You, me, the past... our fathers,” Yiran said in a voice so low she could barely hear him above the running water.
He’d turned his face away. She let the tap run, the sound of water hiding his sniffling.
“Why do you think my grandfather did it?”
The break in his voice wrenched her heart, and Rui slipped her arm around him. “I’ve been thinking about that too,” she said softly. “Why would Song Wei tie the block to his own spirit core and endure the consequences of it draining his life force? I think he did it to protect you in his own way, the only way he thought he could, because he knew what the Guild would do if they found out you were an Amplifier.”
“You think so?”
“I do,” she said, holding him tight. “Your grandfather must have suffered with you because he didn’t want you to suffer alone.”
She felt a tremor go through him as Yiran whispered, “Thank you.”
59
Yiran
