He scans the area. “Well, it doesn’t look like there’s a second sacred fountain up here.”

“Okay, give me a second.” I pat my pockets for spare change. I only have one coin, but it’s enough. Once the couple has left, I take their place by the edge of the fountain, feeling the smooth, cool surface of the coin against my palm. I’ve never really been the kind of person to visit temples or even to meditate, and as I force my eyes to close, mimicking the girl from earlier, I feel a spasm of self-consciousness, certain that I’m doing it wrong, that I look stupid, that I’m about to be made fun of. Sometimes it feels like there’s an invisible comment section floating around in my brain, and with every mistake I make, every wrong thing I say, these imaginary spectators who vaguely resemble my classmates from my old schools flock forward to pass judgment …

Who does she think she is?

Why is she holding the coin like that? She’s so weird.

She’s closing her eyes? Who closes their eyes, except to sleep? I’m just embarrassed for her at this point.

Does she actually believe that praying to a fountain will do anything for her cousin’s marriage?

Oh my god, look at her—she’s so out of place. She literally has no idea what she’s doing …

But then the seconds pass, and the rising wind drowns out the voices, and a strange sense of peace envelops me. It’s like I’m suddenly aware of everything that exists outside my face and body: There’s the air moving soft around me, pressing the silk of my shirt closer to my skin, and the steady trickle of water, and the patter of claws on stone, an animal slinking into the wilderness, the damp touch of dew, and when I breathe in it feels like I’m breathing for the first time in years.

Please, bless my cousin’s marriage again, I pray, the Mandarin words coming slowly to me. Undo whatever bad luck I might’ve accidentally cursed her with at the wedding.

I’m still not wholeheartedly convinced that the fountain could help me with anything, or that the Mandarin words I chose were exactly the right ones, but I feel lighter as I let my coin sink into the water.

When I open my eyes, Cyrus is waiting behind me.

“I want to make a wish too,” he explains, holding up a coin of his own.

“What are you wishing for? A glowing letter of recommendation from my aunt?”

He scoffs. “I don’t need to wish for that. I’m going to make it happen.”