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Wumei, prince of Shengyuan and Shengyuan’s sole royal delegate to the interplanetary conference, does not pout when he boards the ship that will take them to Dayu. He does not sulk either, no matter what Luojing says. He may decline the offer to meet the captain, chief crew members, and other passengers, and go skulk—sit—in his suite instead, but that doesn’t mean he’s sulking. He could be preparing for the conference.
“Grow up,” Luojing says as soon as their door is closed. Wumei pulls a face at her over his shoulder and carries her bags into her room. “It’s only for a couple weeks,” Luojing calls after him.
“It’s not the duration, it’s the principle.” Wumei stomps—walks—back out to find Luojing poking around their rooms, sometimes literally poking. “Our ship would have better ones,” he tells her as she examines the bathroom towels.
Wumei had always taken a private ship to the conference before—it was befitting his station and it helped Shengyuan show some class among the system center planets. This argument had not worked on his brother, the emperor, whose fault their current conveyance was. No, to him the chief concern was local appearances of government excess in times of austerity on Shengyuan. An argument Wumei would be more swayed by if he was not the one whose excess was being austered, and who would have to bear ribbing from the other delegates about taking a public ship to the conference.
Luojing rolls her eyes at him and tosses her remaining case on her bed. “You sure you’re not coming?”
Wumei is sure.
“The captain says there’s another prince on board,” Luojing tells him that evening in their rooms. She’s twirling her hair, so one of the men being discussed—the captain or the other prince—must be attractive. “Also a celebrity. An actor.” She sighs dreamily. “I can’t believe they didn’t come to the dinner tonight.”
“To be on this ship, the prince must be a lower prince. And the celebrity must be a B-lister,” Wumei scoffs, ignoring that this is a luxury ship specifically catering to wealthy travelers who don’t want the attention or publicity of flying a private ship but also don’t want to mingle with the hoi polloi.
“Like you’re a lower prince?” Luojing asks innocently, her eyes wide behind her tea cup.
Wumei rolls his eyes at her.
“Lighten up.” She kicks at his ankle under the table. “At least walk around with me tomorrow so we can see if they’re both as handsome as they sound from their names.” Her gaze becomes distant and her voice deepens as she enters her “imitating hot man” impression. “Xu Jin. Gu Chijun. Or you can mope in here all day,” she adds, voice returning to normal.
Wumei mopes in there all day.
Actually, he just crosses his arms and huffs for Luojing’s benefit when she gives up on him and leaves the room. Then he permits himself a little more mental grumbling, but he does turn his attention to preparing for the conference as he would if they were on a private ship.
Or, he tries to. Luojing doesn’t seem to remember, but if there’s another prince on board, there’s only one person it can be.
This ship’s route originated in Shengjing, and Wumei is the only prince of Shengyuan. So the other prince would’ve had to have arrived on Shengyuan from another planet. But the only other planets with local rulers are closer to the system center—they wouldn’t travel backwards to reach Shengyuan. Which means the prince is the Dayu prince who oversees Dayu’s provincial government on Zhenbei, the lone habitable moon orbiting the last planet in the system.
Zhenbei is technically Shengyuan’s closest political neighbor, being only a few days away by fast ship. It had historically been a nonentity, just a monitoring station on the edge of the system. Which is why Shengyuan was alarmed when, ten years ago, the Dayu prince was sent to oversee it.
It was hard not to see that as a threat. Why would Dayu send a prince to a provincial outpost unless it was to keep an eye on nearby Shengyuan?
Wumei just saw it as Dayu having so many princes it got to be profligate with them. Versus Shengyuan, which had only Wumei, who had to do everything. Ugh! The Dayu prince probably didn’t even have any duties over on Zhenbei.
Certainly maintaining neighborly communication did not seem to be a duty. Shengyuan, wanting to be on good terms with its new Dayu neighbor, sent regular and helpful messages and received dribbles in return. The most substantial communication they’d received that year was about a comet entering the system.
And now this prince is on the same ship, for weeks, without even a by-your-leave that they’d be traveling together. Presumably attending the conference together. Was Shengyuan, was Wumei, so beneath his notice?
Wumei’s mind paces around these thoughts in angry, confused circles until he is actually pacing the suite. He gets a drink from the replicator and downs it. Then he makes himself open the conference schedule.
It’s an annual conference and only a month along—a short little Dayu month—so it’s always a struggle to fit everything in: the presentations and panels but also the private meetings and negotiations. And if Dayu is playing games this year, mixing up its delegates, he will have to be extra prepared.
Hours later, finished with the schedule and staring with desperate, unsuccessful concentration at grain reports, he almost throws his data pad across the room in surprise when Luojing rushes back in.
“The other prince—” she announces breathlessly— “is conducting a murder investigation.”
“He asked me soo many questions,” she elaborates later, once Wumei has recovered his data pad and his composure. Just like a Dayu prince to lord his authority over everyone so much that he takes over an investigation on a ship where he is only a passenger. Wumei is so righteously annoyed about this that he forgets the part where there was a murder.
Luojing pushes a teacup into his hands and gives him a look until he agrees to be her audience. She’s made them both tea—boiling water from the replicator but real leaves, one of the ship’s luxury perks—and insisted they sit at the table while she regales.
“Questions like,” Luojing continues, lowering her voice and gazing hotly, “where were you…last night…between the hours of…dinnertime and…bedtime?”
“So of course I asked didn’t he want to know where I was after bedtime,” Luojing continues brightly, “but he just said ‘No. The murder occurred…before…bedtime.’”
Wumei snorts into his teacup.
“He’s very handsome!” Luojing protests. “You’ll see.”
Then they bicker over how handsome a man could be who looks and sounds like Luojing’s impression, and how long it will take him to interrogate everyone if he really talks like that, and Wumei forgets about political snubs and the actual murder.
The next day it’s his turn to be interrogated, and then he does see.
“Where were you the night before last, between the hours of 5 and 11pm?”
The voice is low, but bright, and commanding, but warm—Wumei thinks if Zhenbei had just sent voice communications in the prince’s own voice they could have prevented a lot of annoyance on Shengyuan. It’s the sort of voice that makes you want to trust it and do anything it asks. However, all the voice has asked him to do is reveal an utterly unhelpful and mildly embarrassing fact.
“In my rooms, having a private meal and doing research,” Wumei says, in all of his important princely tones, attempting to put a positive spin on “eating alone and sulking.”
