Page 21 of From Beijing, With Love

“Oh, it totally can. Back home I can see everything the neighbor does. I even know their favorite kind of beer.”

Yang considered Daniel’s words, his grip loosening on the curtain. As a cultural compromise, he closed the sheer blinds but left the blackout curtains open.

A smile danced across Daniel’s face. “Since you’re here, that must mean you got all your work done.”

“I did. Thanks again for your help,” Yang said, looking everywhere but at Daniel’s bare torso. The next part, though true, was harder for him to admit. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Of course you could’ve. I just made a pretty graph. Don’t even know what it means. The sciencey stuff was what mattered, and that was all you.”

Daniel’s words—earnest, truthful—made Yang meet his eyes. The last two days had been hellish—a hairline fracture in his confidence that spread further with each failed attempt at solving the problem. Only then did he realize how fragile that facade was and that behind it, he was an impostor. One on the verge of being outed. Every accolade and every achievement felt like a fluke. And when his luck ran out, people would see him for who he truly was—a fraud.

Then Daniel said those words. The exact ones Yang hadn’t known he needed to hear until they came out of Daniel’s mouth.

That was all you.

Something stirred in his chest, and he darted his eyes away.

He was glad when Daniel finally slipped on a white crew-neck tee. He headed for the door, ready to play tour guide, except Daniel didn’t follow him. Instead, Daniel circled the room like he was going through an invisible and rather extensive mental checklist.

“Everything okay?”

“Yep,” Daniel answered, with an artificial cheerfulness that Yang didn’t quite buy.

They took twice as long to leave the room than Daniel had promised. This didn’t surprise Yang, but what did surprise him was that he didn’t mind. He was just glad that Daniel was dressed appropriately for the blistering August heat.

“How’s your time in Beijing so far?” Yang asked as they waited for the elevator, using the professional tone he reserved for his tours, even though it didn’t feel quite right anymore. Something intangible had changed between them. It was almost like they were friends.

“Not bad. Just standard tourist stuff, you know. Climbed the Great Wall, got drunk on Chinese liquor without my wallet and had to be rescued, played programmer for a smart-ass biophysicist …” Daniel paused, a smile tugging on his lips as he lifted his chin. “Oh wait, you were there.”

Yang laughed, easing a little. “Besides tormenting your tour guide, what else have you accomplished on this trip?”

“Tormenting?”

The upward tilt at the end of that single word made Yang feel like he had just kicked a puppy. He spun around and came face-to-face with a mischievous grin. He shook his head, but his traitorous lips smiled. “Funny.”

“Why, thank you.” Daniel’s goofy grin, white with too many teeth, flooded Yang’s chest with something warm. He was definitely not just a tour guide anymore.

“Here.” He pulled out a bottle of water from his messenger bag. “I promise to find you the cleanest public washroom if you promise to drink your water.”

“The last two days are all screaming back,” Daniel said. The gold-tinted elevator doors gave his reflection a dreamlike quality, making him look like he’d just stepped out of one of those Hollywood movies Yang had watched growing up. The tragic love stories that his mom loved to rewatch, even though the endings always made her cry.

“You know I can see you, right?” Yang said as Daniel’s reflection nudged the water bottle behind the elaborate floral arrangement behind them. Their eyes met in the mirrored door. “Take the water.”

“You are very bossy, you know.”

“Where have I heard that before? Maybe at a dingy basement bar with crappy music and crappier booze?” Yang pondered for a second, his finger tapping on his chin, before tossing Daniel’s line back at him. “Oh wait, you were there.”

Yang had never cared about being funny, but when Daniel laughed and took the water, he found himself smiling.

The scorching sun beating down on them made the half-hour walk to Tiananmen Square feel a lot longer. But if walking instead of a car ride was what it took to make Daniel comfortable, Yang would happily walk those few kilometers and more.

He led the way down the broad avenue, the pavement smoldering under each step. Daniel bounded up next to him and kept pace, his head swiveling from side to side like he was afraid of getting lost. Something in that guileless face of his made Yang want to reassure him, but Yang didn’t know what to say.

“It’s … uh, a lot of people,” Daniel said as they waited at the ID-check line to enter the gated-off square.

“It’s Beijing.” Yang shrugged, scanning the sea of people ahead of them. Though he was well accustomed to the crowded capital city by now, this was a lot of people, even by Beijing standards. The problem was the domestic tour groups that were easily fifty plus in size. They arrived by the busload and moved like a single disorganized organism.

Yang cursed under his breath when a flag-waving tour guide herded another tour group in line behind them. They were pinned. The air smelled of cigarette smoke, sweaty bodies, and frustration. He could sense Daniel’s unease, wafting off him in waves, as they inched forward one step at a time.