Ksenia thought she would remain indifferent to everything regarding Lu Jiting, yet she had brought him home with her own hands.
She blamed the alcohol.
By the time the investigators cleared them to leave, it was already 10:00 PM.
Braving the chilly breeze, she and Henry walked side-by-side over the damp cobblestones, looking for all the world like a couple heading to a bar after a long day at work. A black luxury car brushed past them; as the tires hit a puddle, a spray of water soaked the hem of Ksenia's coat.
"Hey! Watch where you're driving!" Henry shouted, stepping forward as if to chase the car down for an apology.
But Ksenia had recognized that profile. Whether through a crowd, a car window, or a curtain of rain, she would always recognize him.
"Forget it, Henry," she said with forced indifference.
"You're too kind for your own good, Ksenia. That's why the people at the ballet company walk all over you."
Ksenia offered a small smile. In Henry's eyes, she was practically a saint.
As they rounded a corner, the smooth strains of jazz caught their attention.
The bars were coming to life.
The culture here was strange; despite the biting cold, men and women stood outside the pubs, clutching beer bottles and debating the meaning of life. Ksenia didn't love alcohol. She had always viewed it as a tool for chaos, a catalyst that nudged people toward irrationality and provided the perfect excuse for the irresponsible. She still believed that—but tonight, only alcohol could drown out the phantom in her mind.
"This one is quite strong, you should pick something else," Henry said, his brow furrowed as he scanned the menu. "Vodka, rum, gin, Cointreau... you'll feel terrible after drinking this."
But staying sober feels terrible, too, she thought.
"A Cosmopolitan for the lady, please. And I'll just have a Mojito," Henry said decisively.
"I didn't realize you were so controlling," Ksenia teased.
"Oh? Sorry. I just don't want you to feel sick."
Ksenia shifted her focus to the drink. "This is my first time having a Cosmopolitan."
"How is it?"
"Sweet and sour." She looked at him through the intermittent flashes of purple neon, alluring and magnetic. "Can I try yours?"
"Huh?" Henry's face flushed instantly. "I've already had a sip. If you don't mind... I don't mind."
The lingering jazz and dim lighting turned the atmosphere into a thick, syrupy haze of ambiguity.
"It tastes like summer. Mint and lemon."
Henry stared at the lipstick mark she left on his glass, momentarily dazed.
"I'm sorry, let me wipe that off for you—"
"No, no need." Blushing, he hurriedly took the glass back.
She was about to bring the conversation back to normalcy when her peripheral vision caught a figure at the corner of the bar.
Lu Jiting.
He was slumped over the counter, several empty glasses sitting before him.
Why is he everywhere?
Following Ksenia's gaze, Henry observed her expression with a hint of concern. "Who is that Asian man? I think I saw him outside the theater earlier. Do you know him?"
Ksenia struggled to find the right word for him. "His father took me in when I was seven. We... grew up together."
Childhood sweethearts sounded too intimate; childhood friends felt like a lie.
"Aren't you going to say hello? Is the relationship that bad?" Henry asked tentatively.
"We were close once. I don't really understand him anymore."
Memories of years past flooded back with Lu Jiting's presence, hitting her with a jolt of shame like an electric shock. "Anyway, he has nothing to do with me."
Henry scratched his head. "Well, if you grew up together, you're practically friends. No need to keep things so tense. I have two brothers, and to be honest, we don't get along either, but we maintain appearances when we meet. Maybe you should invite him to see you perform? There's another show on Monday."
Ksenia shook her head. "No. He hates ballet. And I don't want to see him again."
"He once told me explicitly that he hated ballet. He hated that I exposed my body's lines, hated that I partnered with men. He... he humiliated me."
"He must love you, then," Henry remarked.
Ksenia let out a cold laugh. "Who wants his love?"
She didn't want to talk about him anymore. Dwelling on it felt like admitting she hadn't moved on.
"What about you? Have you ever been in love?" she asked, forcing a change of subject.
"No."
"Why? You're so accomplished." Despite her words, her eyes betrayed her, drifting back toward the bar.
"Like you, I find it hard to love others."
Suddenly, a slight commotion broke out at the bar.
The bartender reached out to stop Lu Jiting. "Sir, you need to settle the bill first."
Lu Jiting reached into his pocket, froze for a second, and realized—his wallet had been stolen. He pulled off his wristwatch and slid it onto the counter. "Keep this for now. I'll have someone come by with the money later."
He was swaying, looking as though he might collapse into unconsciousness at any moment.
"I'm sorry, sir, that's against our policy," the bartender said coldly.