“And are those your private rooms?”
“I’m traveling with my advisor, Lin Luojing, who you questioned yesterday. We share a suite of rooms.”
Just him and Luojing is a smaller delegation than in past years—more of the austerity measures—but they’ll join with Shengyuan’s ambassadorial team in Dayu once they get there. It’s not a small enough delegation to make the Dayu prince’s lip quirk the way it is. So Luojing must have made an impression. Wumei must make a face imagining what sort of impression that was because the other prince asks, “Do you have something to add about the lady Lin Luojing?”
“Of course not!”
The prince silently makes a note on his data pad. Wumei surreptitiously cranes as he tries to see it. Not that he would necessarily even be able to read it: they’re both speaking Common but the prince is probably taking notes in Dayu for secrecy’s sake, unless he’s an idiot, which, considering how he doesn’t seem to have any idea who Wumei is plus how little he’s locked down the ship while conducting a murder investigation, he might be—
The prince notices his craning. The expression he gives Wumei, hand covering the data pad, face stern and serious, bone structure immaculate, does not seem very idiotic.
“Is there anyone who can corroborate your account?”
Unfortunately: no. Luojing had left to people-watch and swan around, which the Dayu prince surely already knows from hearing Luojing’s account.
“Use the ship’s video feeds,” Wumei says airily, before putting his opponent on the defensive: “I find it very suspicious that you haven’t enacted more security protocols in the wake of a murder. It almost looks like there’s someone you’re trying to cover up for.”
“We’re on an express ship, there are no stops between here and Hengjing,” is the reply. “Where would anyone go?”
He sounds bored. Wumei assesses this attempt a failure. He scoffs.
“The ship’s videos do not reach inside the cabins, but the view from the hallway does show you entering your suite soon after coming on board and not leaving until…” The prince checks a note. Wumei suddenly feels this may be worse than not having an alibi. “…this interview. Two days later.” The other prince raises a cool eyebrow. “Is that correct?”
Wumei snorts to hide how much he wants to sink into the floor. “You’ve seen for yourself.”
“Just so.”
Wumei’s eyes, which he had been rolling elegantly, shoot back to the other prince. He hadn’t sounded derisive there. Almost amused. What does that mean?
“I have no other questions at this time,” the other prince says, voice distant again as he taps something on his data pad. Then he looks up at Wumei and smiles. “A pleasure to meet you, Prince Yuanzheng.”
Wumei slams through the door of their suite. (The door is electric and opens at the same rate no matter what he does.)
“Right???” Luojing agrees with his stormy face.
“He’s so—” Wumei storms across the foyer. “And he—” he paces back.
“He so is,” Luojing agrees.
“He barely looked at me! Me!” Wumei stomps into their sitting room. “He’s so—”
“—handsome,” Luojing sighs.
“Ha!” Wumei scoffs. “And he knows it. He’s just like a Dayu prince. Full of himself. Pretending he doesn’t know me just so he can end by saying my name like that!”
Like that: with a cadence and richness that Wumei had spent the entire walk back to his suite trying to dispel from his bones.
“I’ll show him,” Wumei continues, “I’ll make him notice me! I’ll solve that murder myself!”
“Ooh!” Luojing’s eyes widen and then narrow, this time in her scheming expression. “I like how you’re thinking, but also, what?”
Wumei fills her in on the political backstory. Luojing’s eyes light up the more he talks. When he finishes, she claps her hands together and dashes to her room for her data pad.
“We need to gather everything we know about the victim,” Wumei says, throwing himself into a seat at the table. He switches on his data pad and stares down at the blank page it opens. “What do we know about the victim?”
“We-e-ell,” Luojing says. “The victim is a fish.”
“Did you notice his cheekbones?” Luojing asks later as they’re working together quietly.
“Of course I noticed his cheekbones,” Wumei mutters.
“They’re extraordinary,” Luojing sighs. “And his hair looks so soft.”
Wumei is glad, for reasons of planetary pride, he was not the one to contribute these facts to the record, but he cannot dispute them.
“He is our enemy,” he says instead.
“Our Enemy,” Luojing intones mockingly. “So they don’t return your calls,” she says, decimating years of self-important hand-wringing by Shengyuan ministers with one sentence. “What do you message them about, anyway?”
Wumei, who had been so thrilled to find one duty that did not require his personal princely involvement that he delegated it years ago without a backward glance, is brought up short. “Important things. You know.”
Luojing lowers her eyebrows at him. “They told you about that comet.”
“That’s their only message this year.”
“It’s the second month.”
Wumei glares at her. “Focus.”
They settle on Gu Chijun as their first and most suspicious target.
“He has a little dog—”
“A little dog would eat a fish,” Wumei interjects.
“Don’t judge. What I meant is that he has a little dog who goes everywhere with him, and I have, multiple times, seen him sneaking into crew-only areas with his little dog.” Her eyes narrow.
Wumei doesn’t ask how Luojing already knows this much about Gu Chijun’s movements on only the third day of their voyage. He just gives her a look.
“So yes the little dog may have eaten the fish,” she concludes quickly.
That afternoon, Luojing suddenly informs Wumei that Gu Chijun is on his way to one of the crew-only areas. Luojing hasn’t left their suite, so Wumei doesn’t know how she knows this. He doesn’t ask. He just thinks about Xu Jin’s expression when they reveal they’ve solved the murder first and follows her down the hall.
Luojing had had little explanation when Wumei asked why the Dayu prince cared about a dead fish. Was it his pet? What idiot takes a pet fish to an interplanetary conference? Luojing had just shrugged. “He said it was a matter of grave importance. Do you want to beat him or not?”
Wumei does. So here they are.
The well-lit hallways of the passenger quarters, with their parquet floors and art-adorned walls, give way to the practical bleakness of the maintenance areas when Luojing ushers them through a manual-open door. She manages the door silently with practiced ease. Finger to her lips, Luojing beckons Wumei down the dim hallway, tiptoeing exaggeratedly on the bare metal floor. Wumei walks quietly after her.
As they near a corner, Luojing suddenly stops and cranes her ear forward. She turns back and waves her hands urgently at Wumei. Tiptoe-running the few steps back to him, she pulls them into an alcove. Moments later, Gu Chijun rounds the corner.
He has a pronounced gait that Wumei soon realizes is actually a limp. He does not have his little dog.
Then they hear: “I told you to stop contacting me like this.”
