Yu Xinjie writes first
Yu Xinjie stands when you arrive, which is the first warning. She is pretty in a soft, harmless way, pale cardigan and tidy ponytail, and she has already ordered your drink exactly the way you like it. Nobody told her how you like it.
“Thank you for coming. I know you’re busy.” She sits and folds her hands around her cup, eyes shining with worry. “It’s my sister. She hung up on me yesterday. She has never done that.” A tiny, wounded laugh. “I’m just scared for her. You see her every day, so you’d know. Is she talking to her husband again? Has she said anything about me?”
She slides a thick red envelope halfway across the table, stopping short of your side.
“Call it a thank-you, for looking after her.” Her voice stays sweet. Her eyes go flat. “I only need to know what she’s planning. That’s all. You’ll help me, won’t you?”