Although rich, they had never gotten suited. Lingyi had told me when we first met that her father detested Jin Corp and everything it represented. The tech sites were abuzz when he had refused to revamp or manage Jin Corp’s security system despite a multimillion-dollar bid. Not a few months later, his past as the “xiaoshu” hacker was leaked. In retrospect, it seemed eerily coincidental, and I know that same thought must have crossed Lingyi’s mind. What would her father think of our plans now? Lingyi had chosen to stay so she could finish high school with her friends, not knowing the decision would cut her off from her family. If she wanted to remain in Taiwan, she had to disassociate herself from her father’s infamy and scrutiny. But each day she watched Taipei—her city—deteriorate and crumble, and its people along with it. Soon, she’d often say, those only left living would be the bowl heads and roaches.

A sudden knock caused everyone to jump. Both Victor and Arun’s hands went to where their tasers were. I preferred knives but took my cue from Lingyi’s relaxed posture. “It’s only Iris.” She went to one of the two large windows covered in steel shutters and unbolted it, then pulled it open. “She does this when she wants to show off,” Lingyi said over her shoulder.

Sure enough, Iris pushed through and climbed into our headquarters, located three stories up. To scale that height was probably child’s play to Iris. I’d been bouldering for two years on Yangmingshan and had recently started indoor rock climbing but could never scale our building without equipment. Iris straightened, and ran a hand through her cropped hair, shorter than mine and bleached a platinum blond. She was Taiwanese-born and Asian, although her exact background was unknown.

“I heard that,” she said.

Dressed in black cargo pants and a tank top that showed the lean muscles of her arms, she looked like she had stepped off the set of an action film. Iris smiled, and Lingyi’s face softened. Then Lingyi grinned back. “We just ate, but there’s plenty left over.”

“I’m starving.” Iris settled beside Victor at the table and thanked Lingyi when she brought her a large bowl of rice, the tofu still steaming. “You’re a goddess,” she murmured and grabbed Lingyi’s hand, pressing it reverently to her cheek. Lingyi laughed.

Iris’s entrance had broken the serious discussion we had been having, and everyone reverted to casual conversation as she ate, talking about the impending typhoon, where everyone would sleep in the headquarters that night, and what we should make for breakfast. That was mainly Lingyi and Victor, setting the next morning’s menu.