Chapter 6: The Lift

On the sixth night the driver was off with a fever, and Lu Wen stayed on the forty-first floor until midnight.

Qiao Min had asked him to check the Norvane terms in the draft heads of agreement.

It was proper work, paid by the hour, and it did not involve lying to anyone.

He sat alone at the long table with a pot of cold tea and found two clauses where "berth" and "quay" had been swapped.

He corrected them in pencil.

At twelve he gathered his papers.

The corridor lights were on a timer and had dimmed to half.

Yan was waiting by the lift, in his shirtsleeves, with his jacket over one arm.

He did not say he had been waiting.

"Qiao Min says you caught the quay error," he said.

"There were two."

"Thank you."

The lift came and they stepped in, and the doors shut on the quiet.

Lu Wen watched the numbers.

"May I say something that isn't on the list?" he asked.

"You may."

"Your sentences have been different since the fourth day."

Yan kept his eyes on the panel.

"Different how?"

"They hurt more to hear," said Lu Wen. "But they come apart better."

He frowned at the floor numbers.

"Each one has a place in the middle where it can be cut. It's very kind of you."

"I haven't been kind to anyone."

"You've been careless in a convenient direction," said Lu Wen. "I'll take it."

Something in the set of Yan's shoulders eased, and then tightened again.

Lu Wen shifted his papers to the other arm.

The edge of one page had cut the pad of his thumb.

It was a thin red line, and he pressed the thumb to his trouser leg to hide it.

"You're bleeding," said Yan.

"It's paper."

"Give it here."

He said it so shortly that Lu Wen obeyed before thinking.

Yan took his wrist in one hand and turned the thumb to the light.

His fingers were warm and dry, and the grip was careful.

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