Beijing was no longer the glorious city it had been many years before; in fact, the whole of China was nothing more than a wasteland. Citizens couldn’t escape their once-loved city and it even if they could, there was nowhere for them to hide. They were shunned from the rest of the world; there was no one who would take in fugitives.

If only they hadn’t started the war. Well, they didn’t start it. A man, who had taken over China and ruled with an iron fist had. But he was dead; after the fall of their country, he was assassinated. The citizens had no one to blame for their destruction, until his son stepped up to rule. Wu Fan, the cold-hearted duplicate of his father. He held himself up in the palace, never to be seen after his father’s death. So many had planned to kill him, too, but it was more difficult considering his hermetic, isolated lifestyle. Only a select few were let in or out of the palace and after a couple years of hard planning, a small group of revolutionists found a gap to get in.

“Why does it have to be me?” Zi Tao asked as he slipped on a pair of tattered boots. He pulled the strings tight and tied them slowly, never taking his eyes off of them. He was afraid to look up at his mates. They had voted him out and he felt betrayed.

Yixing sighed, “Zi Tao, someone has to go in there. You’re the least likely to get caught,” he hooked an arm around Lu Han’s neck and pulled him close, squeezing his face with his other hand, “Look at this face. It turns the brightest red when he even considers lying; we can’t send him in.”

Lu Han smacked Yixing’s hand away and bent down next to Zi Tao, “We all decided on this plan, Zi Tao, even you thought it was a good idea,” he elbowed him in the side. Zi Tao glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, “This is the only way it will work. You’re smart, sneaky, and you can survive in the palace. All you have to do is get Wu Fan to trust you and then-”

“I couldn’t kill him.”

“But... think of everything his family has done to us,” Yixing whispered. He stared at him sadly; Zi Tao was too soft sometimes.

Zi Tao frowned and looked up at Yixing. “I know, but…” He hated Wu Fan, his father, and everything their family stood for. Just thinking about the two of them made his blood boil, but the idea of murdering someone, anyone, was just too hard for him to imagine. It was a stain he didn’t want on his hands. But it was also something he didn’t want either of his friends scarred with, either.

“Will you do it?” Lu Han asked.

Zi Tao sighed. “Do you think things will be better if he’s killed?”

Lu Han nodded, “Of course. They’ll be the last of the line. The Commander would step up; he’s one of us. He’s the only one we can trust.”

“I just…” Zi Tao trailed off. His dark, tired eyes stared across the room. “I don’t know if I can pull this mission off. What if I get caught?” The other two men were silent; he glanced at them, but their eyes were everywhere but in his direction.

“That’s something you can’t dwell on,” Lu Han sighed. He patted him hard on the back, “You would never be caught.”

Zi Tao stood and straightened his jacket before starting for the door of their apartment. “Give me a bit to think about it.”

Yixing caught him by the elbow and stared him straight in the eyes, “Wu Fan is the spawn of Satan, Zi Tao and he must be sent back to Hell.”

“Huang Zi Tao?”

Zi Tao jumped up when his name was called. He walked past the dozens of other men his age, who were sitting silently in the dull waiting room. They all glanced up as he passed; he was the only one dressed for the interview. He’d scrounged up just enough money for a nice, black suit and tie and a pair of shiny dress shoes. He definitely stood out against the crowd of raggedy interviewees around him.

He stopped in front of the officer that called his name, “Huang Zi Tao,” he said, holding his head high.

“This way, please,” the officer said, directing him into a small office. There was a small table, with a chair on either side. The officer pulled out the chair farthest from the door, “Wait here,” he said.

Zi Tao nodded, then bowed and took the seat. He smoothed his hair and took a deep breath. He couldn’t be nervous, even though the pressure was high. Hundreds of people applied for positions within the government, but very few were ever called for interviews. He was lucky to have made it this far.

Suddenly, the door opened and an official stepped in; he was middle-aged and well-dressed. As he started to take his seat, Zi Tao jumped up to bow, but before he could, the man’s hand flew up, “Sit,” he said. Zi Tao frowned and took his seat again, reluctantly. The official sat his briefcase on the table and opened it, pulling out a thick folder. He flipped through it and rattled off simple questions every few moments. “Date of birth?”

“Second of May, 1993.”

“It says here you scored an IQ of 142?” He stared at him over his glasses.

Zi Tao nodded.

“Do you know what our Wu Fan scored?” Zi Tao shook his head. “140. He doesn’t really like people smarter than him…” he frowned, “So, if you’re hired, just say it was a 138.”

“Understood.”

The official scribbled over the last pages of the file, and continued questioning him. The longer the interview went on, the more nervous Zi Tao became, but he couldn’t show it. He kept his hands folded in his lap, kept his back straight, and tried his hardest not to wince when the official stared at him.

“I think that’s all,” he said finally. Zi Tao glanced at the clock; it had taken over an hour, “We’ll give you a call if we choose you for the position.”

Zi Tao stood and bowed, but the official turned and walked out quickly, barely noticing. He sighed and closed his eyes. He followed out of the small office slowly, walking past the security officers. The men waiting in the lobby stared as he made his way out the front door.

He walked down the middle of the street , along the faded lines. No one drove anymore; where could anyone find the money to travel, since fuel prices had skyrocketed after the war ended? Only the very rich could afford to drive, and there were only a couple handfuls of them left. They say now that the city one lives in is their prison and coffin; there was no escape.

