Some rare desert snow is beginning to fall outside the window to my office. I turn from contemplating the swirling flakes when I hear the ding from my desk. I hurry over and sit down just in time to see Lin’s face pop up on the screen for our last daily call before we head to Vietnam.
“Hey, cutie,” she says.
“Hey, beauty,” I reply. “How are things in Beijing?”
“Same old,” she says, looking around her room. “Are you all ready for your trip?”
“Yeah. We’re heading out tomorrow. I’m going to miss our calls. I won’t have time or privacy for the next couple of weeks. Is everything all set for us to see you in China?”
She smiles and makes a gesture like a cat pawing.
“Yes!” she says excitedly. “Get over here quickly. I want to see you again!”
“Me too! I mean, I want to see you. I see me all the time.”
She laughs, even though it wasn’t very funny. I have a vague feeling that Mom used to do that.
“So what’s the situation with your father?” I ask. “Do I need to worry that he’ll shoot me when we get there?”
“Of course not,” she replies serenely. “Why would he shoot my pen pal?”
“So he doesn’t know? That we’re more than just writing letters practicing your English?”
“Of course not,” she says with her naughty smile. “He would definitely kill you if he knew that. And I do mean kill you, not the hyperbole that he would be angry with you.”
“That protective, huh?”
“Yes. He nearly lost me so many times from the illness that he is very, very protective now.” Her expression turns serious. “Just don’t say anything in front of him that would make him suspect. Don’t say anything that would let Yang Song know either. She is the one that Father would use to kill you.”
I glance at my file on her. Yeah, I could see how she would be the one to pull the trigger.
“Does he kill a lot of people like that?” I ask.
“Well, it hasn’t really been an issue for my suitors. I was too ill for any courtship until recently.”
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I like how the not-quite-normal terms like “suitors” and “courtship” that she uses sound coming from her, like she read them out of a book. Her American accent is so good lately that the odd word choices stand out more and more. Other than those, her English is nearly flawless now.
“But he has killed others?” I ask, curious. “It’s not a dealbreaker. My father did that kind of thing, too.”
She doesn’t seem phased by that.
“He does what he must for his occupation, and for his country,” she answers matter-of-factly. “I don’t judge whether he is a good man for doing that, but he is a powerful one. It is good for me that he is. It is the only way I could have met you.”
“Fair enough.” I smile. “Now, please tell me that somewhere in wherever we’re going to meet up, there are places where you and I can be alone for a few minutes.”
Her sly smile returns and her eyes shine with excitement.
“I believe that we’ll have several opportunities. The conference will be held at the estate of one of my father’s friends. It is right along the river you’ll be traveling on, so your family will have no excuse to say no. We went there once on holiday, years ago. It is very large and has some nice places we could hide for a few minutes if we can distract my father and Yang Song. We will just need to be careful with the security cameras.”
The conference? I have to look back through my logs for a second to remember what she’s talking about. The final condition we had to agree to in order to get permission to do the work we wanted to do in China was to be the keynote speakers at some high-end tech conference that they were hosting. I’d never heard of the event before, so maybe it’s a new thing, or just a really exclusive thing. In any case, it was something that was easy to agree to. We’ll be doing a bunch of tech talks along the way anyway, so what was one more?
“I’m sure I can come up with something, “ I tell her. “I’m pretty resourceful.”
“Of course you are. Why do you think I put up with you? And spend every minute thinking about you?”
My heart skips a beat. I think we’ve got a very good relationship for a long-distance thing, but neither of us has said anything about love yet. I think that was as close as she’s come so far.
“I thought it was my good looks,” I reply, trying to play it cool.
“No, only your resourcefulness. Your cuteness was entirely extra. Gravy? I think there is an idiom with gravy.”
She reaches out of the camera’s view and pulls a book of English phrases into the frame.
“Yeah, there is, but don’t worry about it.” I tell her. “It doesn’t really fit well in this context.”
“Thanks,” she says, putting the book down. “Now, I only have a few minutes left. Quickly, take off your shirt.”
“Yeah, I’ll take mine off once yours is off. You’re not tricking me with that one again.”
“Well,” she laughs, toying with the top button of her blouse, “if you insist…”
She unbuttons it, then reaches down and undoes another. I reach for my own shirt’s collar and start unbuttoning. I get a glimpse of Lin’s cleavage and feel a rush of hormones. Her fingers work another button and another. My shirt is halfway off when I hear an all-to-familiar clacking sound coming through the call.
No!
“Sorry, Yang Song is back,” Lin declares, laughing as she quickly buttons back up. “I’ll see you when you get here.”
The video cuts off abruptly. I wait until my excitement dies down enough to walk without embarrassment, then head back to my dorm room to take a shower.