Wumei and Luojing freeze. So does Gu Chijun, whose expression goes through several iterations. Clumping boots follow the words and Gu Chijun looks up quickly, leaning casually on the wall to hide his limp.
“Huo Yan!”
They know each other! Wumei and Luojing exchange a look: Wumei’s brows raised, Luojing’s lowered. Conspirators!
The newcomer, Huo Yan, does not look pleased about being a conspirator. He looks long-suffering.
“Ah, Huo Yan, I really did slip this time. I just called the main line for help and didn’t know they’d send you. Really!”
“And why were you back here to slip?”
“Ah… I was…looking for somewhere to take Junjun for a walk.”
Huo Yan crosses his arms. “You aren’t even wearing the mag boots. Those weren’t easy to get for you.”
Wumei and Luojing share another look. Secret contraband!
“They’re too big without socks…”
Huo Yan sighs. “Can you walk?”
“Oh, definitely.” Gu Chijun takes a regular step and immediately falls back against the wall.
Faster than Wumei would have expected, Huo Yan darts forward to catch him. He steadies the other man. Once they’re both stable, he says, voice even, “These floors aren’t safe without the proper footwear.”
Before Gu Chijun can respond, Huo Yan has moved to stand in front of him and bent down to offer his back.
Wumei can practically feel Luojing vibrating. This does suggest a level of familiarity beyond what Wumei had expected from Huo Yan’s brusque remarks. Luojing must be excited about their obvious conspiratorial bond.
Gu Chijun grips Huo Yan’s shoulders as Huo Yan lifts him into a piggyback carry. “You must be soo strong,” Gu Chijun says. Huo Yan does not reply.
Huo Yan carries him down the hall, mag boots growing quieter and then fading after the clunk of the manual door closing. Silence has barely fallen before more footsteps sound, coming from the same direction Gu Chijun had come.
Wumei and Luojing share a glance and turn, expecting another crew member to walk past their hiding spot, but instead they come face to face with Xu Jin.
“Aah!” Luojing yelps.
Wumei says nothing. He is cool and collected.
“Have you seen anyone else here just now?” Xu Jin asks.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Luojing tosses her hair.
“Yes, I would.”
Luojing gives Wumei a look. Its significance is indisputable; its meaning, a mystery.
“I’m following Gu Chijun,” Xu Jin elaborates, surely breaking some murder investigation secrecy requirement. “It’s unexpected for him to be here and could mean something.”
“You’re too late,” Wumei says triumphantly. Xu Jin looks at him. “He’s just left.”
Wumei and Luojing saw Gu Chijun and Xu Jin didn’t! They won this battle! This is what Wumei thinks. Xu Jin surprises him, though, by merely looking thoughtful and not like he has been bested.
“Yes, with a crew member named Huo Yan,” Luojing adds, apparently also forgetting that this is a contest. Wumei shoots her a significant look but she doesn’t notice.
“They seemed to be continuing a conversation,” she goes on. “I don’t know what’s happening between them, but it’s definitely suspicious…very suspicious…”
“Is you two being here not suspicious?” Xu Jin asks mildly, and Luojing’s expression snaps back to a sunny smile. She laughs innocently.
“Of course not! We want to help you with the investigation! Well, Wumei does! For no reason! Bye!”
She trots away, slipping slightly on the floors. Wumei starts to call after her and then starts to go after her. That wasn’t what they’d discussed at all! They were going to beat Xu Jin and show him what’s what! Wumei doesn’t want to help.
Xu Jin doesn’t seem to want his help, as he turns his eyes from the disappearing Luojing, nods at Wumei, and leaves.
Wumei is annoyed that they agree on something.
The next day, Luojing rushes back into their rooms at lunch.
“Gu Chijun is back in the crew area! If you hurry, you might get there in time to hear him plotting!”
Wumei looks up from the summary of recent developments in interstellar imaging he’s reading over lunch. “How do you know this? Did you put a location tracker on him?”
“That’s not important now! Hurry!” She tugs at his arm and Wumei lets her for a while before bowing to her strength of will if not of arm. He stands up.
To his surprise, they part at the first hallway intersection, with Wumei heading left and Luojing right.
“Aren’t you coming?”
“You go ahead!” Luojing cries, already rushing away.
Wumei rolls his eyes and goes. It feels ridiculous, but maybe he will learn something that will give them an edge over Xu Jin. With that thought, he lengthens his stride.
But even the length of Wumei’s long stride is not fast enough, because by the time he gets to the location Luojing had told him, no one is there. Wumei paces around for a few minutes looking for anything that might be a clue and listening for voices or footsteps before he loses patience and leaves.
On his way back to the passenger hallways, he runs into Xu Jin.
Xu Jin might actually have a tracking device on Gu Chijun, he thinks. Or on Wumei. The thought that Xu Jin might be tracking him makes Wumei glower.
Xu Jin meets his eyes briefly and walks past him.
So he’s tracking Gu Chijun, not Wumei. Wumei lengthens his stride again and stomps away.
He’s back in the passenger hallways, passing fake windows that show simulations of space outside the ship, when light footsteps bound after him. Wumei looks over his shoulder to see Xu Jin jogging the last few steps to catch up to him. Once caught, he falls into step beside Wumei, the length of Wumei’s grumpily long stride causing no issues.
“You’re making yourself quite suspicious, Prince Yuanzheng,” Xu Jin comments lightly. “How do I know you’re not the conspirator Gu Chijun is meeting with?”
“Put a tracker on me too, and you’ll see.” What is he saying? He should have said how dare you accuse a prince of—
Xu Jin laughs. It is an unreasonably pleasant laugh for such an infuriating man.
“I don’t have a tracker on Gu Chijun. I ran into Lin Luojing and she mentioned she thought he’d be here. Personal trackers are illegal under Dayu law,” Xu Jin adds.
“We’re not on Dayu,” Wumei snaps.
“True,” Xu Jin says easily. “Where are you headed now?” he asks, and he might as well have put a tracker on Wumei because for some reason Wumei tells him and then walks with him the rest of the way.
Luojing is back at the suite when Wumei finally returns, which means he can take out some grumpiness on her.
“I thought we were going to beat Xu Jin to catching the murderer! Now you’re giving him the same information?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you cared about justice,” Luojing says lightly, not looking up from her data pad. “This way you’ll catch the murderer twice as fast.”
“You know this isn’t about justice!”
“Interesting statement from the crown prince.”
Wumei glares.
