Ruse

by Cindy Pon

  I hugged Lingyi closer, but it felt as if the breath had been knocked from me.

  “I knew the risks, I told him. We all did,” she went on. “It was so easy to say, but . . .”

  It was something entirely different when you had to pay the price for taking that risk. It was something entirely different when your friend died. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry. But it’s not your fault—”

  “You’re the boss, Vic said to me. Followed by that grin.” Lingyi swiped at her eyes furiously. “I knew how he felt about me, and I didn’t take the chance to tell him how much he meant to me. It seemed so awkward. A chore.” She lifted her gaze. “I was a coward.”

  I shook my head. “No,” I replied. “You were only being human.”

  Lingyi stopped mid-sniffle and gave a hiccuped laugh. “That’s such a Zhou response. Do you have a book example to share?”

  “Probably on any other night.” I gave her a lopsided smile, then squeezed her hand, the one not clutching a damp tissue. “It’s not your fault,” I repeated in a hoarse voice.

  “Well, it isn’t yours, either,” Lingyi said back.

  We sat like that for some time, in silence, taking comfort in grieving together. Finally, she gave me a sad smile and kissed me on the cheek, just as a big sister would her little brother to try and make him feel better. I noticed the dark shadows beneath her eyes. “What about you and Daiyu?” Lingyi’s eyes were red-rimmed, but her gaze sharpened when she posed the question.

  I placed the book back on the bedside table. “Gods. Do we need to talk about this now?”

  The corner of her mouth curled up. “I think we do.”

  “The boss is back,” I replied, only half-jokingly.

  “What happened in the hotel room?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” I stared up at the ceiling. “It was awkward. . . .”

  Lingyi nodded, easing back so she could see my face, pulling her sweater sleeves over her hands. I decided to come clean; now I definitely felt as if I were being interrogated by a big sister.

  “Especially after what happened at the clinic yesterday,” I went on. “Daiyu was there.”

  “What?”

  “She had equipment delivered to help—it arrived sooner than what we were able to order.”

  “Why wasn’t this all over the news?”

  I shook my head. “She donated anonymously. She wanted to be certain the equipment got delivered, but she was hiding from the reporters. Daiyu said she didn’t want it to be all-media news.”

  “Or maybe she was keeping it from Jin?” Lingyi arched an eyebrow.

  “That, too. She’s still the heir to Jin Corp.”

  “You talked about this?” Her eyes brightened. “Tell me everything.”

  I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to think about Daiyu. But I told Lingyi what had happened tonight in Daiyu’s hotel room.

  Lingyi leaned forward while I spoke, seeming to hang on every word, as if I were recounting the plot from one of her manhua. “And do you believe her? What she said about changing things from within?”

  I closed my eyes and pictured Daiyu in my mind; the way she always claimed her space with assurance and that stubborn tilt of her chin when she was ready to tackle a challenge. I thought about how she had lied to me and kept in touch with Jin all this time, and her possible reasoning behind the deception. “I do,” I finally replied. “I believe her.”

  “But do you trust her?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

  My head snapped up, and our eyes met. “I instinctively trusted her before I had any reason to, and I’ve never stopped.”

  “Because she is in the perfect position to steal the prototype back,” Lingyi said. “Can we trust her to help us take Jin down?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  DAIYU

  Daiyu forced herself to stay at her father’s gala until midnight, when it officially ended. She managed to make polite talk with possible buyers and investors for Jin Corp’s future “vertical cities” but wouldn’t have been able to say who she spoke to or what the conversation was about. She couldn’t stop thinking about her encounter with Jason earlier—how her heart had lifted when she saw him unexpectedly at the suite door, and how painful it was to stand so near to each other, but feel worlds apart.

