Chapter 1

The plane began to tilt to the right, and Jongdae gazed idly out of the window at the cityscape of Beijing. It was a maze of skyscrapers, built together too close, making the city seem suffocating and crowded. Which wasn’t exactly a lie either — Beijing was extremely overpopulated, and the air itself could fall into the category of suffocating. It didn’t look too smoggy at the moment, which was always a plus, though the weather tended to shift without warning. Apart from that, though, the streets were always busy, bustling with people who were in too much of a rush to get to their ever-shifting destination.  

He flipped through the manila folder again. The target left the building at almost exactly three in the afternoon each day, which meant Jongdae had two hours to navigate through and find the place. He scanned the files another time, hopefully committing everything to memory — address, time, face, transportation route — before the passenger beside him fidgeted and nearly knocked over his cup of water on one of the foldable tables in front of them. He slid the papers back into the folder and then into his backpack.

Around twenty-five minutes later, everyone unloaded from the plane and he’d hailed a taxi and was heading off towards the written destination listed on his files.

An hour left.

He checked his watch, then looked up at the twenty-six story building that loomed in front of him. 2:08. Another fifty-two minutes.

He gave it a couple of seconds’ of thought and then went on a detour to get candied fruit from the street vendor close by.

***

Jongdae absolutely hated Beijing.

Not only was the air quality terrible but it was painfully crowded even when it wasn’t rush hour. It was normally the kind of place where he didn’t dare take public transport — even with a coat and gloves on, he was scared he’d accidentally end up brushing someone or making any sort of skin-to-skin contact. The last time he’d been in Beijing had ended without any tragedies, but that didn’t act as much of a reassurance.

He also wasn’t quite confident enough in his Chinese skills, but he decided that that could be left out. It was improbable that he’d strike up a conversation with a random stranger on the streets (the last time that had happened was twelve years ago).

Jongdae checked his watch again and groaned. It was nearing four in the afternoon, which meant it was rush hour, and the person he was following just had to take the subway. Beijing’s subway was absolutely horrifying around that time.

He pocketed his gloved hands, pulling his cap lower, and then continued after the man holding the briefcase.

Someone bumped into his arm, snapping angry Chinese, too fast for him to understand. He drew back, a bit paranoid that someone would end up touching him before hurrying after the man again. It was hard to keep up in the crowd and even more difficult not to lose him. A woman was yelling into her phone while pulling a child along with her who was crying. Jongdae caught something around the lines of wanting candied fruit, though the kid was soon tugged through the crowd and disappearing with his mother.

He still hadn’t quite decided how he was supposed to meet the target. He’d been given vague instructions — he was an employee at a large clothing company, family of three, and often visited Korea. He left work at exactly three o’clock every day and went there at eight am sharp. His home address was also written down on his file, though Jongdae would’ve preferred getting the job done somewhere else. There was no point in getting his wife and kids involved in it also.

The man squeezed through the crowd and Jongdae followed suit, wincing at the proximity of people. Beijing, he complained to himself again. I hate Beijing. Why did I have to come here again, of all places?

He palmed the train ticket in his pocket, then checked his watch again. 4:04. It had taken him them an hour and four minutes to bus three stops to the train station and make their way down into the tracks. Jongdae hoped that the stop the man got off at wouldn’t be as crowded.

As expected, he barely managed to squeeze himself onto the train. He ended up sandwiched between a lady with blood red lipstick and the train doors, and when it halted at the next stop, he had to get off and let the flow of people go before getting on again. The man with the briefcase had managed to find himself a seat a couple meters away from Jongdae and he wanted to sit down too.

Xiyuan station. That was the one he had to go to.

Another twenty minutes passed before the automated female voice finally announced the stop. Jongdae struggled to squeeze through to the doors, all the while pulling his hat down out of habit. He hoped he didn’t look too shady.

The man didn’t appear to notice he was being followed, though Jongdae supposed it wasn’t easy to tell with the amount of people leaving the subway with him. They had to transfer lines to one that was located above ground.

To his utmost relief, the next station wasn’t nearly as crowded. In fact, when they descended underground again, there was actually space to walk, to his surprise.