Luojing turns around to stare at him over the back of her chair. She points at his mouth. “You’ll give yourself scowl lines.”
Wumei lifts the corners of his mouth into an artificial smile. Then he pulls a face at her.
She pulls one back. “I’m making it a fun challenge. Anyway, look at this—Gu Chijun was on the outbound leg of this ship’s route too, and Huo Yan was crew then as well. And Gu Chijun lives in Hengjing. Why would he travel all the way from Dayu to Shengyuan and back…unless he had some reason to meet with Huo Yan…”
“He could have had business on Shengyuan,” Wumei points out.
“No, that’s not it,” Luojing dismisses with the certainty of someone who only moved to Shengyuan for a first job and never intended to stay. Wumei rolls his eyes at this summary dismissal, but Luojing doesn’t notice, her own eyes narrowed at her screen. “No, something is going on…”
One of the things Luojing had catalogued as Very Suspicious about Gu Chijun was that, even though he famously had a small dog, they had seen no sign of the small dog. Luojing had opined that keeping the dog out of sight was just what someone would do if their dog had committed a high-profile fish murder. So it’s with equal measures of excitement and disappointment that Wumei hears excited yapping as he skulks down the maintenance hallway Luojing has sent him to today. Excitement: new information! Disappointment: current hypothesis squashed. Unless he’s trying to transfer the dog to Huo Yan for more secure hiding…
“Junjun, Junjun,” Wumei hears in coaxing tones alongside the yapping. “Aiyo, Junjun, not in there. Actually…”
Wumei peers around the corner and sees Gu Chijun, Junjun yapping eagerly at his feet, considering an open grate cover on a ventilation shaft. Wumei’s interest piques. True sabotage! Junjun is darting little eager steps between Gu Chijun and the opening in the vent shaft as if asking Gu Chijun to come see his exciting new hiding spot. The vent is easily large enough for the small dog and even for an agile human.
Gu Chijun strokes his chin for a while and then snaps his hand away. “No, Junjun, we’ll stick to the plan. I have the best plans!” He scoops Junjun up and seems to be trying to place him on a high flat bulkhead. Junjun wiggles eagerly and seems to be trying to lick Gu Chijun’s fingers.
“Gu Chijun,” Huo Yan says, and Gu Chijun and Wumei both jump. How had he—they—not heard Huo Yan’s clunking mag boots? Ability to walk without notice, Wumei thinks, almost narrowing his eyes like Luojing in suspicion.
“Haugh—Huo Yan!” Gu Chijun yelps, leaping away from the bulkhead and holding Junjun close. His feet (still no mag boots) slip on the floor but he doesn’t fall. He seems to be completely recovered from his limp the other day, Wumei notes suspiciously.
“We received a call about a trapped dog,” Huo Yan says, tone doubtful under his professional demeanor.
“He was!” Gu Chijun says. “Trapped! He was all the way up there, and he wouldn’t come down, so I called and I requested you because you’re soo tall…”
Huo Yan has turned his attention to the open vent cover.
“What is this?”
A movement at Wumei’s elbow alerts him that Xu Jin has joined him in peering around the corner. Him crowding in better not get them caught.
“It was just like that,” Gu Chijun says. It doesn’t sound convincing but Wumei isn’t sure if anything he said right now would sound convincing.
“You’re sure you didn’t tamper with this?”
“Well, I might have bumped it a little, maybe it came off without me realizing.”
“These covers are welded on.”
“I am very strong,” Gu Chijun says with a winning grin.
Huo Yan makes a tch noise, but Wumei sees the corner of his mouth lift in a smile as he turns away. He lifts the cover and there’s a reverberating clang as he snaps it back into place. He pulls a tool out of his belt.
“Stand clear, please.”
Gu Chijun takes half a step back, still peering over Huo Yan’s shoulder, and then a full two steps back and covers Junjun’s eyes with one hand when Huo Yan’s tool begins to glow red-hot. Wumei has to look away too. At first he accidentally looks right at Xu Jin, who has turned away from the light and toward Wumei. Ugh! Wumei turns the other direction.
Soon the low buzzing of Huo Yan’s tool stops and there’s a quieter clang. Wumei looks back in time to see Huo Yan tugging on the grate. It stays in place.
“Junjun, Huo Yan was so talented!” Gu Chijun says. “Aren’t you glad Huo Yan was here to save you? Say thank you, Junjun!”
He lifts the dog, still held close to his chest, out to Huo Yan. Huo Yan looks from Junjun to Gu Chijun, both looking at him with almost identical expressions of open eagerness. He fumbles the tool back into his toolbelt and hurries away.
“They don’t appear to be equal conspirators,” Xu Jin muses once Gu Chijun has left as well.
Xu Jin walks over to the grate and examines it. Wumei stares at his back, wondering why Xu Jin is taking Wumei into his investigatory confidences. Before Xu Jin can change his mind, Wumei follows. He joins Xu Jin in looking at the grate, pretending he knows anything about ventilation. The welding join is obvious even to Wumei but looks sturdy. Xu Jin spends some time studying it and running his fingers along the seam. Wumei doesn’t think it’s necessary to touch it that much.
“I wouldn’t have thought Gu Chijun had the know-how to remove this,” Xu Jin says. “Though I suppose we must allow that he had the strength.”
Wumei looks at Xu Jin in time to see a small smile on his usually stoic features. A joke? Is he joking? With Wumei? Or is he thinking fondly of Gu Chijun’s muscular physique? Both are suspicious.
“I don’t think he did!” Wumei says loftily.
Xu Jin raises his eyebrows so Wumei must defend this assertion, and finds that he can.
“I was here before you, so I saw when the dog noticed the open vent. If Gu Chijun had removed it just then, I would have heard the noise.”
Xu Jin nods consideringly. “Or,” he suggests, “you’re in cahoots with them too.” He says it lightly, and that’s definitely a joking smile.
He starts away down the hallway before Wumei can do more than gawp in response.
“I am—not!” Wumei splutters angrily. “In cahoots! And anyway!” he adds to Xu Jin’s retreating back, “he didn’t even want to hide Junjun in there, so he didn’t even have a reason to open it!”
Xu Jin pauses and turns slightly back. Then he turns fully back, like he’d expected Wumei to leave with him and is confused to find that Wumei is still so far behind.
Wumei raises his chin with his best scowl. Xu Jin slowly walks back to him.
