IT HAD BEEN a full day already. The interview had wrapped up early; initially the host wanted to make some kind of excuse about how Liu Xiaokai was a busy young man and had to go off to do business, but beyond being a ridiculous excuse—Liu Xingyu was the president, why would Liu Xiaokai be busier than him?—finishing the interview was the last thing on Xingyu’s mind. He brushed off any of the desperate suggestions she gave him, grabbed Weiran by the arm, and dragged him out. They’d already called the police, already made the reports, and for every waking moment Xingyu had been making phone calls to all of the people of Liu Incorporated, imploring them to comb the city for Xiaokai. There was still no progress.

Xingyu and Weiran were both exhausted, but it wasn’t until well into the next day, over twenty-four hours after Xiaokai first disappeared, that the two of them both passed out against each other on the couch in between phone calls. A half hour later, though, Weiran was jolting awake and shaking Xingyu by the shoulder.

“Hey. Wake up.”

Xingyu was awake immediately, totally alert. “What? What is it?”

“Do you know how to contact Xiaokai’s driver?”

“His driver? Why?”

“I just thought—if anyone knows his habits or where he’d go if he was hurt, it would be him.”

“I—yes, I’ll ask around for his information. Give me a moment.” He rubbed at his eyes one more time and then picked up his phone. Getting the information took five minutes, and then he was dialing in the phone number he got and calling the driver. “Hello. This is Liu Xingyu. I need you to take me to wherever—what?” A pause. Xingyu got an incredulous look on his face and looked at Weiran, who mouthed “What?” at him. “No, did you hear who I am? Liu Xingyu. President Liu Xingyu. Your employer. No, as his superior, I am—”

“What is he saying?”

The phone dropped from Xingyu’s ear, but Weiran could tell it was still connected. “He’s saying he doesn’t take orders from anyone but Xiao-Xiao.”

“Give me the phone.”

“If he won’t listen to me, then why would he listen to—”

Weiran just took the phone. “Hello. This is Liu Xiaokai’s driver?”

A long pause. Then: “My name is He Peilin. And I’ve already explained to President Liu that I only work for Director Liu, not anyone else. I don’t care about titles. I don’t care how much you pull rank.”

“That’s fine. My name is Zhang Weiran. I’m a friend of Xiao—”

“I know who you are.”

“Xiaokai’s been missing for a day now. Do you know where he is?”

“Missing?”

“We wanted to know where he goes when he wants to be alone. If he was hurt, where would he go?”

“You’re trying to find him?”