He might actually be right, I conclude as I look around the ferry at the other teams: Oliver, who’s eagerly waving Daisy over to take photos of him pinching the Oriental Pearl Tower as if he’s a city-sized monster; Lydia, who can be heard very clearly saying, “Make sure we complete these fifty practice papers every day, and memorize this map of Shanghai …” to her teammate, who’s taking slow steps away from her the way you would from a bear in the wild; Sean, who’s dozed off so close to the edge of the ferry I’m concerned he’s about to fall into the river.

With Cyrus there to help, my odds of winning the competition will increase exponentially. If we do win, I’ll finally be able to prove to my aunt—and to myself—that I’m more than just her uncultured niece who ruined her daughter’s wedding. For a few seconds, I let myself imagine the shock on her stern, ageless face when she sees me delivering a speech in Chinese at the afternoon tea event.

And being on Cyrus’s team means I’ll have more opportunities to uncover and exploit his weaknesses. Better to have your enemies closer and all that, especially if you want to steal their heart in order to break it.

“All right,” I say. “Let’s do this.”

He simply nods, expressionless, then leans his head against the window, his back turned to me. But in the reflection spilling over the dark glass, I think I see the faintest of smiles tug at his lips.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Wow, I can tell you’ve got a lot on your plate, Leah.”

Oliver doubles over laughing at his own joke, almost knocking into the elderly woman trying to squeeze her way through to the bamboo steamers behind him. Even though it’s only been open for half an hour, the breakfast buffet is already swarming with people. Tourists and smart-looking businesswomen and students from our own group wander between all the different counters, opening and shutting the large metal lids, reaching awkwardly around one another for the tongs while balancing their half-filled plates.

I give Oliver an unimpressed look as I follow him over to our table for four by the floor-to-ceiling windows. There are more diners seated on the outdoor patio under the pale, sleepy sunlight. One man in the corner is alternating between long puffs of his cigarette and bites of his cucumber salad. “That’s hilarious,” I tell Oliver. “You’re hilarious.”