Page 84 of From Beijing, With Love

He biked past a sign with big Chinese characters on it—black on yellow like a hornet. He ignored it.

He needed to make it to the exit so he could get down from the damn wall. That was the plan, until he blew through yellow construction tape like someone winning the worst marathon. Ahead of him was a sentry building with bricks piled in front of it. He spun his pedals backward to engage the pedal brake. Except there was none.

He squeezed the hand brake, and the front wheel of his bike halted. However, the rest of the bike didn’t get the same memo as it continued its forward surge, the momentum tossing Daniel over the handlebars.

Thump.

Onto the pile of bricks.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXYang

“Slow down!” Yang yelled. He didn’t like the suffocating tightness in his chest, nor did he like chasing after a man who was behaving like a child. On a bike. On an ancient wall. Blowing past a caution sign. “Stop, there’s—”

The words died in his mouth as Daniel fell off—or rather, over—his bike. In a sickly, spectacular fashion, Daniel landed with a thud on the mound of bricks.

Yang’s brain went blank. He shoved his bike aside, not caring in the least as it fell to the ground with a metallic clang that sliced through the silence.

“Are you …” He held a shaky hand over Daniel.

“I’m okay.” Daniel pushed himself into a seated position, wincing.

“Come here.” Yang hoisted Daniel up by his arm and walked him a few steps over to the sentry building. Sitting Daniel down on the short flight of stairs at its base, he searched for injuries. “Where does it hurt?”

“I don’t know. Everywhere, really,” Daniel said, wide-eyed and paler than Yang had ever seen him. They seemed to register the blood streaming from the gash on Daniel’s right knee at the same time. Daniel’s mouth slackened at the sight. His voice dropped to a broken whisper. “Don’t worry. I’m okay. I think?”

The upturn at the end of his sentence wasn’t reassuring in the least.

“I would believe you if you were not bleeding.” Yang winced at the volume of his own voice. He couldn’t be mad at Daniel right now, not when he was hurt. Right?

Wrong. He was livid.

“Why the hell did you just do that? You are lucky you didn’t fall over the edge!” Yang clenched his fist to stop the shake in his hand, his voice loud and ugly.

“I’m sorry. I just needed …”

“Needed what?”

“Nothing.”

There was that word again. Nothing. That was what Daniel had said before everything went wrong. Hearing it again now was a punch to the gut, like Yang still didn’t deserve an honest answer after all they’d been through. It stung.

Focusing his eyes on the paint cans under the vermillion window frame, he took a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to dwell on his hurt feelings, because Daniel was bleeding on the damn wall.

“Let me look at your knee.” Yang turned Daniel’s knee toward the dim light of the hanging lantern and let out a sigh. “The cut doesn’t look too deep. No need for stitches, but we have to clean it up.”

He slung Daniel’s arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet. His own body lit up from the simple closeness, like it didn’t know his heart was breaking.

They were several kilometers shy of making the full loop on the wall. He wasn’t going to walk for another hour to the exit with Daniel’s arm around him, for both of their sakes.

“Get on the back of my bike,” he ordered.

“I can bike back on my own.”

Yang clenched his jaw and gritted out, “I’m not going to let you bleed all over the damn wall.”

“You paid a deposit for the bike. We can’t just leave it here,” Daniel said with an air of petulance.

Great, Yang was dealing with a child. He was going to lose his damn mind.