Page 54 of From Beijing, With Love

“This is zhou, which is rice porridge. You eat it with youtiao. It’s kind of like a savory doughnut stick, for my not-American tourist,” Yang said, his face growing warm at calling Daniel his.

“What’s in the porridge?” Daniel asked as he dipped his youtiao into the zhou.

“Seafood for you and pork and century egg for me … I’ve never seen anyone eat youtiao and zhou like that. Other than children. Young children.” Yang nudged Daniel’s knee with his own. “Come to think of it, there’s a theme. Remember when you made us jump on the trampoline?”

“It’s a fried stick and porridge. This is the only way to eat it. Try.” Daniel dipped the golden youtiao into the zhou again and held it up to Yang. The gesture felt more intimate than it logically should. Yang stared at the offering for a second before taking the bite.

“And?” Daniel’s hazel eyes gleamed.

“It tastes as one would expect,” Yang said. It was the truth. And he would have left it at that if Daniel were anyone else. “But you are a culinary genius for this invention.”

After the meal, Daniel stowed the garbage away and wiped down the desk, his movements meticulous and tense. Yang had an inkling of what it was about.

“Today, I was thinking that maybe we can …” Yang watched Daniel freeze, as if bracing himself. “Take it easy and watch a movie in the room? But no room service. We’ll order delivery from a real restaurant.”

The way Daniel’s taut shoulders relaxed meant Yang had gotten it right. And truth be told, if this was going to be their last day together, there were other things Yang would rather do with Daniel that were best kept inside the hotel room.

With the fluffy hotel pillows propped up behind them, they settled in the middle of the bed. Daniel suggested a movie set in Amsterdam so he could show Yang where he lived. There was an easy domesticity to it, like the distant memory of Yang’s parents cuddling on the couch watching their favorite Chinese drama before she got sick.

For the first time in a long time, Yang felt simply content in the moment. He wasn’t running an endless race, metaphorical or otherwise. He had the whole day ahead of him with his favorite version of Daniel—the one who was worry-free. Then he felt Daniel lean on him, tentatively, like dipping a toe into the cold pool. Yang wanted to laugh, but he just stayed put, letting Daniel’s weight settle on him over time, on Daniel’s terms.

“There cannot be that many bikes in Amsterdam,” Yang said as the camera panned over rows upon rows of bikes chained to racks alongside the Amsterdam canal.

“Fact: There are more bikes than people in the Netherlands,” Daniel said, his hand finding Yang’s. “If you’re ever in Amsterdam, I’ll take you on a bike tour.”

“Will I see windmills and tulips?” Yang asked as he glanced at their interlaced fingers. He liked this, all of this, a little too much.

“That I can promise,” Daniel said with an earnest smile that looked devastatingly hopeful.

“Then I’ll be there,” Yang said, making an empty promise. In this unhurried moment in bed with Daniel, it was easy to pretend they had all the time in the world.

Yang woke to a shrill notification and found himself curled around Daniel. The carb-laden breakfast—or the easy comfort of being with Daniel—had lulled Yang into the most restful sleep he’d had in a long while.

“What time is it?” Daniel stirred beside him.

“I … don’t know,” Yang answered, his brain occupied with Daniel’s proximity. The ridges of Daniel’s back muscles that could be felt through the robe, the lingering scent of shampoo mixed with the scent of his skin.

“You could check?” Daniel laughed, rolling around to face Yang, but not before pushing his ass not so subtly into Yang’s hard-on. This was the comeuppance for all the times Yang had teased him.

Yang forced his eyes down to his phone. “Damn it,” he said under his breath as he registered the notification: Meiwen’s birthday soirée. He pushed himself up. “I completely forgot. My friend’s birthday party is in an hour.”

Daniel’s face did nothing to hide his disappointment. “If you have to run …”

It dawned on Yang that he didn’t want to leave Daniel. This was their last night together. Before he could change his mind, he said, “Come with me.”

“To your friend’s birthday party? Wouldn’t that be weird?” Daniel’s forehead spelled worry, but there was also a hint of a smile on his lips.

“It’s at some cocktail bar in Sanlitun, this posh neighborhood on the east side. And she probably invited so many people that we’ll hardly see her. We could just make an appearance, grab a drink in a quiet corner, and slip out. I bet they have that orange cocktail you love so much,” Yang said with a smile. Come to think of it, Daniel might actually enjoy Sanlitun with its upscale bars and designer labels, given his preference for five-star accommodations.

Daniel thought about it for a long while. When he eventually nodded, Yang let out a breath.

“I’ll make it up to you after.” Yang raised Daniel’s hand to his lips and kissed each fingertip one by one, relieved at the extra few hours he’d just earned.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEYang

“I know I’m not from here and all, but this doesn’t look like a bar.” Daniel craned his neck to look between the bamboo slats.

The name of the place, scrawled across the building exterior in big, stylized font, sank in. Jiuguo. Jiu meant alcohol, and Yang had inconveniently neglected the second half of the name, which meant pot.