“Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell Xingyu.” Xiaokai combed through his wet hair with his fingers again and checked himself in the mirror, as if he’d ever looked anything other than perfect. “Though I recommend, next time you want to hire a whore, don’t go through the List, and definitely don’t use Xingyu’s identity again or they’ll kill you.”

Weiran really was going to throw up. “Don’t you—aren’t you worried that I’m going to tell Xingyu?”

Xiaokai’s movements paused. He wet his lips. Then he looked at Weiran, and Weiran saw absolutely nothing readable in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “He might not know now, but once Liu Baiyan gives him control over the company, he’s going to know everything. Tell him now, tell him then…either way, he’ll find out. This was never supposed to be a secret from him anyway. He just left before Liu Baiyan got the chance to tell him.”

“Xiaokai—”

“Like I said.” Xiaokai took the door handle and pulled it open. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black key card identical to the one Weiran had and tossed it over—five two zero. “You can stay here as long as you need. I’ll front the bill. And don’t worry about the sheets—I didn’t do anything too terrible on them.”

“YOU WENT TO the meeting?”

Xiaokai opened the cabinet and found the bottle of pain medication, which he took into his hand slow enough that it didn’t rattle. “Yes.”

Sun Yue’s voice came from the phone he’d left on the counter: “And?”

“Nothing to be concerned about.” He twisted open the lid and dumped a handful into his palm. “Just a civilian who wanted to sleep with someone more high-end without having to pay for it. He probably heard about Xingyu’s return on the news and took advantage of it while he could.”

“So you’ve taken care of the problem.”

“I’ve taken care of it.”

“And your medication?”

Xiaokai stared at the pills in his hand. He was so tired. His head hurt. He just wanted to sleep.

“Xiaokai.”

“I’ve been taking it.” He dumped all but two pills back into the bottle and swallowed them dry. “I always take it.”

11

THE OBSTACLE

LIU XINGYU’S FINGERS were tracing over his bottom lip, back and forth, as he thought. Between them, two lattes were getting cold in the morning air, but Weiran didn’t have the courage to move, to take one, to bring it up to his mouth, to drink it. He’d had a sour taste in his mouth for the last day and a half, and looking at Xingyu wasn’t helping at all. Even thinking about him made his imagination wander—did Xingyu look like Xiaokai? Did he—

“You’re sure they know?”