Morning light cut across the bedroom floor in thin lines.
I was already dressed when Xu sat up and rubbed her eyes. She looked at me for a longer moment than usual, gaze dropping to my collarbone and the empty space where the pendant should have been.
“You are not wearing it,” she said.
My hand went to my neck on instinct. The crescent was still in the small box on the nightstand, exactly where I had left it.
“It might get dirty,” I answered. “I am keeping it safe.”
The real reason sat quieter in my chest. It was so precious I did not know how to wear it yet. Putting it on felt like risking something I was not ready to scuff or lose. I kept that part to myself.
Xu watched me for another second, then gave a short hum of acknowledgment.
“Hmm.”
She did not push further. She simply got up and went to wash her face, leaving me standing there with the weight of the unsaid thing still in my palm.
Later I found myself in the living room again.
I stood in front of my mother’s photograph the way I sometimes did when the apartment felt too quiet. I spoke under my breath, the words meant only for the frame and the silence around it.
“I am doing all right,” I told her. “Training is fine. The team is fine. Xu started a part-time job. She comes home late but she still makes sure there is food. She remembered my birthday. She bought me something. I do not know what to do with how that feels yet.”
I kept talking in the same low voice, updating an absence that never answered back. I did not hear footsteps behind me. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Cool fingers brushed the back of my neck.
I stiffened as the chain slid into place. The crescent pendant settled against my skin, light and definite. Xu’s hands moved with quiet certainty, fastening the clasp before I could turn around.
I looked over my shoulder, startled.
She was standing close. Without giving me time to step away she reached up, took my chin between her fingers, and tilted my face toward hers. Her expression was calm, almost thoughtful, but there was a glint in her eyes that made my stomach drop.
“Do you want to go anywhere today, Little Wen?”
The words landed like a direct hit.
Heat rushed up my neck and into my face so fast it was almost dizzying. Little Wen. The exact tone I had used last night when I kissed her forehead and called her little Linling. She had been awake. She had heard everything. She had simply chosen to stay still and let me finish.
I opened my mouth and closed it again. No useful sentence formed at first. Xu held my chin a moment longer, clearly enjoying the color that had taken over my face, then let go and stepped back as if nothing unusual had happened.
“The pendant looks better on you than in the box,” she said. “Try not to take it off again.”
She started to walk toward the kitchen. The question she had asked still hung in the air between us, waiting.
“The amusement park,” I said.
Xu stopped and looked back at me.
“I want to go to the amusement park,” I repeated, a little more steadily this time. “If you are free.”
For a second she only studied me, as if checking whether I was serious. Then the corner of her mouth lifted in a small, almost reluctant smile.
“All right,” she said. “Amusement park it is. But if you throw up on a ride I am not holding your hair.”
“I will not throw up.”
“You used to.”
“I was ten.”
“And yet the memory remains.”
She continued into the kitchen, already sounding like she was planning the rest of the day around my answer. I stood in front of my mother’s photograph a moment longer, the pendant warm against my skin and the words “Little Wen” still echoing in my head.
There was no chance I was taking it off now.
And apparently I was going to an amusement park with the same person who had just turned my own bedtime whisper against me without mercy.