Squaring my shoulders, I plunged into the thick throng of sweating bodies and saw the redhead Daiyu had been speaking with. She was half-turned from me, and I caught her arm; she shifted, an annoyed look on her face, until she glanced up. Then she smiled. “Why, hello,” she said, and caressed my cuff, trailing her fingers across my inner wrist.

I resisted the urge to jerk my hand away and gave her a lazy grin instead. Girls had always shown interest in me on the streets, but they had never touched me so casually, as if I were an object to be acquired. But I supposed I’d started it. Blood rushed to my head, pulsing in time to the music.

“What’s your name?” she shouted above the beat, but I could still hear the husky note of her voice.

It was the redhead that I had seen in the silver limo months ago. She wore a crimson silk halter dress, the neckline plunging to her navel. Deep purple lotuses were tattooed above her chest, nestled beneath the arches of her clavicles. I stared at the elaborate tattoos, and she touched a fingertip to one of the buds painted right above the swell of her breast, drawing my eyes there. I let myself take in the view, feeling uncomfortably hot, before my gaze returned to her face.

Her lips were as red as I remembered, and she pursed them before they curved in a knowing smile. “Wait. Do I know you?”

A spike of panic.

Then I smiled back. “I’ve never had the pleasure.” I extended my hand. “I’m Jason.”

She clasped my fingers, amused by my formality. “Angela.” Her hand was warm, and she didn’t let go of mine when she said, “What’s your surname? How is it that I’ve never met you before?”

“Zhou,” I said. “Jason Zhou. I just arrived from California.” I said the state name in English. “I’m new to the city.”

“Well,” Angela said. “Welcome to Taipei, Jason Zhou. Let’s dance!” She tugged at my hand, walking backward onto the dance floor. People cleared a path for her, as if she were some kind of siren, until we were near the middle, almost directly under the DJ’s dais.