Page 44 of From Beijing, With Love

It was a new feeling for him.

The soup was intensely umami, the absolute essence of the duck, and every spoonful made Daniel’s soul happy. When the last course came—a pile of duck pieces, bones and all, smothered in spices—Daniel could barely move.

“There isn’t much meat on the bones. It’s meant to be chewed on for the flavor and spat out,” Yang said as he picked up a piece by hand. “You have to eat it with your hand.”

Daniel did as he was told. The duck pieces were crispy, salty and spicy, making Daniel wish he had a cold beer to go with them.

“That was everything.” The aftermath of Daniel’s gluttony was washing over him—the bloat, the sweats, and the lack of brain function to string together a coherent sentence. None of it was sexy.

Yang hoisted Daniel up by the elbow. “Come on. We’ll walk it off.”

With Yang’s hand on him, Daniel suddenly wished he weren’t such an overindulgent mess and were instead in his post-shower-after-workout state when he was fresh, clean, and had a pump going.

Come to think of it, though, Yang had seen both versions of Daniel, and he seemed to get along better with this one.

“Was that life-changing?” Yang asked as they stepped into the cool night air.

Daniel turned to take one last look at the formidable facade of the restaurant, but his gaze found its way to Yang instead. Daniel thought about what it would feel like to run his fingers through Yang’s raven-black hair, to pull him in and kiss him after the best meal he’d ever had. Then Yang’s lips curled into that lopsided smile he wore so often and so well.

And Daniel knew the answer.

CHAPTER NINETEENYang

After three circles around the block, Yang found what he was looking for—the rusted iron gate between two high-rises, concealed by the overgrown foliage. He stuck his hand between the metal bars to unlatch the lock from the other side.

“Should you be doing that?” Daniel circled his finger in Yang’s vicinity, a skeptical brow raised.

“We are not breaking any rules.” Yang stretched the truth for Daniel’s sake—whatever it took to wipe that worried look away. The thing about being in China, with all its rules, was that bending the rules was an unspoken rule. It was the only way to exist.

“Right. I was confused by the locked gate, but carry on.”

Yang stepped into the narrow alley after he maneuvered the gate open. “This way.”

“Is this a good idea?” Daniel hissed as the gate creaked closed behind them.

“You’ll see,” Yang said, turning to check that Daniel was still following him.

Familiar music greeted him as he emerged from the alley. The park looked the same as it always did—the wooden gazebo with the vine-covered pillars and terra-cotta roof, the overgrown greenery and people buzzing about. A game of Go was in progress in the gazebo surrounded by spectators, while a jazz band formed by retirees played on. On all sides, they were surrounded by glassy high-rises dotted with lit windows, their lights cascading down onto the green courtyard, making it bright as day.

“What’s all this?” Daniel’s head swiveled as he took in the hexagonal space.

“By day, this courtyard belongs to these new office buildings, but by night, the neighborhood reclaims it.” Yang sat down on the wooden bench flanked by blooming hibiscus trees.

“And that’s okay?”

“It has to be.” Yang paused. “Living in a city like Beijing is hard. It’s constantly at war with itself. Its need to expand, to modernize, despite its historical shell. For a lot of people, living here can feel like being on the wrong end of a supply-versus-demand curve. Places like Hua Jie, like here, is how the locals … exist. These places are as much the real Beijing as the places we’ve toured. Maybe more so.”

“I wonder what this city was like three decades ago.” Daniel looked up at the glassy high-rises. “All of this must have come later.”

“Was that when your dad lived here?” Yang asked. When Daniel nodded in lieu of an answer, an ache rose in Yang’s throat. He should’ve known better. It’d been sixteen years since he lost his mom, and he still couldn’t really talk about her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up …”

“No, it’s all right. I don’t talk much about my dad because … well, I don’t know much.” Daniel shrugged in nonchalance, but the small grimace in his face betrayed him. “I was five when he passed away, so I don’t remember a whole lot about him. It was a car accident.”

Something slotted into place in Yang’s head then. Daniel’s anxiety with car rides, his insistence that Yang not drive last night … it now made a lot more sense.

Being stuck, trapped, and not being able to get out if something happens. Daniel’s words from a few nights ago replayed in Yang’s head, and Yang’s heart broke for that little five-year-old.

“Do you have other family in China?” Yang asked, more gently.