Chapter 3
THE GUESTS HAD ALL LEFT, and the drunken Tao Ran was now off dreaming in another dimension. The faint scent of alcohol permeated the well-lit living room—sour, sweet, sticky, and a little cloying. Fei Du turned off the air conditioning, opened the windows, and used the brand-new coffee machine to make himself a shot of espresso. The espresso sat at the corner of the table, emanating heat and a heavy scent.
A summer breeze blew past Luo Wenzhou’s face. He shook the water from his hands, pressed the cold base of his palm to his forehead, and sighed, exasperated. “Could you be a little more subtle, young man? We all learn as children in the Young Pioneers3 to do good deeds without seeking credit. If you just put everything out in the open like that, where’s the beauty?”
Fei Du didn’t respond. It looked like he had frozen over; his pretentions seemed to have slipped and given way to true seriousness. Looking at him, it struck Luo Wenzhou that he wasn’t the only one feeling awkward. With that eidetic memory of his, Fei-zong must still remember that time when he’d played the PSP throughout his visit to the municipal bureau while mouthing off to Luo Wenzhou.
Luo Wenzhou made a good-faith attempt to picture himself in Fei Du’s shoes; he felt all his hair stand on end, and his gaze quickly took on a “hackles raised” filter. Looking at Fei-zong again, Luo Wenzhou sensed that every inch of him, from his pursed lips and the unnatural way his fingers dug into his side to the avoidant gaze behind his glasses, looked desperately uncomfortable.
When a person felt awkward, whatever they said or did often made things worse. On the other hand, the most immediate cure was always to realize that the other party felt the same way.
Luo Wenzhou smiled and slowly put his hand in his pocket. He tilted his head down and put a cigarette in his mouth, his eyes flicking downward, then up to take a good look at Fei Du. “What? You finally realized the person you’ve been taking jabs at all these years is actually a good guy?” Since his mouth was occupied by the cigarette, his voice came out a little nasal. “Don’t worry, baby. Don’t be nervous. A model citizen like myself would never demand that someone casually pay him back with their body.”
Fei Du’s features were like a hand-drawn mask, a defense as strong as a steel wall. He had near-perfect control of his expression and body language, especially when he was nervous, and would never let the slightest hint of emotion through. Compared to him, Zhao Haochang—who’d told nothing but lies—was as guileless as they came.
Not responding to Luo Wenzhou’s half jokes, Fei Du eventually picked up the little cup of espresso. A thin layer of oil floated on top, and small ripples cut across the surface of the beverage as Fei Du moved. He didn’t add any sugar, as though he’d lost his sense of taste. He drank most of it in silence.
He’d had a few drinks earlier, and hadn’t really eaten much, so he was pretty much running on empty. The alcohol and caffeine instantly combined into a blood-pressure booster that induced Fei Du’s heart to pump a deluge of blood into his veins. His heart’s suddenly rapid and uneven pounding made Fei Du slightly sick; cold sweat covered his palms.
“Don’t drink that,” Luo Wenzhou warned him automatically.
Fei Du’s palm cradled the warm ceramic mug. The corners of his lips lifted, and he responded with an empty smile. “It’s true that I’ve turned out all right for someone who’s constantly ready to take out a hit on his own father. That’s all thanks to your years of care, Sergeant Luo.”
His words felt inexplicably terse to Luo Wenzhou. Before he could fully untangle that, Fei Du downed the rest of his espresso in one go. Perhaps it was too bitter for him; his brow furrowed, and he tipped his head back, creating a sharply curved arc from his chin to his neck.
Fei Du set the cup down, nodded, and turned to leave. “I’m going to head out. Say goodbye to Tao Ran for me.”
“Hey—don’t drink and drive,” Luo Wenzhou reminded him almost instinctively.
Fei Du ignored him.
“Did you hear me?” Luo Wenzhou pressed.
Fei Du reached for the door with a blank expression. It didn’t seem like he had.
His warning having gone unheeded twice, Luo Wenzhou was forced to take matters into his own hands. He grabbed Fei Du’s arm, pulled it behind him skillfully, and held it with Fei Du’s hand at the small of his back, the way he would have while arresting a criminal. Then he yanked him away from the door.
Fei Du stared at him in silence.
“You just don’t listen.” Ignoring Fei Du’s shocked gaze, Luo Wenzhou pressed one hand down on the back of his neck and, with the other hand still holding Fei Du’s elbow, escorted him to the lounge chair three steps away. “Sit down. You can take a nap, or I can call you a driver.”