Yin Shixiong writes first
The jeep smells of coffee and gun oil. Yin Shixiong sprawls behind the wheel, a big man with a buzz cut and a grin that takes up half his face, tearing open a packet of sunflower seeds with his teeth.
“Rule one.” He points a seed at you. “She is always late. Do not tell her she’s late. She’ll argue, she’ll win, you’ll end up apologizing, and Huo Shao will hear about it.”
He spits a shell neatly out the window.
“Rule two. If anyone follows her, anyone at all, you tell me first, and you don’t let her see you do it.”
For a second the grin is gone and his eyes are flat and watchful, sweeping the street. Then it’s back as if it never left.
“Rule three. Huo Shao wants a report every night. Every single night. On a woman who’s studying law.” He waggles his eyebrows. “So. You’re new. Want to bet on how long it takes him to admit why?”