"It doesn’t add up,” Xu Jin agrees as he nears Wumei. He lifts a hand in a subtle invitation, and Wumei is walking along beside him before he knows what he’s doing. “If Gu Chijun didn’t remove the grate himself, who did? And if he didn’t know about the grate, why was he here?”
Xu Jin continues to muse as they walk down the crew hallway, something about the possibility of Gu Chijun framing Huo Yan, or Gu Chijun being framed himself, but Wumei barely hears. To his growing horror, the cadence of Xu Jin’s voice is being slowly drowned out by a rumbling sound coming from deep in the ship. When Wumei looks surreptitiously, frantically, at Xu Jin, the other prince seems to barely hear it. Maybe the rumbling is half in Wumei’s own ears. He clenches his hands into fists. It’s not thunder. There’s no thunder on ships.
The thunder doesn’t know that, because it keeps growing: rumbling below them, then above them, until the rolling sound is all around them.
Even Xu Jin is affected by it now. He stops walking and looks around.
Xu Jin says something, but Wumei has given up on hearing human speech. He nods and hopes that’s the right response. Maybe it’s the engines. Engines make noise. This much noise, though? Cold sweat breaks out on his face and he begins to shake. The remaining rational part of his mind protests that what the hell is happening, there aren’t thunderstorms in space!!
“Prince Yuanzheng!” Xu Jin shouts, clear voice cutting through the cacophony—
But that’s all he says before an unmistakable clap of thunder fills the air and the hallway turns lightning-white.
Illuminating the man standing before them.
Wumei shrieks.
“We didn’t get a clear look at his face.”
They’re standing together in the captain’s office—before now, if asked, Wumei would have said the captain stayed on the bridge all day—and Xu Jin is acting like he clearly knows the man and has been here before. Wumei is feeling awkward, standing before the captain’s desk like he’s a student again standing before his instructor. He would very much like to go hide in his rooms, but in a dignified way becoming of a prince.
He hadn’t meant to shriek like a child when the ghostly figure appeared. He hadn’t meant to leap into Xu Jin’s arms either, but somehow both of those things had happened. He certainly hadn’t meant to stay there so long. He scowls to fight the blush that threatens to rise up at the memory. The captain notices and raises a cool eyebrow. Wumei glares back.
“I can confirm,” Xu Jin says, bringing both of their attention back to him, “that the man is not among the crew or passengers I have seen in my investigation. I believe I have spoken to everyone. He was tall, Prince Yuanzheng’s height, and carried an umbrella.”
The captain’s expression doesn’t change, but the faintest tinge of pink appears high on his cheeks. “Thank you, Prince Su. There is no need to investigate this matter further.”
Xu Jin hesitates. “Captain Long, we believe this man was responsible for the sabotage of the nearby ventilation shaft, which led to a localized atmospheric destabilization. Are you not concerned about an unauthorized traveler tampering with ship systems?”
Captain Long Feiye raises a cool eyebrow at Xu Jin this time, until Xu Jin falls silent. “I thank you for your dedication in investigating the matter of Xiao Pang,” Captain Long says. “But that is all I have granted you access to do.”
Xu Jin gives a stiff nod that is almost a bow. Wumei, somewhat stunned, follows him out of the captain’s office. Why does a ship captain get a bow when Wumei gets…whatever is going on?
Xu Jin is silent as they walk down the hall. Contrary to his usual silences, this one seems to seethe with energy. Wumei takes the time to reflect on the exchange he’d just witnessed. Captain Long had asked Xu Jin to investigate? What was a dead fish to the captain? And how was the captain connected to the mysterious be-umbrella-ed figure?
Unfortunately, when Wumei has reflected too long, the mortal embarrassment of shrieking in whatever Xu Jin called it, a localized atmospheric disturbance, reasserts itself until he wants to sink into the floor. Shrieking and throwing himself into the arms of Xu Jin—a Dayu prince, his enemy! The mortification grows as he realizes Xu Jin is leading them to Wumei’s suite. He’s walking Wumei home. Like a child.
“I’ll leave you to rest,” Xu Jin says as they reach Wumei’s door. “You’ll be okay here on your own?”
As if summoned, Luojing opens the door, so Wumei cannot even claim the dignity of being okay here on his own. Luojing blinks her eyelashes up at Xu Jin and Wumei shoves past her in a huff to throw himself on his bed (in his room at the back of the suite) (where Xu Jin cannot see him) (he checks).
Through the pillow he has planted his face in, he hears some covert murmurs, and then the suite door closes. Luojing’s steps pad through the suite to his room, and then she jumps onto the bed.
“Go away,” Wumei says into his pillow. “I’m dying of shame.”
“Of shaaame?” Luojing draws it out. “You don’t seem to hate your awful terrible rival so much today.”
“Shut up. Of course I hate him.”
“Mmhm. He’s soooo handsome when he’s worried,” Luojing sing-songs.
He’s handsome all the time, Wumei doesn’t say. And if Xu Jin is worried, it’s just because his investigation is being blocked by the captain while the phantom umbrella man runs amok.
With a groan, because Luojing is also investigating and deserves to know, Wumei rolls his face off the pillow and fills her in.
“Hm,” she muses, tapping her lower lip. “If the umbrella man used his lightning power, that could have electrocuted the fish’s water…”
“He doesn’t have lightning power. You forgot the part where it was all in my head and I’m insane and Xu Jin hates me now,” Wumei reminds her.
Xu Jin, who hates him now, comes by the next morning with breakfast. Wumei stares at the trays of food in his hands and forgets to invite him inside.
“What’s this?”
“Breakfast.”
“I can feed myself,” he says, praying his stomach doesn’t growl.
“The food from the cabin replicators is almost as bad as what we have on our patrol ships.”
Wumei’s stomach, which agrees, is warring with his head, which also agrees but knows Xu Jin is only doing this because of the whole shrieking incident. Maybe to get something on him that he can use to his advantage in conference negotiations. Wumei’s expression grows stormy.
“Ooh!” Luojing cries, ducking under Wumei’s elbow. She grabs a bun from a tray. “Thanks, Prince Su!”
“That’s mine!” Wumei snaps.
Luojing twirls past Xu Jin and skips down the hallway, waving her bun overhead in a goodbye.
Xu Jin looks after her. Wumei looks at Xu Jin. He’s holding a fully laden tray in each hand and his back is straight as an arrow.