  The crowd had thinned only slightly. Even though the gala was supposed to end at midnight, many of the guests would stay as long as there was food, drink, and entertainment. Her father’s parties usually lasted well into the night. Daiyu wove her way through the crowd, hoping no one would stop her to chat. She found her father engaged in an intense discussion with a woman wearing a jade-green jacket and black trousers. Daiyu recognized the woman as a high government official her father had been wooing and giving large bribes to in order to acquire all the permits needed to build Jin Tower. Not wanting to interrupt, Daiyu managed to catch her father’s eye. He gave a slight nod of his head when she lifted a hand, indicating she was leaving. It meant she was free to go.

  Although her father had been an absent parent for most of her life, Daiyu had learned to follow his rules or suffer the consequences. After her parents divorced, her contact with her mother had been limited, because her father hadn’t allowed it. Daiyu had grown up knowing that although her father usually paid no attention to her, one misstep when his eyes were on her meant she’d pay the price: the birthday card and gift from her mom she had eagerly been waiting for thrown in the trash bin in front of her or a childhood pet gone with no explanation. Like she had told Jason, Daiyu had learned early when to pick her battles. And even when she had chosen to go up against her father, she had always done so subversively—never challenging him openly.

  Daiyu couldn’t leave the ballroom quickly enough. Thousands of Swarovski crystals threaded through silver wire hung from the ballroom ceiling, dangling at various lengths over the guests. They threw sparkling light across the space, shimmering the room with magic. Larger-than-life emerald and ruby dragons with glowing scales decorated one ballroom wall, matched by sapphire and gold phoenixes opposite. The servers wore bejeweled and feathered masks covering their eyes and brows, adding to the feeling of enchantment. She hurried past a large holographic projection of Jin Tower, which was lit in a floor-to-ceiling silver column in the middle of the room, rotating slowly so the attendees could admire the building from all angles. Whatever she might think of her father, Daiyu had to admit that he knew how to throw a party.

  After taking the special elevator up to the presidential suite floor, Daiyu stripped off her high heels the moment the heavy door swung shut behind her. She left them in the entryway beneath an inlaid table adorned with orchids in ceramic pots.

  And despite knowing it made no sense, she went down the long hallway leading to her father’s master suite. The door was closed firmly, and she turned the handle, part of her expecting Jason to still be there, hidden somewhere in the darkness. She voice-commanded the lights on, and they showed her father’s immaculate room—it looked unlived in. He had a fixation on being orderly and keeping everything in its place. As a child, any toy, barrette, jewelry, or item of clothing that was left on a table or chair in their huge mansion was promptly thrown away by the housekeeper, as instructed by her father.

  The room smelled faintly of her father’s cologne, the only indication he occupied it. She glanced at her Palm for the time, then headed into the master closet. Detecting her motion, the lights slowly turned on to a warm glow when she entered. Jason had said that her father was the cause behind the tragedy at the Qibao clinic, and he was right. She had seen the air filter herself the following morning and hid behind a corner to listen in. . . .

  Dr. Shen, Jin Corp’s lead engineer from Taipei, crouched in front of the device, which was set on a low glass table. The filter was dark gray and about the size of a small antique printer—rectangular and clunky.

  “This is no ordinary filter, Mr. Jin.” Dr. Shen had removed the outer shell and was scrutinizing its inner work
ings. “It uses a chemical catalyst that converts pollutants. The reverse engineering would take time, and there’s no guarantee the prototype won’t be destroyed in the process.” He stood; Daiyu didn’t miss that the engineer took a step away from her father, trying to distance himself. “I’m afraid it’s beyond my own scope of knowledge,” he said, and bowed his head in apology. “You would need to find a highly skilled chemical engineer.”

  Although her father’s expression betrayed nothing, he drew taller, and the air seemed to thicken with tension. He wasn’t happy. She slipped back into her room to change, then reemerged, moving quietly down the hallway, just in time to see her father carrying the filter back toward his suite. The machine was cumbersome, and obviously heavy, but not so much that he couldn’t manage it himself.

  Dr. Shen was nowhere in sight.

