Page 82 of From Beijing, With Love

“No, you chose wrong. You settled because you didn’t think you deserved better, and I am telling you that you do,” Poppy said with a conviction he didn’t know how to argue with, so he just kept on hugging her.

A part of him wanted to, really wanted to, believe it. If only his stupid brain would let him.

After Poppy left for the Terracotta Army tour, Daniel had the afternoon to himself to worry about his upcoming “date” at six o’clock. That was what Yang had called it—a date. The two of them had gone out countless times on this trip. In fact, Daniel’s entire journey in China was punctuated by Yang’s presence. But when Yang had kissed him under the willow tree on the very bench where Yang’s parents met, it felt like they had crossed an invisible line.

Or maybe it was all in his head. Maybe it wasn’t a real date; that was just an expression. Maybe it meant nothing at all.

He spent the next hour rotating through a dozen outfits. The dread that had woken him up at dawn followed him around like a shadow, making him worry about everything and anything. It was one of those days—a day that was better spent cocooning at home and letting his head run in circles on its own. But he wasn’t going to miss time with Yang.

In the end, he settled on an off-white crochet polo and sand-colored chino shorts. Looking at himself in the mirrored elevator door, he looked half decent, apart from the dark circles under his eyes.

“Sorry,” Daniel said as he jogged up to Yang in the hotel lobby. Leaning against the wooden counter lined with tourism brochures, Yang was in his usual white linen button-up with the sleeves rolled up. The top buttons were undone, exposing his collarbones.

“Sorry for what?” Yang asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I tried to be on time, because this is like a date and I wanted to … Sorry, I mean, it’s not a big deal if it’s not a real date.”

Oh god, he was rambling.

“It is … a real date. If that’s okay with you.” Yang’s cheeks grew pink as he talked.

“Yes, that’s … uh … very okay with me.” They were both blushing, and that made Daniel smile. “Where are we going today?”

He was equal parts nervous and excited about what Yang had planned.

Okay, maybe it was more like seventy/thirty.

“Since you love to bike, I’m taking you somewhere unique to bike.” Yang tossed Daniel a smile as he strode toward the door, a glint in his eyes.

A short cab ride later, Daniel was staring at a four-story-high defensive wall, its gray-brick facade smooth. It bore a resemblance to the Great Wall in Beijing, where his journey with Yang had first begun. But whereas the Great Wall meandered atop windy mountains in the green wilderness, this wall stood sentry in the middle of the bustling city. According to the map, the rectangular wall surrounded the historical quarter like a fence.

“Are we going to the Old City?” Daniel asked as Yang led him through the arched gateway. The tunnel through the wall was illuminated by the warm glow of red lanterns that dotted the interior like gleaming rubies.

“Not quite. We are going up,” Yang said as they walked out of the tunnel. The exit was flanked by two opposing sets of stairs, both leading to the top of the wall. “This won’t be like the Great Wall. Maybe better isn’t the right word. It’s just different.”

Daniel could think of at least one thing that was different as Yang tossed him a lopsided smile, making him forget all about the ache in his quads and how much he hated stairs.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he reached the top. Standing on the rampart, he looked in awe at the wall stretching out before him where red lanterns and gold-fringed flags dotted the parapets. “How long is the wall?”

“The whole loop is fourteen kilometers long. It’ll take us two hours to bike around the whole thing, but we can turn around whenever we feel like.” Yang pointed to the rows of rental bikes nearby, each one glossy red.

“Fourteen kilometers? I can do that in half an hour,” Daniel said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“It would be wildly irresponsible to bike that fast on a six-centuries-old wall. I’m not going to fish you out of the moat after you fall.”

Daniel surveyed the Old City without getting too close to the parapet, which only came up to his hips. Ample opportunity for a bike to tip over and go tumbling down onto the gray-tiled roofs nestled in bouquets of green treetops.

“I’m just kidding.” Yang bumped his shoulder against Daniel’s. “I thought you were good at this.”

“I am.” Daniel wasn’t about to have his biking skills challenged, not with the Dutch blood running through his veins.

As he mounted the rental bike, it groaned under his weight. The stiff saddle made him miss his rusty bike back home. With a seat perfectly molded to his ass and trusty pedal brakes, he could bike one-handed (or no-handed) while carrying groceries, holding an umbrella, or eating a saucijzenbroodje.

After fifteen minutes on the bike, the foot traffic disappeared, leaving the wide path to the few cyclists. They rode down the smooth stone tiles, the red lanterns swaying in the wind. Letting out a sigh, Daniel let himself relish the moment—the warmth of the low-hanging sun on his face, the breeze that carried the scent of the street food stalls below the wall, and Yang wobbling on the bike beside him.

“The soldiers were stationed in these sentry buildings.” Yang pointed to the two-story brick building at the bend of the path, his bike swerving the moment his hand was off the handlebar.

Daniel grabbed hold of Yang’s bike, stabilizing it. “Easy there, Mr. Tour Guide.”