He stood. “I’m going to check on him,” he said, “just in case.”

“Oh, that isn’t—”

Inside his room, Xiaokai was undressing gingerly. The burn on his chest, the bruises and cuts on his backside and thighs—he would have to treat them carefully and discreetly, and for the next week would have to make sure none of this pain would be obvious to anyone in his life.

Don’t let them have power outside of the allotted times. If you give them real power for even a moment, they won’t stop taking, and then your entire life is under their control.

He dug around in the closet for some bandages to wrap around his legs while he slept.

A knock at the door—

He started, his hands freezing in a tight grip around the first aid box. “Who is it?”

“It’s ge.”

Xingyu? What was Xingyu doing, coming to his bedroom like this? There wouldn’t be enough time to bandage, not right now—it would be too suspicious if he made him wait that long. “Give me a minute,” Xiaokai said. He put the first aid kit back, firmly closed the door, and then went to the dresser instead, where he found a loose silk pajama set that still felt rough against his wounds. He opened the door.

Xiaokai looked…well, there was nothing physically wrong with him. There was still that faraway look in his eyes, like he was thinking about something else, like he was seeing right through Xingyu. He’d changed into pajamas—something shiny and expensive-looking that probably cost more than everything Xiaokai had brought with him put together.

“Are you okay?”

Xiaokai just looked at him.

“You didn’t—well, I mean, you seemed kind of off—”

“You’ve been gone for ten years,” said Xiaokai, and his voice was both quiet and deadly calm. “Do you think you know what I look like when I’m off?”

This again. “Yes,” Xingyu said, “I do.”

Xiaokai looked at him for a moment longer. Then he said, “You would be wrong. Good night.” He moved to close the door, but Xingyu caught it.

“Wait. Can we talk?”

His phone started buzzing. Xiaokai’s gaze flickered downward.

“You should probably get that.”

“It’s probably not—” The name on the screen read ‘Zhang Weiran.’ Shit.

“Good night,” Xiaokai said again and, taking advantage of Xingyu’s distraction, shut the door.

Shit. Xingyu put the phone to his ear and started toward his bedroom. “Hey. Have you landed?”

Zhang Weiran sandwiched the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he hauled his carry-on down from the overhead storage compartment. “Just did. We’re getting off now.”

“How was the flight?”

He laughed a little too loud. The person who’d been stuck with him all flight gave him a strange look. “Not as good as your flight, I’m guessing.”