Zhi Li gave him the tiniest, numb shake of her head, still trying to catch her breath.

She stepped through the door, felt Qi let it close behind her.

Her heels clinked on the cold marble of the lobby.

Bo Jintao was ahead, his back to her, walking away, flanked by his aides and his guards. He was leaving. She had to rescue this moment.

She moved faster. Lu Song clutched at her hand, holding her back. She twisted free, surged ahead. She had to make her apology.

Premier Bo! She tried to say. It wouldn’t come.

Closer. She was closer.

She raised her hands, stretched them both out ahead of her to beseech, striding faster, cursing these heels, this dress.

“Premier Bo!” the words ripped free of her throat, and he turned, stopping.

His face was cold indifference.

Her striding foot caught the hem of her gown, the stupid gown, and then she was falling, her hands outstretched now ahead of her, to ward away the cold marble floor that was racing at her so fast.

Pain. Her wrist. Her knee. Her mouth. The world swam.

“Zhi Li!” she heard Lu Song say.

She was on the floor. What?

She’d fallen.

She looked up, saw a hand reach out to her, palm up. A man’s hand, a young man’s. The aide.

“Tssk.” Another hand appeared, older, lined. A slight wave of a finger, and the offered hand withdrew.

Bo Jintao.

“Zhi!” Lu Song cried her name from just behind her. Her lover, about to come to her aid.

The rest of Bo Jintao swam into view above her. He gestured again with one hand, as if waving away an insect. She sensed sudden motion, heard deep voices she didn’t know behind her. Then Lu Song’s voice made plaintive sounds. Her lover did not appear to help her up.

Fear constricted Zhi Li’s chest. There was a taste of blood on her tongue, sharp and metallic.

She opened her mouth, searching for the most sincere apology she could find.

Bo Jintao spoke first, “You have a very clever way with your words,” he said, his voice light, almost jovial.

“Minister Bo,” she started, her breath short. “Premier…”

He cut her off, his tone darker now. “You’re a prominent person. That gives you certain responsibilities.” his voice was low, dangerous. He loomed above her. She was panting, her heart pounding.

Somewhere behind her, Lu Song’s voice made more plaintive sounds, like an animal, barred from the one it loves.

“Do you think stirring up discord is a good idea?” Bo Jintao paused. “Do you think that’s a good use of your popularity? A responsible way to behave for someone who millions adore?”

She had no idea what to say, what to do. She just stared up at him, one hand slowly rising to her mouth, the metallic taste still flowing onto her tongue. Terror gripped her.