Nine.

  You were nine years old when you first met Kris, when he was still known as Li Jia Heng. Young, innocent and pure. He was the son of, Wu Heng, one of your father's close business partners for about twelve years now. At the time,  you had no idea that your father was the head of the underground Mafia in Beijing. To you, he was your Daddy, your superman, someone whom you deeply respected and loved. He took you out on ice-cream dates, and bought you everything you've ever wanted. You grew up without the love and nurture of a Mother. Your father had always told you she was a good for nothing who ran away the moment she gave birth to you which in time, turned your sorrows into resentment. Sometimes your emotions conflicted though and you weren't sure whether or not if you had the right to behold such a hostile grudge upon her.    You hated her for being a coward, for running away from your Dad and you, for giving up the role as your Mother and for being a ''. But another side of you was thankful that she didn't give you up for an abortion or else you wouldn't be alive and you wouldn't have the chance to to meet your wonderful Dad who gave you everything you could ever possibly want.    And more importantly, you would've never met Kris.   You could remember the day with such clarity as if it were just yesterday, when you had first met him.    You were in the living room, seated on the hard floral patterned sofa beside your Dad as you told him about your dreams of one day becoming the best show girl in the world. Your Dad laughed, and promised that he would make sure to fullfill your dreams. You knew he was serious when a series of strange, stripe lines suddenly ingrained his broad forehead and his eyes casted a small shadow beneath them. You also knew he meant it in every way possible because whatever you wanted, he gave it to you. He was, afterall, your Daddy. He would never allow you to grow up as a common girl, doing common things. He knew you deserved better and bigger: you deserved glamour. You  He knew you had so many plans for the future, and so many ambitions building up in that smart brain of yours, and that's why he loved you so much. Unfortunately, the conversation came to end when the doorbell rung. The maid had opened the door, and you heard low mumbles and foosteps patting against the smooth, white marble floors. Your sentence trailed off when big, burly men in suits appeared before you. Your lips immediately clamped shut unconsciously. Although your Dad had promised you more than a million times that these men meant no harm, you could never really get over how frightening they looked and how timid they made you feel; they always wore the same stone, cold faces and lacked the capability of emotions.    They bowed their head in respect. "Laoban," they would address him. Your Dad would smirk in response, feeling proud of his title as the Big Boss.    Behind the men was Mr. Li. He was a skinny looking man with deep, grey eyes who had an incredible reputation in Beijing as being one of the best fighters. You didn't know much about the man other than the fact that he was a close business partner of your Dad's. Mr. Li occasionally visited, but on this occasion, it was different. Behind him today, stood a boy with sharp eyes and small lips. Surprised with the unexpected new guest, you sat up in interest.   "This is my son, Li Jia Heng." Mr. Li said, a proud smile lingered on his lips.    You felt your eyes flicker back and forth between him and his Dad. The contrast in their looks were wide, and you had the need to in your breath. For the first time in your life, your heart wavered in your chest at an unusual rate. But at the time, you were far too young to understand what the feeling meant and ignored the strange palpitating of your heart beat.   Even as a young boy, Kris had sharp facial features and piercing myserious cat-like eyes that could penetrate deeply through the soul. His cold facial expression made him look years older than he really was, or perhaps it was just the angle, you weren't sure. However, judging by his height, you were definitely sure he was a few years older than you. He was almost as tall as his Dad. And mind you, Mr. Li was already quite a giant specimen himself. You looked at the young boy with sympathy, and felt the need to protect him though you couldn't fathom why. There was not a trace of humour or happiness in his eyes, and the thought of it made you empathize for the boy. He looked beyond his years, you thought. On another note, Kris's staggering height wasn't the only thing that showed off his maturity, but it was also in the way he presented himself. He was standing straight with his broad shoulders popped out as his hands clasped together in the front. His head was lowered as a sign of respect and also, it looked as if he was waiting to be addressed.    Which was exactly what happened after you made the presumption.    Mr. Li pulled him forward. "Greet Laoban." Being the shrewed quiet boy Kris was, he awkwardly took a step in front of his Dad and bowed curtly. "Laoban." Your father eyed him for no less than a second of disinterest before straightening up, lighting up a cigar.   "How old is he?" Your father asked, taking a long drag from his cigar. His tone was flat, almost emotionless. It always amazed you how fast your father's expression could change when his partners were around.    "Laoban, he is turning 13 very soon. I have him training for at least 7 hours a day and by the end of Spring, he ought to be ready." Mr. Li promised. Your Father inhaled the dry, taste of the tobacco and allowed the smoke to flare out his nostrils. He tapped the cigar lightly on the ashtray. You shifted uncomfortably next to him, your face grimacing from the smell of smoke circulating in the air as you pondered what Mr. Li's words meant.   Remembering  you were still there, your father ushered you and Kris out the room. He had to discuss important business inquiries and children were definitely not permitted in the room during that time.    You were forced to take Kris out with you and keep an eye on him. Without much choice, he followed along in your trail. You didn't realize how much taller he was until you spun around when you heard the door closed and gasped when the boy walked into you. Your face landed right in his broad chest and you blinked rapidly, inhaling his scent in the process. You couldn't help but note how wonderful he smelt. It was a unique floral scent mixed with a tiny hint of cinnamon, a scent in which you will later on grow to love. He quickly backtracked and mumbled an apology. He looked like he was in a fright of terror.    "It's okay." You assured him. "I'm fine. See?" You tried to lighten up the mood by poking yourself in random places on your body.     Kris blinked, fear still evident in his eyes. You smiled, the kindness swimming around your eyes made him confused. He had seen how your father act before, how he talked when he was mad, a simple mistake, a small slip, it was a cry of outrage which resulted in punishment. Yet here you were, the complete opposite of your father. You had that kind of unforgettable smile that made his heart melt.   The two of you stood awkwardly in the hollow hallways. You leaned against one wall, while he leaned against the other. For some reason, the strings of your heart felt like it was being tugged whenever you looked up at him. In your nine year old mind, you remembered thinking in your head, 'gosh, he sure is cute.' But that was only a second before you realized he had that same deep scowl on his face. Your head tilted curiously as you scrutinized him unconsciously. He was wearing a thin grey shirt with dirtied khakis at the time. He looked more like a peasant than a son of Mr. Li's. You tried to break the ice between the two of you and held your hand out. You smiled. "Hello, my name is-"   "I know what your name is." He quickly cut you off. You blinked, surprised by his urgency. Yet, you couldn't help but suddenly feel your body trembling at the sound of his voice. His voice was very low, and you had assumed he had long reached his puberty years. He had the type of voice that belonged on the radio, or in songs. It was soft, yet husky and soulful and it hung in the air long after he had spoken.   The two of you stood in awkward silence for a long time.    This didn't happen on one account,  but several.    You began to see the boy more often, as he came to visit the mansion with his father. Mr. Li would come and discuss plans with your father, while you were left in the hallways, just standing there with Kris. Your eyes looking up and briefly locking for several seconds before the two of you looked away. Silence was a company of you two, but it wasn't the dreadful type of silence. Though the two of you didn't exchange much words to each other, you felt like you've made a friend. A silent friend, but a friend indeed.   ---   It was one hot summer's day in Beijing. Your father had a big meeting in his office. He was in a frenzy that day, and it was partially due to the terrorizing heat. The Sun had soaked up more than half of the water in th