Xiao-Xiao looked at him for a moment, then looked at the camera in the corner, then at the two secretaries. When he turned back to Xingyu, he’d angled his face just enough that his mouth wasn’t visible from any of these eyes, and even then he barely moved his lips. “Is your friend still in the city?”

Xingyu was a little startled. Weiran? He was asking about Weiran? “I…yes.” He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to answer this without the people behind the cameras or one of the secretaries noticing something strange. If anyone discovered Weiran’s identity, of course they were prepared with an excuse as to why he was still in the city; he was still looking for other galleries to display his art, he was wanting to do some more sightseeing, and so on—but if Xiao-Xiao was making all these efforts to hide even Weiran’s existence… “How much do you know about the art scene?”

Xiao-Xiao tilted his head again.

“I guess the city’s art scene is pretty good. But it’s hard to get into.”

Understanding flickered behind Xiao-Xiao’s eyes—Xingyu could at least understand that much about his younger brother. “It’s better to get out of a situation like that before they’ve thrown their whole life away, do you think?”

Xingyu felt a tiny shiver at the base of his spine. Weiran still didn’t trust Xiao-Xiao enough to share everything that was going on—and even if he was fine with it, they were being watched by far too many eyes—but Xingyu wanted so badly to be at least honest with his brother, enough to get him away from this situation. Honest enough to get him to understand how dangerous this was. How quickly everything would go downhill once it really started. How easily he would get caught up in it. He said, “Some things are more important.”

Xiao-Xiao looked at him for another long moment. Where Xingyu was once able to read the expressions behind his eyes, he’d lost the ability at some point. He no longer knew his brother. He no longer understood him.

“Xiao-Xiao—” Xingyu started, but Xiao-Xiao turned then and spoke over his shoulder.

“I’ll be done in ten minutes.”

If Xingyu was capable of feeling anxiety, he was certain it would have kicked in as soon as Ba opened his office door and Xiao-Xiao disappeared into it. There was no reason to be concerned, really—he’d still not seen any kind of evidence that Ba had ever hurt Xiao-Xiao even close to the level that he’d hurt Xingyu—but it was still…well, again, if Xingyu could feel anxious—if he was physically capable of it—this entire thing would be nerve-wracking.

He waited.

And waited.