“We used to be best friends before that. But after that—and he could hear Ba saying that I’d done this to him—it didn’t matter whether I’d wanted to or not. I’d chosen Ba over him, and he never forgot it. One day he was coming to me after his nightmares and hiding underneath my covers, and then the next he wanted nothing to do with me. I think leaving to study abroad was the last straw for him. I thought he would be okay since Ba didn’t care about him, but I think it was the ultimate betrayal for him, leaving him all alone with them while I got to be free.”

Weiran pressed the back of his mouth to his hand. “I’m going to throw up. I can’t believe I said that to him.”

“It wasn’t your fault. All I’d told you was that Ba had mistreated me. I didn’t tell you anything that I’d done to him. He’s probably more upset with me than he is with you.”

Weiran just kneeled right where he’d been staying and groaned. “How long ago was this?”

“I was twelve.”

“Your dad was making you learn how to kill people when you were twelve?”

“Ba was making me kill people when I was twelve. Not all of my tests were just practice.”

Weiran swore. “You mean this isn’t your first time?”

“No.” Xingyu knew this wasn’t losing Weiran in the cause—no matter what, Weiran would still finish what they started out to do. He was losing Weiran in a different sense, and he had no idea how to stop it, nor did he know if he should stop it. “Look, I think we should call Xiao-Xiao back. He’s probably just wandered to the bar.”

“Since when does Xiaokai drink?”

“I think he just started. Which is why we need to get him back as soon as possible.” Xingyu dug around for his phone. Xiao-Xiao would be more likely to answer a call from him—he probably offended him the least today, considering. “We need to—”

“So he was six.”

Xingyu found his phone. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Xingyu looked at him for a minute—the absolute devastation on his face, the sweat gathering at his brow. “Now you understand why he’s never forgiven me, and why I’ve never pressed him to forgive me.”

“Was it hard?”

Xingyu’s finger hovered over the call button. “What part?”

“Killing your dad.”

“No.” He pressed call, let it ring twice. “Xiao-Xiao wasn’t lying when he said committing patricide was a dream of mine.”