Kai woke up the way a person wakes after being dragged through a long night. For a moment he did not know where he was. He stared at the ceiling with its water stain shaped like a crooked heart and blinked until the smell of dust and old tea grounded him.
Then he saw Lian.
She sat near the window with her knees pulled up, hands resting around a mug she had scavenged from a cabinet full of mismatched cups. She was drinking something that looked like tea and tasted, he suspected, like regret.
Lian glanced at him. “You are awake.”
He pushed himself upright. “How long did I sleep?”
“A few hours.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I thought you were going to sleep too.”
“I did not feel like it.”
He gave her a small, knowing look. “You mean you stayed awake to watch the door.”
She shrugged but did not deny it. “You were tired.”
Kai stretched his legs out, then winced when his muscles complained. “Did you finish the relay?”
“It works,” Lian said. “Probably.”
He groaned. “Probably is not what I like to hear.”
“I followed your notes.”
“That is what worries me.”
She smiled faintly. It was small, but it was real. Kai felt tension leave his shoulders. Seeing her relaxed even a little always calmed him.
He stood and crossed to the sink. The faucet whined when he turned it, spitting cold water. He splashed his face and stared at his reflection in the cracked mirror. Dark circles. A split lip. Nothing unusual.
But he could still feel the echo of the fight in the warehouse. The moment when everything narrowed to pure instinct. He pushed the thought away before it dragged him back.
Behind him Lian said, “There is something we need to do before we leave.”
Kai grabbed a towel. “What is it?”
She lifted a small metal box from the table. It was old and rusting, a former tea tin someone had turned into a storage container. She had found it the night before but waited until he was awake to bring it up.
Kai frowned. “What is that?”
“You should see.”
He walked over and sat beside her. She opened the tin. Inside were photographs, notes, and a few pieces of jewelry. All tucked away neatly, wrapped in tissue.
Kai picked up one of the photographs. A young couple stood in front of an old convenience store in Shek Kip Mei. The woman was holding a baby wrapped in a yellow blanket.
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Lian said quietly, “The friend who used to live here. These belonged to his family.”
Kai held the photo closer. “So this was his child.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed. “You think they died here?”
“No. He told me once that he moved them to the countryside when things got dangerous. He wanted them far away from Hong Kong.”
“Did they make it?”
“I do not know.”
Kai placed the photo back inside the tin. His fingers felt heavier than normal. “Why keep this here? Why not take it with him?”
Lian looked out the window for a moment before answering. “Maybe he thought he would return for it. Maybe he thought he had more time.”
Kai understood too well. Life on the run meant leaving pieces of yourself behind in strange rooms. Sometimes forever.
He reached into the tin again and pulled out a silver necklace with a small jade pendant. It was cracked down the center but still whole.
“Do you think we should try to find them?” he asked.
Lian watched him closely. “You want to.”
“I am just thinking. If they survived, maybe it matters.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But we have to survive first.”
He nodded and placed the necklace back inside. They closed the box together and set it back on the table.
For a while neither spoke. The air in the apartment felt thick, as if holding the stories of everyone who had passed through. The city outside was waking up slowly. A food cart rattled somewhere below. Someone shouted something about prices. A taxi honked at nothing.
Kai finally said, “We should eat before we go.”
“There are instant noodles in the cabinet,” Lian replied. “And dried mushrooms.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It is what we have.”
Kai sighed and stood. He moved into the small kitchen nook and started boiling water. He found two chipped bowls and poured the noodles in with the elegance of someone who had lived on cheap meals for years.
Lian joined him, leaning against the counter. “You look better,” she said.
He lifted a brow. “You mean less like a corpse.”
“Something like that.”
“I still feel tired.”
“That is allowed.”
He stirred the noodles, then said, “Thank you. For last night.”
Lian tilted her head slightly. “For what.”
“For not telling me I was being dramatic.”
Her lips curved. “You were being dramatic.”
“I knew it.”
“But you were also being honest,” she added. “And I respect that.”
Kai blinked. “You respect something.”
“Do not get used to it.”
Kai laughed under his breath and handed her a bowl. They sat on the floor again because the only chair in the apartment looked like it would collapse if anyone breathed near it.
They ate quietly, sharing the kind of silence that never felt uncomfortable. The noodles tasted as mediocre as expected, but the warmth helped clear the last haze of sleep from Kai’s mind.
When they finished, Kai set his bowl aside and took a breath. “What is our next move?”
Lian wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “We look for whoever led the warehouse team.”
“You think we can track him?”
“Yes,” she said. “And I think he expected to walk away clean. I want to see if he left prints on anything.”
“Digital or physical?”
“Either.”
Kai reached for his pack and started assembling his gear. “Then we should check the perimeter cameras two blocks out. The city ones and the private ones. Someone caught something.”
“Yes,” Lian agreed. “And we should move soon. This apartment is safe for a night but not longer.”
Kai stood and slung his pack over his shoulder. “I will wipe our traces before we leave.”
Lian walked to the window and looked down at the street. The morning light made the city look softer than it deserved. She pulled her jacket on.
“Ready?” she asked.
Kai nodded. “Ready.”
They left the apartment without looking back.
