Yiran
The mattress Yiran had been sleeping on for the past few nights at the pub gave him a stiff back in the mornings, and it was no different today. He stretched slowly, working out the kinks in his body, wondering why the dive bar was empty today. There was normally at least one Hybrid hanging around, though he was mostly left in Yuki’s charge.
Without fail, his father would come to him each night, asking him to channel his magic. Yiran’s frustration grew as his efforts sputtered and failed, and he had a sinking feeling his father was getting impatient too. It also felt like his father expected him to fend for himself among the Hybrids. To earn a spot in the crew, the same way Noah had. Yiran wondered if he was flunking the test.
The creak of stairs got his attention. He caught Henry just as he was putting on his jacket by the front door. He must’ve been in the cellar before Yiran had woken.
“Hey, Henry.”
The Hybrid startled. “Did I wake you?”
“It’s okay. Have you seen Yuki? Is he with my father?”
“Not sure where that kid is, but it’s a big day for the boss,” Henry said absently as he gathered a bunch of packages from the table.
“Where are you going?”
“To meet him at The Green Needle.”
There was a beat of silence as Henry’s hand froze over a package.
He slipped up. He wasn’t supposed to tell me.Yiran yawned loudly, acting as though he hadn’t noticed Henry’s carelessness and that the wordsThe Green Needlemeant nothing to him.
“Cool. Guess I’ll just hang around here until Yuki comes back.”
Henry smiled, looking relieved that Yiran hadn’t seemed to notice anything. “Sure, kid.”
“I’m going back to sleep. See ya.” Yiran shuffled to the back of the bar.
The front door closed, and he heard a click. Was thathabit or had he been intentionally locked in? That voice of doubt returned.Why the hell are you here? They’re Hybrids. You know they’re up to no good.
Maybe it wasn’t a voice of doubt, but a voice of reason.
His gaze landed on the trapdoor. What exactly was in the cellar? He’d seen his father and several Hybrids going in and out of it, and the door was usually kept locked. He got up and tugged at the lever. To his surprise, the door opened. Had Henry forgotten to secure it?
Down the ladder, Yiran found a workspace with equipment he didn’t recognize and shelves that were sagging from the weight of various devices. Some looked like the scanning device Henry had used on him; others Yiran wasn’t so sure about. As he turned to leave, his foot kicked a ball of paper that had missed the trash bin. He didn’t know what compelled him to pick it up and flatten it out.
Someone had written several locations in the city on the piece of paper. What did it mean? He threw another nervous glance at the various devices and crumpled the paper, putting it back where it’d been. Carefully, he closed the trapdoor, making sure there were no signs that he’d entered.
His mind went back to Henry’s slipup.Big day for the boss... To meet him at The Green Needle.
What day was it? Yiran had lost track. He checked his phone, and the dread in his stomach worsened.
He dashed to the back exit of the bar. It was locked too. Cursing, he tried the windows. They were unlocked, but stuck because of the cold. He slammed his shoulder into one until the hinge gave way and he could push it open and squeeze his way out. Sprinting toward the mainstreet as fast as he could, he hailed a cab, hoping desperately that his gut was wrong.
The Green Needle was the most esteemed teahouse in the city. It had retained its centuries-old architectural features and traditional methods of brewing. Song Wei wasn’t a sentimental man, but if there was one thing he never failed to miss each year, it was his tea ritual on the day of his wife’s death anniversary. For as long as Yiran could remember, his grandfather would visit this teahouse at the same time each year to order his late wife’s favorite tea. It was a private custom Ash and Yiran were not a part of.
It couldn’t be a coincidence that Song Limingwas coming here today.
Big day for the boss...Was his father revealing that he was still alive? Or was something else about to happen?
Breathing heavily, Yiran staggered to the double doors at the entrance. Traffic had been a nightmare, and he’d jumped out of his cab and run the last three blocks.
“Do you have a reservation, sir?” said the waitress at the front, looking dubiously at his disheveled state.
“I’m looking for Song Wei,” Yiran panted.
“I’m afraid Master Song has requested not to be disturbed,” the waitress replied awkwardly. She seemed uncertain about turning a guest down. Maybe she was a new hire.
