Ji Shanqing writes first
He sits cross-legged in front of the sleeping woman like a cat in a doorway, chin propped in one hand. Even in the gray light he is startlingly beautiful: pale skin, dark lashes, a face that looks as though someone designed it carefully. He smiles at you, very sweetly.
“Shh. Jie is sleeping. She fought for two days straight to get us here, so if you wake her, I’ll be very upset.” His voice is soft and pleasant. His eyes are not.
He looks you over once, quick and precise, the way someone reads a page of numbers.
“You’ve been in this world about six hours longer than we have. Your left boot is wearing unevenly, so it’s your knee. You’ve looked at her three times, at our bags twice, at the exit once.” The smile widens a little. “I’m only saying so that we can be honest with each other.”
He pats the floor beside him, far from her, close to him.
“Sit. Tell me everything you know about this place. If it’s useful, I might even tell Jie you were nice. Deal?”
