After a long moment, Lingyi said, “Feelings can complicate things. . . .”

Victor’s dark gaze slid to Lingyi, and she opened her mouth as if to say more, then clamped it shut again. “Victor, if you want to talk—”

He gave a nonchalant flip of his hand. “No. I don’t want to talk. You’re the boss.” Vic flashed Lingyi a charming smile and winked. “But you should respect Zhou’s choice. He knows what he’s doing.”

Do I?

I shrugged and kept my face smooth. “Whatever. It’s over.”

I proceeded to ignore Daiyu’s calls and messages to me in the next few days, chucking my Vox onto the bed each time and shoving a pillow over it—annoyed with myself over how much I did want to talk to her.

How much I missed her.

•  •  •

The next day, Arun messaged me via Vox: Bad situation. Headquarters now.

I left the 101 by the back exit, the one used by celebrities to dodge paparazzi. But I used it to avoid having people wonder why I was leaving without my suit on. I couldn’t go to headquarters suited as a you boy—it’d draw too much attention.

The crowds were thin this morning. Another dozen meis had died in the past three days from the new super avian flu strain that had yet to be officially identified by our media. Experts reassured the public that although the fatality rate was higher than normal, most deaths happened to those who were already suffering from secondary illnesses or had seriously compromised immune systems. Instead of just normally compromised immune systems, downplaying the fact that it was airborne among the meis living in hovels and on the streets. They failed to notify the public that this flu had already spread among young and healthy meis, and they were dying too.

But the undernet was humming with the news and speculating on government conspiracies, keeping tally of their own death count.

I thrust my hands into my leather jacket, not meeting anyone’s eyes in the gray haze that blanketed our city. Despite the face mask I had strapped on, the reek of petrol and automobile fumes still suffused my every drawn breath. I was relieved to turn onto our headquarters’ empty street, to get away from the pedestrians drifting through the sidewalks with hacking coughs, the honking of taxis, and the loud noise of mopeds.

I knocked on our headquarters’ worn wooden door and it unbolted without Lingyi answering, filling me with unease. I stepped inside, and the heavy door whirred shut. My stomach clenched at the scene before me. Iris and Lingyi were laid side by side on makeshift beds in the sitting area, reminding me of corpses. Both girls were pale, with bright spots on their cheeks—the only reason I knew that they weren’t actually dead.

They’d caught the super avian flu strain.