Mid-laugh, I felt a rush of wind, heard a loud thud, and felt Andrew’s warmth disappear.

People around us shrieked. Everything felt slow and fuzzy and my head buzzed and swirled, dizziness overtaking me. Arms and other limbs surrounded me. I fell to the floor. It wasn’t until I blinked a few times that I put two and two together: Hongbo had thrown a punch at Andrew.

I was shrieking his name before I’d fully processed everything. At the Kuos’ instructions, servants grabbed Andrew and the rest of my family and deposited us on the lawn. The front door opened and closed and someone threw a bag of frozen wontons at us, which Andrew scooped up and placed over his eye.

I tried to ask if he was okay, but my mother was screaming at me.

“Jing-Jing, how could you?! Our miànzi! Tiān āh! What were you thinking?!”

My dad clutched his chest, and my mother rushed over to him.

“Are you guys okay?” I asked, staying by Andrew but also worried about my dad now.

“I’m fine,” Andrew said quickly.

“No one cares!” my mother yelled.

“Lǎo Pó, I don’t feel well,” my father said, his voice shaky.

“Bā, are you sick? Is something wrong?” I hurried to his side.

“Let’s get him home,” my mother said softly, and the fact that she stopped yelling and completely focused on my father confirmed my worst fears: he was sick.

But now wasn’t the time to ask questions.

At home, my mother settled my father in bed, and I tried to make Andrew comfortable on the couch as he sprawled out, an ice pack wrapped in a paper towel against his eye. He kept insisting he was fine, but I felt awful.

I sat on the edge of the cushion near his waist.

“Are you okay?” I asked him for the eleventy-fifth time. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

“I’m not. You were brilliant!” He let out a mini whoop, then grimaced in pain.

The consequences of what I’d done were still sinking in, slowly, in waves. “My parents are going to be so pissed at me.” I’d escaped their wrath thus far only because of my father’s health, which sent a different wave of panic through me. “And I got you punched in the face,” I added apologetically, reaching a hesitant hand up to hover near his injury.

“So many firsts with you,” he joked. “Seriously, though, you were inspiring tonight. Going after what you want, fighting—it was fucking amazing.”

Then why didn’t it feel amazing?