If You Could See the Sun (89)

Then I realize that he’s laughing.

All my concern boils into indignation.

“It’s not funny,” I protest, my cheeks hot, my voice coming out embarrassingly shrill. “This—this was meant to be a very serious, touching moment, and you were meant to fall desperately in love with me on the spot and discover how good I am—”

The rest of my words die on my tongue as Henry straightens, laughter still dancing in his eyes, cups my face in one hand, and presses his lips against mine.

This time, I do register the kiss, everything from the warmth of his skin to the brush of his lashes when he closes his eyes and—

Wow.

It’s nothing like the way they describe it in the movies, like all the stars aligning and fireworks exploding across an ink-black sky. It feels both quieter and bigger than that, as simple as coming home and as dizzying and all-encompassing as the wind rushing in around us. It feels like a thousand banished and buried moments have been building up to this—to us alone and untethered and weak with wanting—and maybe they have.

A low, embarrassing sound escapes the base of my throat.

Henry responds by leaning deeper into the kiss, and the world goes hazy. All I can think about is his lips, so devastatingly soft on mine, and his hands, now firm around the back of my neck, tangling deep in the roots of my hair...

There’s a slight chance that he’s better at this than I am.

Just this once, I’ll let him have it.





20


I barely remember the car ride from Airington to my apartment. I’d let Henry’s chauffeur drive us, partly because I wanted to be around Henry as long as time would allow, and partly because I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to take the subway without getting lost. My mind felt numb, hot, like it’d been set aflame. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t even breathe properly.

Worse still, I couldn’t stop glancing at Henry’s lips, even as he walked me to my front door and waved goodbye. This, I suppose, is one of those unexpected side effects of kissing that no one ever warned me about: after you kiss someone once, the possibilities of kissing them again are endless.

But now, sitting back down inside my cluttered living room, the idea of making out with Henry Li is the last thing on my mind.

Both Xiaoyi and Mama went out while I was still at school—Xiaoyi, to get a foot massage, and Mama, to handle something at the hospital—leaving only Baba and me in the flat.

“I just got call from your school,” Baba tells me as he enters the room.

I watch him carefully from the couch, assessing his expression, his tone. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Henry that Baba and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms these days; he only addresses me when necessary, and always with a heavy air of disappointment. But the near-permanent furrow between his brows appears to have smoothed out a little, and he’s approaching me directly. Good signs.

“A call?” I say, feigning surprise.

“Yes.” He moves to sit on the opposite end of the couch, the springs creaking under his weight. “They told me about app... What’s the name... China Ghoul?”

My pulse speeds up.

“Beijing Ghost, you mean?”

He nods slowly, and continues in Mandarin, “Why didn’t you tell me or the teachers earlier you were part of the study group?”

“I guess...” I fumble for the right words, for an answer as close to the truth as possible without giving everything away. “I was scared it’d seem suspicious. I mean, I did make a lot of money off the app—just through tutoring. Over one hundred thousand RMB. I was worried you or the school would make me give it back.”

Baba’s eyes widen a fraction with shock. “One hundred thousand RMB?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “It’s a lot, I know. Hence why I was worried...”

“And you earned that much only by helping your classmates study? Nothing else?”

I have to laugh, though nothing about the question is really funny. Just ironic. “Well, you and Mama spend almost all your income on my school fees,” I point out. “Is it so surprising that other kids would want to invest in their education, too?”

“Hmph,” is all he says, but I can tell he believes me.

“Anyway,” I continue, more quietly. Sincerely. “I’m really sorry things turned out the way they did. I just... When Andrew offered me the money, all I could think of was how you and Mama were struggling to pay for school—how you were struggling because of me. At the time, his offer seemed like the quickest solution to everything. Like completing the task might somehow allow me to pay you guys back.” I swallow and press my hands together to keep from fidgeting. Every word feels like pulling teeth. “But I was being irrational, and greedy, and just...incredibly dumb. And I understand if—if you can’t forgive me, or if you plan on being disappointed in me for all of eternity, but... I wanted to say I’m sorry, Baba. That’s all.”

Baba takes a deep breath, and I hold mine, anticipating yet another lecture. But it doesn’t come.

Instead, he places a gentle hand on my head, briefly, the way he used to when I was a kid, whenever I was scared or injured or couldn’t fall asleep at night. When I look up in surprise, all the anger is gone from his eyes.

“Alice,” he says. “Your Mama and I don’t work hard for you to repay us. We work hard so that you can have a better life. An easier life. And sending you to Airington—that was our choice. Spending our income on your school fees—that was also our choice. In no way should you feel obligated to take on the burden of our decisions for us. Is that clear?”