Xingyu was herded away a few moments later by hair and makeup. Weiran made himself comfortable in a folding seat he found, which he set up out of the way of the staff but still in full view of Xingyu and Xiaokai’s seats, and started scrolling through his phone.

“Five minutes until we’re back on!” someone hollered.

“Where’s Liu Xiaokai? We need to do some touch-ups.”

Weiran looked up.

“A-Wei, did you see Xiao-Xiao?” Xingyu was in front of him again, but wasn’t looking at Weiran. His gaze scanned the crowd, the stage, beyond Weiran behind the stage, then back to the crowd.

“No. Not after he went to the bathroom, anyway. He still hasn’t come back?”

Xingyu shook his head. His eyebrows knit together.

“Did you check the bathroom?”

“They already sent one of the staff to look for him.”

So that was a no. Weiran was starting to feel uneasy. “I’ll call him.” Xingyu had probably already tried that, but just in case—no answer. It rang as much as it could and then went to voicemail. “Well,” Weiran said, “maybe…” He couldn’t think of a good explanation. “He complained about the interview. Maybe he bailed?”

“He wouldn’t walk out in the middle. Once he sets his mind to something, he carries it out. He doesn’t change his mind halfway through. Call him again?”

Weiran called him again. Same result: it rang, it rang, it rang, and then to voicemail.

“President Liu!” One of the staff came running up to the both of them. He handed Xingyu a cell phone, sleek and black. “We found this in the bathroom. Is it—?”

Xingyu tapped the screen on. Liu Xingyu, (3) missed calls. Lao Zhang,25 (2) missed calls. It was Xiaokai’s phone.

29

THE PLUM BLOSSOM

LIU XIAOKAI HAD been washing his hands.

He had already finished all the business he had in the bathroom, and even got his hands mostly dry before the floor came rushing up at him. Had he passed out? No—there was a distinctly sharp pain in the back of his head. The only thought that was able to pass through his head before everything went dark was embarrassingly simple: it isn’t good to keep passing out like this.

He woke up in a hotel room.

It wasn’t the same hotel he always went to for his appointments. The structure of the room, the sheets, the carpet, the walls—none of it was familiar. But he could see the keycard lock on the door from where he was splayed out on the bed.