Kai woke up to the sound of the ceiling fan rattling like it was about to tear loose and launch itself across the room. For a second he didn’t remember where they were. Then he smelled the cheap detergent from the hostel sheets and saw Lian sitting on the windowsill, legs pulled up, hair tied in a messy knot that looked like it had been done in the dark. She was staring out at the alleyway below, where early-morning delivery trucks were already arguing with each other in Cantonese.
Kai rubbed his eyes.
“You didn’t sleep.”
Lian didn’t look away from the window. “I slept. For maybe twenty minutes.”
“So… no. You didn’t.”
She didn’t argue, which meant he was right.
He pushed himself upright, wincing at the bruise across his ribcage from the fight last night. “You’re thinking about him.”
At that, she actually turned. “I’m thinking about everything.”
Kai snorted. “That’s the same thing with you.”
But there was no heat in it. Last night had been messy. They had cornered the LSK fixer they’d been tracking for weeks, only for him to scream something about “unfinished business” right before Lian silenced him. And then they found the encrypted drive in his jacket. The one that had a list of names. People tied to old contracts. People tied to their past.
People tied to the day their family died.
Lian finally slid off the windowsill. She moved stiffly, like every muscle had opinions. “We should look at the drive again. Maybe we missed something.”
Kai held up a hand before she could fully switch into mission mode. “Can you breathe for two minutes first?”
Her jaw flexed. She didn’t like when he talked to her like that — gently, like he was the older one. But she didn’t snap. That was something.
He scooted toward the edge of the bed and patted the mattress. “Sit.”
“I’m not—”
“Lian.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically but sat anyway, arms crossed. Kai almost smiled; she had always been terrible at pretending she wasn’t exhausted.
For a moment, they just sat there. The room smelled faintly of instant noodles from the guests in the next unit. The fan kept making its dying-bird noise. Outside, someone slammed the lid of a metal trash bin.
It was all so ordinary. It made the weight in her expression stand out even more.
“You’re quiet,” Kai said softly.
“I’m fine,” she replied, automatically.
“That’s not an answer.”
She gave him a tired half-laugh. “You really want to do this now?”
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“You’re the one who looks like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
Lian stared down at her hands. “He deserved to die,” she said finally. “I’m not questioning that.”
“I know.”
“But he knew something. And I didn’t let him talk long enough.”
“Lian, he was reaching for his belt. There was a weapon.”
“That doesn’t matter. I should have handled it better.”
Kai leaned his shoulder into hers. “You always say that. But you made a call. And we’re alive because of it.”
She didn’t respond, which meant she was thinking too hard again.
So he nudged her lightly. “Hey. You’re not alone in this.”
Her voice was quiet. “I know. But it doesn’t feel like I’m allowed to mess up. Not when every lead we get gets us closer to the truth.”
He didn’t say anything right away. Because the truth? He felt that pressure too. Just in a different way. Lian carried the weight of every decision. Kai carried the fear that one day she’d break under it.
“Look,” he said finally, “I’m not saying forget it. I’m saying you should stop convincing yourself you failed when you didn’t.”
Lian let out a long, tired breath. “Maybe.”
Kai bumped her shoulder again. “There she goes — the famous Lian ‘maybe.’ That’s practically optimism.”
She gave him a look that was supposed to be annoyed but wasn’t. “You talk too much in the morning.”
“Only because it’s the only time you’re slow enough to listen.”
For a few seconds, the room felt lighter.
But then Lian straightened. Not cold — just focused. “Let’s read the drive again. With fresh eyes.”
Kai nodded. “Breakfast first.”
“We don’t have time.”
“Lian. It’s literally downstairs. Ten minutes. If you don’t eat, you’re going to pass out halfway through the decrypt.”
She hesitated. It wasn’t the food. It was the idea of stepping out into the world when she didn’t feel ready.
Kai softened his voice. “Come on. You taught me that you can’t do a hunt on an empty stomach.”
Her expression gave a tiny crack — the memory landing. “I said that to keep you from stealing energy drinks from the convenience store.”
“Still counts.”
Lian finally stood. “Fine. breakfast.”
They walked down the creaky stairs into the small, humid dining area of the hostel. A middle-aged woman was already setting out plastic trays of rice rolls and steamed buns. Kai grabbed two plates and piled food on both without asking.
Lian raised an eyebrow. “You’re feeding me now?”
“I’m keeping you from turning into a ghost.”
She ate slowly at first, like she wasn’t sure her body would accept food. Then halfway through her rice roll she let out a quiet, almost embarrassed sound.
Kai grinned. “Starving, aren’t you?”
“Shut up.”
They ate without talking for a few minutes. Then Kai leaned back and stretched. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, mouth half-full of bun, “we should check the timestamps on the drive. Maybe the names were added in waves. Maybe they line up with events.”
Lian swallowed her bite, nodding thoughtfully. “If that’s true, it could narrow down who handled the contract.”
“And maybe why they revived it.”
She paused. “You know… he did say something. Right before I—” She cut herself off. “He said it wasn’t finished.”
“Yeah.”
“I want to know what he meant. Even if it’s nothing.”
Kai pushed his empty plate away. “Then we’ll find out.”
They stood to leave. Lian picked up the trash automatically, like she always did, even here. Habit. Control. Something solid to hold.
When they reached the stairs, she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Kai?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
He didn’t make a joke this time. He just nodded.
“Always,” he said.
Then they went back upstairs, back to the little room with the blinking laptop and the encrypted drive waiting on the desk — the next step in a trail they weren’t sure they were ready for, but were going to follow anyway.
Together.
