Page 63 of From Beijing, With Love

“Does she know you are here?” Poppy asked, like she didn’t already know the answer.

“No,” Daniel said after a beat.

“Maybe you should tell her when you get back.” Poppy gave his arm a pinch. “She’ll be happy you took the trip.”

“Maybe.” Daniel tried for a smile. His Chinese heritage wasn’t so much a sore subject between him and his mother as a nonexistent one. Maybe it reminded her he wasn’t Dutch enough. Or maybe it reminded her too much of his dad.

Daniel leaned forward and rested his forehead on Poppy’s shoulder. “Sorry, Pops, our little mission clearly isn’t working out. It’s probably for the best. We don’t even know if he’d want to see me.”

Poppy didn’t rush in with her usual flood of reassurance, which could only mean she agreed with him. Pulling her phone out, she scrolled through it with her brows pinched together. Then she lifted the phone to her ear.

“Who—”

Poppy held up a finger and turned away, a string of Mandarin flying out of her mouth in rapid fire. The only words Daniel understood were his own name and the word coffee.

“Poppy! What are you doing?” Daniel hissed, his chest tightening again.

Poppy scanned the train station on tippy-toes like she was looking for someone.

“Yang hasn’t boarded his train yet, and he’s on his way here now. I remembered I had his contact info from when I booked those tours for you,” Poppy said, triumphant, like she had just solved all the problems in the world.

No, no, no.

Panic surged through Daniel, but it came out like a burst of anger. Red and ugly. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“It’s gonna be okay.” Poppy’s voice was soft and pleading, which made Daniel feel like he was the absolute worst.

It wasn’t going to be okay because he wasn’t okay. He’d stupidly, foolishly, followed a guy he met just a week ago to the train station like a superstalker. Except that he couldn’t even follow through with that without a fucking meltdown.

This is all just a lot. I just can’t do it anymore. Taylor’s words played back in his ears, coupled with Taylor’s cold eyes and their contempt. Their annoyance. Their pity.

Yang couldn’t want this. Yang couldn’t want him.

Just fucking breathe.

Just. Fucking. Breathe.

All the passersby were looking at Daniel for the spectacle that he was, sweating through his T-shirt and sick to his stomach. Daniel had to get away. He couldn’t let Yang see him like this—panicked, sick.

Broken.

He did the only thing he could think of. He made a run for it, diving into the very current of human bodies that he was so afraid of, leaving Poppy behind.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENYang

“What do you mean, you lost him?” Yang glared at Poppy while trying to keep his voice even. He had just met this woman and she was Daniel’s best friend, so yelling at her was probably not the best idea.

“What do you think it means? Enlighten me, why don’t you?” Poppy crossed her arms. She apparently had no qualms about yelling at people she had just met. Despite being shorter than Yang, she had a towering attitude. “He just ran off. I couldn’t exactly follow him with all this luggage.”

“Stay here. I’ll find him.” Throwing his own duffel on the ground, Yang dashed away before Poppy could protest.

The upper concourse of the station consisted of one long corridor with waiting rooms branching off on both sides, leading to the gates. Between the waiting rooms were grab-and-go stalls and souvenir shops. Daniel could be in any one of them.

Then Yang spotted him amongst the travelers on the other end of the corridor. He called out to Daniel, but his voice was lost in the sea of noise. Taking out his phone, he dialed Daniel’s number, only to watch Daniel decline his call.

That action hurt a surprising amount and brought with it the memory of when he’d asked Daniel to come to Xi’an with him a day ago. Daniel’s lack of an answer then was an answer in itself. Yet here he was, at the train station, looking like a stray animal desperately seeking safe refuge.

When there was a lull in the foot traffic, Daniel disappeared into a nearby waiting room.