Wumei sighs and invites him in. Even if he is here for some political advantage, the fallout from Wumei turning away a Dayu prince would be worse than whatever Xu Jin is planning. Wumei can’t treat Dayu like an enemy because they aren’t one, just an…antagonistic ally.
Xu Jin came with breakfast but not conversation. He says a few more things about food quality and then falls silent. It’s better than being threatened, Wumei supposes, but he isn’t prepared for this. Why is Xu Jin here?
In the growing silence, Wumei has a sudden clear worry that Xu Jin is going to ask how he is after the thunderstorm thing, which he absolutely cannot do. Wumei casts around.
“Have you gone to the conference before?” he asks finally, with desperate stilted politeness. It’s a stupid question—Xu Jin has never been to the conference and everyone knows this, so it will probably make Xu Jin think Wumei doesn’t pay any attention at the conferences—but it’s better than Xu Jin asking how he is.
Xu Jin sets his cup down elegantly. Wumei doesn’t think such a motion should be allowed to be so elegant. “No, usually my father prefers to send one of my brothers. This is the first year I’ve been asked to attend. One year he sent my uncle, but I gather my uncle made it clear he should not be sent again.” Xu Jin delivers this with a wry smile. Wumei wants to ask more, but that’s not something an antagonistic ally can do. Xu Jin’s mysterious smiles will stay mysteries. “My uncle is actually traveling with me now, and he’s been making vague and dire remarks about the conference this whole time.”
Wumei snorts. What kind of person would find the conference dire? Some spoiled Dayu prince, he supposes. Wumei knows of Xu Jin’s uncle. He’s brother to his emperor too, but unlike Wumei, he has plenty of princely nephews he can hand princely duties off to. The man’s probably never worked a day in his life.
“My father sent my uncle to retrieve me from Zhenbei,” Xu Jin says, “but I think it’s just as likely I’m here to keep an eye on him. He likes to wander,” Xu Jin explains. “Pretend to be a poet.”
Wumei manages to hold back his initial reaction to that, but that leaves him with nothing to say. Conversation lapses.
“I’ve gone every year,” Wumei says into the silence. It comes out too loud. And it sounds like a flex. “My brother is emperor and has no children or other siblings to send.” Well, now it doesn’t sound like a flex, it sounds like Wumei only goes because there’s no other options.
“Do you have vague and dire warnings for me too?”
Wumei rolls his eyes.
Xu Jin’s smile grows. “When Captain Long asked if I’d investigate the murder, I confess a strong incentive was the chance to get away from my uncle. I found myself…eager to occupy myself in ways that are not his company. He admired one of my poems once and now he keeps trying to talk to me about them.”
Xu Jin is a poet? Wumei is doubly glad he’d held back his earlier reaction. He tries to think of something favorable to say about poetry.
“Please don’t say anything about poetry,” Xu Jin adds, and Wumei coughs into his cup. When he looks up, Xu Jin is smiling at him.
Xu Jin is smiling, again, at him. What on earth is he doing? Doesn’t he know he and Wumei hate each other? Is this a con? Why is he so magnetically like this here, after being so stuck-up and isolationist for ten years!
That stupid smile winds Wumei up like a music box and he starts babbling. He tells Xu Jin all about the conference, showing off what he’s learned in years of attendance. Shengyuan may not be as influential as Dayu, but over the years Wumei has been a consistent presence, which means he’s become known and included and, after his first hot-headed years, respected. So Wumei can tell Xu Jin which delegates will waste time “considering” but never deliver or formally agree and which seemingly small players hold more strings than you’d expect—it’s easier to deal with a consistent delegation than with Dayu’s changeable presence. Something he’s used to his advantage. Before he can give away all his secrets to Xu Jin who is, after all, an agent of Dayu, Wumei drags himself onto the safer subject of which panel topics are just an excuse for people to hear themselves talk.
“Like that one about pest-free grain storage,” Wumei says. “Day—the system center always wants to invent some new tech solution for that. Just use cats.”
Xu Jin chokes. When he recovers, he says, “My father did point that one out as one worth attending.”
Wumei rolls his eyes. Dayu with their cheap energy, so close to the sun. Plenty of energy, plenty of princes, and no sense.
“If you want something worth attending, come to Threats from Beyond.”
Xu Jin raises his eyebrows.
“The name was supposed to make more people come.” One of younger-Wumei’s less-smart demands. “We run it every year.”
“Yes, I saw. I was curious about that one.”
Oh. Maybe he hadn’t been mocking the name with those eyebrows? Wumei looks suspiciously at him but sees only genuine interest.
“The center is willing to leave us to deal with any threats from beyond.” Oops. He wishes that stupid phrase hadn’t wormed its way into his vocabulary. “They know we’d bear the brunt. The border planets.”
Xu Jin, who had alerted them to that comet—a threat from beyond, even if a tiny one that Shengyuan already knew about—grins. There’s an edge to it. “Then they shouldn’t have sent me this year.”
Wumei feels a weird sense of—fellowship? Teamwork? What if Xu Jin means it, what if Zhenbei were not an antagonistic ally but an actual ally, someone to help Shengyuan with border concerns and advocate for the border planets to the center? The idea of working together—working with Xu Jin—almost makes Wumei smile.
Just then the suite door slides open and Luojing calls a hello.
Xu Jin jumps, then looks around like he hadn’t realized how long they’d talked and is looking for a window to gauge the time of day. Instead of making Wumei scoff at the gesture—nonsensical on a spaceship—it gives him a flash of insight into Xu Jin’s life. He wonders how they do things on Zhenbei—if they have airy Dayu buildings, how bright it is with the planet’s reflected glow.
Wumei shakes himself hard. Why is he like this?
Luojing is chattering cheerfully to herself in the foyer, saying something about handsome strangers that Wumei can’t make out. Xu Jin quickly gathers the trays and their dishes. “Thank you for the meal, Prince Yuanzheng,” he says, and before Wumei can point out that Xu Jin brought the meal, he’s gone.
The next morning, Wumei is still tired when there’s a knock at the door. He’d stayed up too late looking at publicly available information on Xu Jin on his data pad. Because it was a responsible thing to do: as a conference delegate, he should be familiar with the various parties, and as a potential ally…anyway. If Wumei had happened to find some photos in his research, well. If he had happened to let his eyes linger on one where Xu Jin’s collar gaped open at the neck to reveal a hint of well-muscled chest, well. If he had closed the photo and closed his eyes to visualize Xu Jin’s warm, surprised smile from earlier that day, well.
