The wine glass paused beside her lips. Her grip tightened around it, but Zhe Huo maintained a pretense of calm, and took a tiny sip. “Who?” she whispered. “Where?”
Still wearing that enchanting smile of his, Tao Feiyan requested another glass from the receptionist behind the counter. With a graceful tilt of his finely sculpted jaw, followed by a faint gulping motion, he downed the entire glass in one go. “Such good wine,” he remarked cheerily.
He plopped down a few more coins upon the counter, then turned to go. As he passed close beside Zhe Huo, he whispered, “Follow me.”
There was nothing for it but to set her glass of wine down again, and follow him upstairs.
Feiyan stepped into an alcove. The table within was laden with fine wines and appetizing delicacies. Zhe Huo stared. “Mr. Tao, didn’t we just eat?”
But Feiyan didn’t so much as glance at the food on the table. “Shut the door,” he said, ignoring her question.
Zhe Huo frowned, but did as instructed. Turning back around, she found Feiyan opening the southeast window. With his back to her, he laughed, “To be precise, they’re following you, not me.”
Hearing this only agitated her further. She stepped over to have a look out the window. People were moving up and down the street below. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She continued to scan around. “Where are they? I don’t see anything.”
“That wonton stall opposite… do you see that person in black?”
Zhe Huo looked in the direction Feiyan indicated. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the man in black, sitting directly across the street from their inn. He was nursing a cup of tea in his hands, but now and again he would look over at the inn.
“Doesn’t look like your average joe, hence why I noted his presence.”
Zhe Huo sucked in a corner of her lip, her eyes sharpening with concentration. “Going by my, uh, ‘long years’ of demon-hunting experience, there’s nothing demonic about this guy—no shortage of hostility, though.”
Feiyan shut the window, and then turned to her. “He’s an agent of the underworld.”
She blinked, having just been about to suggest the same thing. Instead, she asked, “What’s he up to? Is it an ambush?”
“Looks that way.” Laughing lightly, Feiyan reclined upon a couch beside the long table, indulging in another drink.
Zhe Huo took a seat opposite, and selected a cake to munch on. “What are they after?” she wondered aloud. “I don’t know him—nor have I ever crossed paths with that sort of people.”
That she was talking about it in this way told Feiyan that she wasn’t particularly worried by the situation. He arched an eyebrow in annoyance. “You’re asking me? How should I know? The only thing I’m certain of is that it’s not me they’re after.”
At this, Zhe Huo opened and shut her mouth several times, put down the piece of cake, brushed her palms together lightly, and fell back to her old habit of working a finger about a corner of her eye. Thinking aloud, she mumbled to herself, “I’ve never picked a fight with anyone from the underworld—and it’s not like they could be here for Qinghan…”
Her voice faltered away, lost in thought. Then, her head snapped back up in alarm. “They can’t be here for Qinghan, right?” she breathed in disbelief.
Feiyan leaned against the table, a couple of slender white fingers braced against the side of his forehead. He batted his luscious eyelashes at her. “I didn’t say anything.”