“Yes. We’re worried something might have happened to him. Even if you can’t tell us where he usually goes, could you check those places just to be sure?”

He Peilin sighed. “I’ll check his usual places. If he left without telling you, keep an eye on the news. There might be something there.”

“The news? Why?”

“Just a hunch. I’ll let you know if I find him, but if he doesn’t want to come back…”

“I understand. We just want to know whether he’s okay.” Weiran hung up and handed the phone back to Xingyu, who was giving him a sour look. “What?”

“Xiaokai wouldn’t just leave us like that without telling either of us.”

“I know. But he also hates telling people when he’s hurt. If he’s injured and he doesn’t want us to see, he’ll wait until he’s a little better before coming back.”

“So you’re the resident expert on Xiao-Xiao now?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” Weiran dropped back onto the couch, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “I’m worried about him too,” he said. “But if I keep wondering if he’s getting hurt, if he is hurt, if he can’t get away…I’d go crazy.”

Xingyu sighed, and then the couch cushions next to Weiran were dipping down from Xingyu’s weight and Xingyu was dropping his head onto Weiran’s shoulder. “What if Bai Xue has him?”

Weiran was too afraid to answer that question. He was too afraid to even think about the answer. “Get some rest,” he said instead. “People are looking for him. He’ll be found soon.”

But a week passed like that. January ended. No word from Xiao-Xiao. Despite what He Peilin said, there wasn’t anything on the news either. He contacted Xingyu daily with updates, but every update was the same: no news yet. Still looking.

In another part of the city, the man who went by Bai Xue was driving down the road, his hands gripping at his steering wheel, a thin sheen of sweat at his brow. He already missed his Mei Hua, missed his soft hands, his mouth—but no, no, he needed to pay attention to what was in front of him now. He had plans. He was capable, was intelligent. He’d been the leader of the List for many years. With everything he had to offer, there was no way he would get turned down. Mei Hua turned him down, but he didn’t know any better, he wasn’t in his right mind.

Bai Xue’s hands curled tighter around the steering wheel.

His Mei Hua, his Mei Hua, his pretty Mei Hua…

His pretty Mei Hua…