Then he’d started actually reading, and he’d gotten distracted from the photos.
One thing that had been bothering him was Xu Jin’s age. Xu Jin looked about the same age as Wumei, but he’d been placed in command of Zhenbei ten years ago. Wumei had tried to tell himself Xu Jin just had one of those faces and was actually thirty-five or something.
Good news: Xu Jin is basically Wumei’s age. Bad news: because he’d been sent to Zhenbei when he was twelve.
Wumei knew Dayu could be profligate with its princes, but there’s nothing material a princely twelve-year-old could do and no soft-power reason to have a royal presence at Zhenbei. It reads like a banishment. Especially because, from what Wumei can find, Xu Jin’s family still lives on Dayu.
After that he feels twitchy and angry. He paces the suite until Luojing yells at him in her sleep.
Anyway, he’s tired and his hair is rumpled when he opens the suite door to see Xu Jin.
“Ack,” Wumei says, eloquently.
“Can you come?” Xu Jin asks. He looks and sounds out of breath. His chest is rising and falling more rapidly than usual, not that Wumei has looked enough at Xu Jin’s chest to know what the usual is. “I think this might be it,” Xu Jin adds.
Wumei does not know what this means but, he discovers, there’s no way he’s going to say no to a panting Xu Jin asking if he can come. He nods, still tongue-tied, and steps out the door.
Xu Jin sets a brisk pace. Wumei tugs his hair into place as he follows.
“I know we were starting to rule out Gu Chijun,” Xu Jin explains as they speedwalk, “but I saw him headed toward that ventilation shaft again. He was carrying a lot of things.”
“Maybe he’s conspiring with whoever opened the grate,” Wumei suggests.
Xu Jin flashes him a quick smile. “The thought occurred to me too.”
They slow their pace as they arrive, but Gu Chijun is distracted enough with his bags and boxes, and Junjun yipping excitedly by his feet, that they’re able to slip into their earlier hiding space unnoticed. Xu Jin stands very close to Wumei—he has to, so they can both see and not be seen—and Wumei sacrifices a piece of his brain to wondering if he smells so good because of the soap he uses or because of some inherently Xu Jin-like property. Somewhere between talking about border threats and learning about his childhood—and, fine, looking at photos of him practicing martial arts and remembering how it had felt to be held in those arms, for a tiny and defensibly short period of time—somewhere between all that, Xu Jin had transcended all the enemy/antagonistic ally/actual ally baggage. With that out of the way, Wumei has discovered he actually likes him.
It’s a horrible realization. Wumei does not appreciate it. It will not make investigating any easier.
As they watch, Gu Chijun hangs a large piece of cloth or paper across a section of the hallway. Wumei sees a few strokes like text, but the angle of their hiding spot means he can’t read what it might say. Xu Jin shifts closer to him to get a better view. Wumei remembers that the ship provides soap for all the suites. Wumei doesn’t use it because Luojing had sniffed it and thrown all theirs out.
The next thing out of Gu Chijun’s bag is a little bow tie for Junjun. Wumei is beginning to doubt they are going to witness a conspirators’ tête-à-tête.
Then Gu Chijun pulls out several balloons.
Wumei and Xu Jin exchange a look.
Xu Jin nods his head toward the exit, but before they can leave, Huo Yan arrives.
“Gu Chijun, you really have to stop asking for me specifically when you call. People will think we’re up to something.”
That sounds conspiratorial. Maybe something is happening after all. Xu Jin straightens in anticipation. Wumei feels a triumphant nervous flutter. Then Gu Chijun’s banner unfurls and even from this angle they can see it reads: “HUO YAN, WILL YOU DATE ME?”
Wumei closes his eyes.
When he opens them, Gu Chijun is holding the bow-tie-adorned Junjun out in a beseeching manner and Huo Yan has a despairing hand over his eyes.
“You really should have asked me when I’m not on duty.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Were any of those words yes?”
Undeterred, Gu Chijun waggles Junjun in front of Huo Yan’s face, then sets him down when that has no effect. “I thought about what you said on the trip out here. I’m not going into this blindly. I really like you! I really think this can work!”
Huo Yan crosses his arms.
“We both live in Hengjing. When you have a long voyage, I could get a job on the ship too to come with you! It’d be great for role research…”
“Please don’t do that.”
Gu Chijun says something else. Wumei doesn’t hear it because Xu Jin shifts and the part of Wumei’s brain still thinking about soap goes into high gear.
“You thought about what I said but you still went for balloons again?” Huo Yan is asking when Wumei has weighed the possibility of Xu Jin smelling this good from a Luojing-rejected soap.
“So that’s a yes?”
“It’s an ask me again when I’m off duty.”
Gu Chijun beams so broadly the wattage in the hallway increases. “How about a kiss to seal the deal?”
“I really cannot kiss a passenger while I’m on duty,” Huo Yan protests, but he’s laughing as he darts away.
“Not even a little?” Gu Chijun wheedles, darting after him. Junjun yips and bounds around their feet.
Then—predictably—Gu Chijun slips on the smooth floor. Huo Yan catches him.
Wumei looks at Huo Yan holding Gu Chijun in a dancer’s dip and seriously thinks he will have to stand here, pressed close to Xu Jin, and watch them kiss each other. But then they just stare sappily at each other instead and that is worse.
Finally they leave.
Wumei and Xu Jin remain in their hiding spot for longer than they strictly need to. Wumei feels frozen. He also is not sure what he will do if he moves first and accidentally touches Xu Jin, who he has concluded smells like this as an innate property of his being.
“Well,” Xu Jin says after several long moments. “This was a dead end.”
He squeezes out of their hiding spot and Wumei follows.
“Do you have any more leads?” Wumei asks, looking down the hall instead of at Xu Jin. The hallway is clear again, Huo Yan having insisted they clean everything up. If he had murdered the fish, there would be no trace.
“No.” Xu Jin sighs. Wumei looks back and sees that Xu Jin is waiting for him. They fall into step together on their way back to the passenger area. “Everyone except you had a good alibi. Or looked so surprised at the murder victim being a fish that they’d clearly never thought of a fish murder before.”