Ksenia felt her pulse throbbing in her temples.
She shouldn't intervene. If she helped him once, he would coil around her like a snake until she couldn't breathe.
"I'll pay."
She did it for the sake of Lu Jiting's father.
Lu Jiting snapped his head up, unsure if he was dreaming. "Ksenia," he whispered.
She caught a slurred "thank you," but she didn't dare look at him, didn't even dare to breathe.
But suddenly, Lu Jiting lunged toward her, his fingers tangling in her hair as he moved to kiss her.
In a flash, a fist slammed into Lu Jiting's face.
Henry. Where had he come from?
"Hey, hey! If you're going to fight, take it outside!" the bartender yelled, pulling them apart.
"Are you okay?" Henry asked Ksenia, his voice full of concern.
"I'm fine."
Henry shook out his hand and turned to Lu Jiting. "If you want to sue me or file a report, find me at the ballet company. My name is Henry Courtney."
Ksenia looked at Lu Jiting's pathetic state with icy eyes. She wondered what his mother would say if she saw him like this.
As for Lu Jiting? He struggled to his feet, likely too drunk to even register the force of the punch, and stumbled out of the bar.
Ksenia settled the bill and coaxed Henry back into his seat.
As for Lu Jiting... she knew someone would eventually come to pick him up.
"Does your hand hurt?"
"I hit him hard. His nose is definitely broken." Henry finished the rest of his drink. "You two were together, weren't you?"
The memory was sickening.
"Do you want our whole date to be about him?" Ksenia countered, though her mind was entirely on Lu Jiting.
"No. A date? Is this a date?"
Having known each other for ten years, they understood each other's temperaments too well. Their conversation would drift into silence, then into awkwardness.
While Henry was in the restroom, Ksenia went to the bar.
Driven by some inexplicable impulse, she said to the bartender, "I want the same thing that Asian man was drinking."
"It's very strong."
"I don't care."
She took a sip and winced. It was bitter, nearly impossible to swallow, and it scorched her throat. With just one mouthful, her ears began to burn and the world started to spin.
She realized something with a jolt. Grabbing her coat, she hurried out of the bar.
The rain in Loughton had returned after a brief respite, falling softly under the warm glow of the streetlights.
Passersby were whispering about an Asian man who had collapsed. Sure enough, she found Lu Jiting passed out on the corner.
She didn't know why she brought him home.
It was 3:00 AM, and she couldn't sleep. Lu Jiting was in the guest room.
White noise played—the sound of wood crackling in a fireplace.
Creeeeeak.
The sound of a door hinge sent Ksenia's nerves back into high alert.
Was he awake?
She stood up reflexively and opened the door.
Lu Jiting was hunched over the toilet, vomiting. He looked wretched. While a part of her felt vindicated, another part of her ached.
"Do you want some water?"
Lu Jiting jumped at the sound of her voice. This was Ksenia's home; it hadn't been a dream.
He took the glass and took a tiny sip.
"My nose hurts. Do you have any painkillers?"
Ksenia gave a curt "oh" and returned with a few pills.
"You found a man who can protect you at a moment's notice," Lu Jiting said, his voice dripping with bitterness.
"Mmhmm."
"I thought you'd argue," he muttered, swallowing the pills with the water.
"Don't you have a new life of your own?" Ksenia asked snidely. "Wasn't there a woman with you?"
"She was only there to make you jealous," he said weakly, his eyes bloodshot. "I wanted to see you care. Ideally, I wanted to see you fall on stage, cry, wash away that heavy makeup, and show me the face I'm familiar with."
Ksenia's expression remained flat. This was classic Lu Jiting. This was his style.
She touched his forehead to check if he had a fever from the rain. He caught her hand and pressed it against his cheek.
"You have a fever," Ksenia said, trying to stay composed.
"Just for a moment... don't leave me." Lu Jiting greedily drank in the warmth of her hand. "You're still alive."
Those words reminded Ksenia of what she had done. To escape or punish him, she had told a monumental lie.
She felt a wave of shame and couldn't bring herself to pull her hand away. She was listening to her own heartbeat.
"Do you still feel like throwing up?" her voice was now devoid of emotion.
"No."
"Then brush your teeth and go back to bed."
Lu Jiting gripped her hand tight, refusing to let go. "Is all of this going to disappear tomorrow?"
Ksenia's throat tightened. "I'll still be here tomorrow," she said dismissively.
Back in her room, her screen lit up. At this hour, only one person would message her.
An unknown number sent a text:
"Do not get involved with Lu Jiting. Continue your pursuit of Henry Courtney."