  Now Daiyu easily located her father’s large safe tucked in the spacious master closet. She was familiar with his safes. Her father had had many of them throughout the years, always upgraded to the highest tech and security. She ran her hand across the cold metal door. There was no keypad, no lock, no indication of how the safe was opened. The only thing that stood out was a glowing red light set at eye level, no larger than a laser point. A voice-commanded safe, then, her father’s new favorite.

  A wave of nausea hit her. Those deaths, the infants and toddlers who had suffered at the Qibao clinic . . . Your father did this. The blood is on his hands, Jason had shouted at her, his eyes appearing wild, the rage and pain clearly written on his face. In that moment, he had looked like a stranger. But he had every right to feel enraged. Daiyu knew how painful his mother’s death had been for Jason, leaving him alone in this world. How helpless he had felt that he couldn’t save her.

  And her father had shown again how little he cared about the lives of others, as long as he could get what he wanted, no matter what the cost.

  She remembered the argument they’d had earlier that night and felt again, deep in her chest, his hurt and disappointment in her for remaining the heir to Jin Corp: It sends a message. She had no idea he’d feel so strongly about it, but maybe she was lying to herself. Because why else had she never mentioned it in their last, blissful six months together?

  Pinpricks suddenly crawled across her scalp, and she left her father’s suite, voice-commanding the room dark. Knowing him, he’d be at the party for some time, but he would be suspicious if he found her in his suite. Daiyu retreated to her own bedroom, picking up her high heels along the way. When she finally climbed into bed, her body was exhausted, but her mind kept going, relentlessly playing her exchange with Jason over and over.

  If you had to stand against him, could you?

  She shoved off the thick duvet and voice-commanded the sounds of a soothing tropical rain to play, yet she still couldn’t sleep.

  A little after one a.m., she received a message from an unknown number: are you able to meet somewhere? j

  Her pulse began to race. It was the last thing she had expected from Jason. She lay on her side, waiting for her heartbeat to slow, before dictating: Tianzifang today at noon. Stall 129.

  you can come alone? he replied.

  Yes.

  see you then.

  Daiyu stared at the messages exchanged for some time, until she heard the suite door shut and her father’s footsteps echo across the marble floor. Her father never checked in on her, had never even been to this side of the suite as far as she knew. Still, she shoved her Palm beneath her pillow and squeezed her eyes shut.

  The few times she had traveled with her father, she always had her own more modest suite. But this time, he had made her stay in the presidential suite with him, sending the unspoken message that her movements would be watched—so she’d better behave.

  Instead of drifting to sleep, Daiyu mulled over the different ways she could leave the hotel tomorrow without her father’s hired security following.

  Daiyu rarely ate breakfast with her father and only upon his request. They were far from close. If anyone asked, she’d describe their relationship as businesslike. Her father viewed her as another asset—an investment in Jin Corp’s future—and she’d always played along. And when her father had requested her presence in Shanghai, she had initially balked, but Daiyu had to consider, as she always did, if this was a fight worth having with him. It didn’t seem to be: show up, smile stiffly, and pose for photos.

  “Your environmental efforts in Taiwan have been charming,” her father had said over their call, offering a close-mouthed smile. “I’ve allowed you to carry on because it helped Jin Corp’s image.” He blinked twice, slowly, and she clamped down on the urge to shudder. “But it’s time to show everyone where your true alliance lies, Daughter.”

  The morning after the gala, Daiyu dressed in a silk floral shirt paired with a beige skirt—understated and expensive was what her father liked—and greeted him at the large dining table at eight a.m. He had been reading the news on his Palm and set the device down. “Daughter,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise.” He indicated the seat to his left. Her father was sitting at the head of the ten-person table.

  “Good morning, Father.” She slipped into the chair and the suite’s butler, a tall man named Mr. Han, entered and poured coffee for her. Daiyu took a small sip; it was hot but not enough to burn, and she gratefully drank until half the cup was gone. She then helped herself to yogurt and fresh blueberries.

