Page 66 of From Beijing, With Love

“Did you ever figure out what happened? Your lab should really set up version control, so you’ll know exactly who to blame next time something goes wrong.” Daniel smiled, raising his hand. “Speaking as someone who has a habit, and a bit of history, of breaking things.”

“The changes were made from the lab computer, and the lab has been closed for two weeks for renovation, so I guess I’ll be pointing the finger at a ghost?” Yang laughed a little as he flipped absentmindedly through the book on his lap.

Daniel’s brain chose this moment to drop a piece of memory at his feet like a dog with a ball, nudging him to pick it up.

“Jack’s shoes,” Daniel blurted out.

Yang looked up from his book. “What?”

“You said no one had been in the lab for weeks, but Jack was. He got paint on his black sneakers from knocking over a paint can or something.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed for a second as if considering Daniel’s words, then he shook his head. “Just a coincidence, I’m sure. I’ve known Jack for four years. Despite our … I guess you can say differences, he’s a decent guy. A good scientist. He’d never jeopardize someone else’s work. Any paper published by the group is a win for everyone in the group. That was one of the first things he told me when I was the new guy.” Yang looked out the window at the long stretch of rural landscape. When he looked back at Daniel, a corner of his lips tilted upward. “Without the broken code, you probably wouldn’t be sitting on this train right now. Is that why you are looking for someone to blame?”

“Probably.” Daniel returned the smile.

Yang slid his foot forward until his shin crossed Daniel’s like the letter X. The warmth of Yang’s skin sent a tingle up Daniel’s spine, then came Yang’s voice, low and dangerous (and totally working for Daniel). “Did I ever properly thank you for helping me with that Python program?”

“No?” Daniel said, playing the part.

“Well, there’s still time,” Yang said with a wink before opening his paperback to read.

Such a tease.

The book caught Daniel’s attention. Thin and frayed around the corners, it looked well read and perhaps past its prime. Yet the way Yang held it in his hands made it seem almost precious.

“What are you reading?” Daniel nudged Yang’s foot with his.

“Finally.” Yang looked up, wearing his sardonic smile and wearing it well. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask. You’ve been eyeing the book for the last five minutes.”

Daniel gave Yang his best I-would-never look. “I have not.”

“Yes you have,” Poppy chimed in, her voice flat. She yawned and stretched like a cat. “All that angsty energy was ruining my nap.”

“Sorry, go back to sleep, Princess,” Daniel said, knowing the title annoyed the living hell out of Poppy. He smiled as she responded with the middle finger.

“Guess I’m not sharing my snacks.” She shrugged as she shook a bag of prawn crackers in front of Daniel, slapping his hand away when he reached for it. Daniel gave Yang a wounded look, only to be met with an amused smile, like the pair of them were something to be figured out.

“Now, will you tell me about your book?” Daniel asked.

“It’s not mine, exactly.” Yang handed him the paperback. “It used to belong to my mom. And before her, someone else. She loved buying books from secondhand bookstores, especially the ones with inscriptions. My dad hasn’t cleared her bookcase, so every time I visit Xi’an, I take a few back to Beijing with me to read.”

Knowing the book had belonged to Yang’s mom made it feel much heavier in Daniel’s hands. Carefully, he flipped through it, landing on the familiar bookmark. With his finger, Daniel traced the serpentine outline of the Great Wall, fighting back the urge to smile like an idiot. On the title page was an inscription, a line of neat Chinese characters written in faded ink.

“What does this say?” Daniel turned the page toward Yang.

“In the end, they were free,” Yang answered without hesitation, as if the words had long been etched into his memory.

That piqued Poppy’s interest. Leaning over, she motioned for Daniel to show her the cover.

“Liang Zhu. The Butterfly Lovers.” Her eyes lit up in recognition. “It’s like Romeo and Juliet, but Chinese, with more divine intervention and a happy-ish ending.”

“Have you read it?” Yang asked, a polite smile on his lips.

“Will one of you just tell the story already?” Daniel asked. He wanted them to keep talking. Now that they were all traveling together, he didn’t want either one of them to feel like the third wheel. Admittedly, he was more worried about Yang than Poppy. His best friend exuded main-character energy and would never be the odd woman out in any setting.

Poppy, having stuffed another prawn cracker in her mouth (and still not sharing), gestured for Yang to go for it.

“It’s a love story set in the Jin dynasty between Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. I’ll just call them Liang and Zhu for short. Zhu is the daughter to a wealthy family. Back then, women weren’t allowed to go to school—”