Xu Jin looks truly disappointed to have not solved the murder. Wumei still does not understand the importance of the fish, but solving the case will make Xu Jin happy and that—ugh—means it’s important to Wumei. They walk in silence for a while as Wumei weighs his options. He does not want to mention the umbrella phantom again and remind Xu Jin of Wumei’s behavior—Xu Jin has treated him so normally since then—but if it will help solve the case…
“Luojing thought the umbrella man was suspicious too,” he says, not adding that she also thought he had lightning powers. “And she probably has a way to track him without the captain knowing. Come back to my suite and we can discuss it?” He braces himself for Xu Jin to say no.
Xu Jin says yes.
His whole demeanor brightens. He really must be eager to find justice.
Luojing is gone when they reach the suite. Even though they are here to talk with Luojing, Wumei is glad. He leads Xu Jin through the rooms to the dining area near the back, where they’d had breakfast the day before. He offers Xu Jin some food while they wait for Luojing and Xu Jin readily agrees. Then, with Xu Jin already sitting comfortably at Wumei’s table, Wumei realizes he has nothing but replicator food to give him. He calls up the machine’s fanciest food and wine, hoping the fanciness will mean better quality.
It doesn’t, but Xu Jin doesn’t mind. He eats it easily and chats with Wumei. Chats! They don’t talk about the murder at all. Xu Jin says he likes to take advantage of the ship’s real food because they spend so much of the Zhenbei winter eating replicator food. Wumei asks if that’s because they haven’t figured out pest-free food storage yet and Xu Jin almost giggles.
“The growing cycles are hard,” he says, and Wumei knows about that.
“You should talk to our horticulture people. I know there’s studies out of Dayu but they don’t get it, you can’t trust what they say. They have so much sun.”
“They really do,” Xu Jin chuckles, pouring them both more wine. “When I first came to Zhenbei, I was so confused by how dim the sun was. I thought they’d turned it off to punish me.”
He looks up from their cups and sees Wumei’s expression. “Now I know joking about the sun is rude out here, you don’t have to glare at me.”
What! “I’m not glaring at you! I’m glaring at them!” Xu Jin’s cheerful expression is slipping into confusion. He starts to say something, and Wumei thinks he will be damned if he hears Xu Jin defend them. “What idiot sends a child away like that!”
After a moment where Wumei’s voice rings in the small room, Xu Jin says, voice strained, “As prince, I really shouldn’t let you criticize the emperor’s decisions.”
“Ha!”
“I did have princely duties.”
“Shut up. No you didn’t. Nothing you needed to do. Shengyuan has only me and they didn’t put me to work at twelve. Not like that.”
Xu Jin is quiet. He slowly lifts his cup to drink. When he lowers it, he says, “I thank Prince Yuanzheng for his wise assessment.”
Wumei glares at him. He tosses his wine back and angrily pours them both more. “Just call me Wumei.”
“Wumei.”
He had to say it in that stupid voice. Wumei feels like he’s blushing inside his chest. Stupid. Stupid decision. Should have made Xu Jin call him Prince Yuanzheng forever.
“Xu Jin,” he says, just to taunt him.
It doesn’t work because Xu Jin smiles. He looks happy again. Ugh! Wumei throws back his drink again to dull the weird feeling.
Conversation turns to safer topics, mildly—Xu Jin tells him about being raised by the general and captains on Zhenbei and admits he feels like a stranger around his mother and brother, who he’ll see while on Dayu for the conference. Wumei tells him about growing up with a brother who is more emperor than sibling or friend. And Wumei’s angry defense must have unlocked some doors he usually keeps closed, because somewhere near the end of their second bottle he finds himself babbling about his mother dying in a thunderstorm. He can’t stand the look in Xu Jin’s eyes, so he cracks open a third.
And by the middle of the third bottle, trading jokes on lighter topics before falling into a comfortable silence, Xu Jin’s gaze drops, heavy, to Wumei’s lips.
Wumei’s heart slams against the walls of his chest.
And then. Xu Jin doesn’t kiss him.
Xu Jin’s gaze travels: the food, the wine, the room, and when it comes back to Wumei, it’s light and good-humored. Wumei almost scowls at him. How dare he! How dare he think about kissing Wumei and make Wumei think about kissing him! Wumei misses the next several things Xu Jin says.
One of them is a question. Wumei has no idea how to answer it. Instead he leans in, all in a rush, and kisses Xu Jin.
It is not a disaster. Xu Jin inhales sharply and gets a hand on Wumei before he can pull back. As if he would. Wumei doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Xu Jin does. He tilts his head just slightly so their lips slide together, his hands coming up to cup Wumei’s face. Wumei wants to do that forever until Xu Jin nudges his lips open and slips his tongue inside and oh, oh, Wumei wants to do this forever.
They’ve made a pretty good go at forever when the suite door slides open and Luojing’s voice cuts through the haze: “I’ve found the murderer!”
Xu Jin starts to draw away but Wumei pulls him back. Xu Jin laughs against his mouth. With half an ear, Wumei tracks Luojing’s progress through their rooms as he continues to kiss Xu Jin.
“I got sidetracked with that umbrella guy the captain was so cagey about, but it turns out they’re just fucking!” she shouts from the foyer.
“And Gu Chijun’s little dog didn’t do it, I knew he didn’t!” she adds happily from the sitting room.
“It was the easiest answer!” she cries, voice very clear and close now. “It was Xu Jin’s creepy uncle! Oh! Oh.”
Wumei finally breaks the kiss and looks up. Luojing is standing in the doorway. “Good for you,” she says to both of them, tone appreciative. “Er, sorry, Xu Jin. He is creepy though.”
Xu Jin, straightening his robes, waves away the apology. Wumei rests his chin in his hand and watches him adjust his hair. He knows how soft it is now.
“Sooo.” Luojing pokes Wumei to get his attention. It takes several tries. “Sooo! I actually invited—” Luojing points over her shoulder with an apologetic grimace— “more people here—”
Wumei can hear more voices spreading into their rooms now, along with the yapping of a small dog.
“You know,” Luojing continues airily, “for the part where I gather them around and tell everyone how I solved it.”
Xu Jin tilts his head. “Is that Wen Xu?”
“It was his fish! He’s been very helpful.” Luojing twirls her hair around her finger.
Wumei looks at Xu Jin. Xu Jin looks back at him. A large part of Wumei wants to pull Xu Jin into his bedroom where they can keep kissing forever, but Xu Jin is smiling at Wumei and taking his hand and tugging him out of his chair. Wumei would follow that smile anywhere. So they go together, Wumei’s arm coming to rest around Xu Jin, to hear Luojing tell the story of The Murder of Xiao Pang.