  “What are your plans for the day?” her father asked, taking a slice of wheat toast from the toast rack, then buttering it with precise motions. He had always preferred a Western-style breakfast, despite all the delicious Taiwanese morning choices.

  “I’d like to go shopping for a dress for Jin Tower’s opening ceremony,” she replied. “A special dress for the occasion.”

  He nodded in approval. “It’s too late to have a couture dress made. But go pick something out—I trust your taste. Put it on my account.”

  “Thank you, Father.” She touched the jade pendant that hung from her neck, a rare gift from him when she had turned sixteen. He saw the pendant and his lips curved ever so slightly. “But I’d like to go alone.”

  Her father raised an eyebrow.

  “Please,” she said. “There’s nothing worse than shopping for hours for a dress when security is trailing you at every step. It makes all the salespeople nervous too. I’ll take Xiao Wu with me. I promise I’ll be careful.”

  Xiao Wu was her chauffeur in Shanghai. Her father thought he had hired him, but it was Daiyu who had sent the man to interview for the job. And Xiao Wu was getting paid double: once from Jin, but with an even higher salary from Daiyu to be discreet and keep his mouth shut. The man was shrewd and took the deal. The advantage to rarely going against her father’s wishes was that when she wanted a favor, they always seemed innocent and easy enough to grant as a reward for her obeying.

  Her father considered her with those intense eyes that weighed every choice as to how it benefited him, then finally nodded. “It’ll be a nice day. Enjoy your shopping trip.”

  Daiyu flashed a demure smile, then felt a sharp pang of hurt, not because it was necessary to lie to her father, but because any other daughter probably would have thrown her arms around her dad in gratitude. Perhaps even given him a kiss on the cheek. Or—and Daiyu couldn’t fathom this for herself—maybe the dad would actually kiss his daughter on the cheek, mussing her hair with affection.

  All these things she’d never known and would never know.

  But her father had seen agreeing to this request as something that cost him nothing and would garner more positive feelings and loyalty from her. Daiyu had counted on this.

  He picked up his Palm again and said, “I’ll be taking an important call soon and have a busy day ahead.”

  And with that, she was dismissed. Daiyu grabbed a slice of toast and carried her refilled coffee cup with her back into her suite. She downed the rest of her coffee before messaging Xiao Wu: You’re taking me shopping today, but I
won’t be with you. If my father messages, I’m in the dressing room.

  Xiao Wu replied immediately: Yes, Ms. Jin.

  Her father was right: It was a nice day. By the time she left, her father had already gone, after speaking with another man for a long time on his Palm. She climbed into her white airlimo from the Peninsula’s enclosed rooftop garage and instructed Xiao Wu to take her to Plaza 66 on Nanjing Road, known for its designer flagship stores. “I’ll meet you back here in a few hours,” Daiyu said when they got there.

  Xiao Wu gave her a thumbs-up. “Yes, Ms. Jin.”

  She tossed her Palm onto the backseat of the car. She wasn’t certain if her father tracked her on the device; he had never asked to connect with her. But that didn’t mean anything.

  Daiyu quickly disappeared down the crowded street of shoppers, most wearing face masks. But the yous did not, as the necessity to cover one’s face was an affliction for the poor meis. The rich had the privilege of being shuttled by airlimo from destination to destination to regulated spaces. Their time spent outdoors with exposed faces was rare, and usually short, but the way the women scurried in their designer dresses and heels into the huge shopping center with handkerchiefs pressed to their noses showed Daiyu they didn’t like this inconvenience one bit. The yous’ lives had certainly been affected after losing the use of her father’s suits.

  She knew that her father would begin production of his suits again in a year’s time or so in Beijing. Daiyu was working against the clock in pushing environmental legislation through in Taiwan. She hailed another airlimo easily and asked to be taken to Tianzifang. Even her short time outdoors had brought a sheen of sweat across her forehead, and she coughed, watching the airlimo lift to give an expansive view of the thick brown smog that hung over Shanghai. They drifted above the crowded shopping district on Nanjing Road—all glittering glass and opulence.