Zi Tao stuffed his hands in his pockets and kicked an empty soda can; it bumped and rolled noisily to the curb and spun for a moment. He stared at it; his insides were as uneasy as the can’s movement. Every part of him hoped they wouldn’t call, and he would be able to abort the mission. If they  picked someone else, the others couldn’t be angry with him.

“Please,” he whispered, looking up to the grey, cloudy sky, “give this job to someone who needs it.”

A few days passed, and Zi Tao began to feel at ease- they really weren’t going to call. He, Yixing, and Lu Han had spent the time waiting, on edge, for the phone to ring. Every time it did, they all would jump and run for it, crowding around whoever got to it first, ears pressed together trying to hear.

The phone rang one more time, and Lu Han was the lucky winner of the receiver. “Hello?” He said too-loudly, “Yes, this is the right number, one moment,” he gaped and handed the phone to Zi Tao; he held it loosely in his hand and stared at Lu Han with a shocked and slightly terrified expression on his face.

Lu Han and Yixing started waving their hands and arms at him and slowly, he raised the receiver to his ear. “Zi Tao,” he said hoarsely. He cleared his throat, “Yes, I can be there in the morning,” he said slowly, “Thank you very much,” he tried to sound excited, but failed. He hung the phone up and frowned; the other two crowded him.

“Who was it?” Yixing asked.

Zi Tao shook his head, “I got the job.”

Yixing and Lu Han screamed and bounced, pulling him into a huge hug as they shouted, but Zi Tao stood motionless as they celebrated. He pulled away and they stared at him, “I have to be there early in the morning so… I’m just going to go to bed early.” They nodded and he retreated to his small bedroom.

He shut the door behind him and curled up on his hard mattress. He pulled his blanket around him and closed his eyes; his stomach was bubbling and with every passing moment, a headache grew stronger behind his eyes. He rubbed his face with his hands and tried not to worry. It will be okay, he told himself, you won’t get caught.

But he was sure he would. And they would kill him.

He stepped into the palace and stared at everything in awe; he’d never seen anything so spectacular in his life, even during the prosperous time before the war. He couldn’t believe that he would be staying here. At first, he was angry to be in the same house as Wu Fan, but after seeing everything, he felt a little star-struck. It would never be his home, but he could stay here. His thought was confirmed as a maid rolled by with a tray of food. The dishes were covered with silver, domed lids, but the smell of the cooked meats rolled out casually.

His stomach growled loudly; the guard that brought him in turned to stare. Zi Tao chuckled nervously and placed a hand on his stomach, “I was in too much of a hurry for breakfast,” he said. In reality, he’d spent the last of his money on the suit he was wearing, the same as the day of the interview, and didn’t have the money for food. He’d skipped many meals, it was nothing new.

“This way,” the guard said, leading him up the grand staircase. The marble echoed loudly under his dress shoes, making him feel very aware of himself. He glanced around, but the maids and guards flitting about didn’t notice him.

He was led down a long hallway to a door at the very end. The guard knocked and the door was pulled open- by Wu Fan himself.

Zi Tao looked up at the dictator and held his breath; he couldn’t be afraid. He had to act natural, but his feet seemed glued to the floor. The guard prodded him in the arm, but he didn’t move. Wu Fan smirked and held the door open wider, leaning against the frame, “Is this the new guy?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard bowed.

How could Zi Tao be his right-hand man, if the very sight of him made him freeze? Was it because he was afraid to kill him, or because since he could now put the face to the name, he didn’t think he could? Was it because of who he was- the supposedly cold-hearted reincarnation of his father or the way he smiled at him when he couldn’t recite his name upon question?

“I… I’m Huang… Tao. Zi Tao!” Zi Tao bowed deeply. He glanced up at the leader, who smiled at him brightly.

“You can go,” he said to the guard. He bowed and left, then Wu Fan ushered him into the large library.

Zi Tao turned in a big circle, staring at all the books as he followed Wu Fan to a set of armchairs sitting the very center of the room. Wu Fan took a seat and crossed his leg over his knee. He picked up a steaming cup of tea and held it to his lips, but paused before taking a sip. He watched Zi Tao; it was obvious how unnerved he was. He stood next the other chair, his long fingers trailing over the fabric, but never moved to sit.

“You might get used to this room,” Wu Fan said, “You’ll be with me from dawn until sunset every day, and trust me when I say that I spend most of my time here.” He sipped at his tea and sat the cup back down. He looked up to see Zi Tao staring at him, but when their eyes caught, he averted his gaze quickly. “Sit down,” he said a little more sternly.

Zi Tao did what he was told, and although the chair was more than comfortable, he couldn’t relax. This was a tragedy; he was going to be found out. He let his eyes slide to Wu Fan; he was settled back in his chair, reading out of a small, hardcover book. As he read, his face was blank, until the words made him smile or chuckle. His face mimicked what he was reading; his eyes grew wide at a surprising turn and he would frown and tut at something he disliked.  He was so interested in whatever he was reading, he didn’t notice as Zi Tao reached over and poured himself a cup of tea.

For the next few hours, Wu Fan refused to answer every call at his door, and forbade Zi Tao from answering, as well. Eventually, the servants stopped dropping by and they were left in peace. The only noise either of them made was the tinkling of china or the turning of a page. Wu Fan seemed completely content with his book; even Zi Tao relaxed while watching him.