Chapter 7: After Midnight

Tang woke first, on his right side, facing the window.

Rule one was holding.

At some point in the night it had held by four inches, and he lay and measured them with his back.

Behind him Fu breathed slowly, and the whole flat smelled of the barley tea he had left on the stove.

Nothing had happened.

It was a very simple fact, and Tang went over it three times in the dark.

He had asked, and Fu had said it did not count, and Fu had said it so calmly that Tang could have hit him.

He could still feel the exact place on his lip where the glasses had knocked.

When the alarm went he got up and said something loud about the six o'clock set.

Fu was already in the kitchen with the thermos and the notebook, dressed, with his sleeves pushed up.

"Morning," said Fu.

"Morning. Slept great. Nothing weird."

"Nothing weird," Fu agreed, and handed him the thermos.

Their fingers touched on the steel.

Neither of them moved for a moment longer than a thermos needed.

"Rule seven worked," said Tang, to the thermos.

"It's a good rule," said Fu. "You should be proud."

Tang went to practice and swam his best set of the month.

He did not know what to do with that, so he filed it under bro stuff and closed the drawer.

On Sunday they ate at Lin's Hot Pot.

It stood on a corner near the East Gate, with red lanterns over the door and a queue on the pavement.

The back room belonged to the family.

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