The morning was chilly enough to cause Lu Han’s breath to fog. The rain yesterday had cleared the air so well that the trees seemed even more colourful, the sky even bluer and the sun even brighter. They were in the height of autumn, with a brief burst of Indian summer in the forecast for tomorrow. He looked forward to those few warmer days.

But this morning he had a mission. By nine-thirty, he was hammering on the door of Yixing’s room at the hotel. A few minutes passed, then the door opened and Yixing looked out at him with sleep-puffed eyes.

                “Come in,” he said. “Except you’ll have to excuse my state of dress. I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.”

                Lu Han stepped into the warmth and glanced around the room. And Lu Han could say that Yixing was evidently a neat person. His few possessions appeared to be stowed away.

                On the other hand, Yixing himself was something else. Maybe he slept in the buff, but he’d pulled on nothing but a pair of jeans to answer the door, and he hadn’t even bothered to snap them.

                Lu Han’s thoughts raced down an alley he didn’t want to enter, but it proved impossible for him to ignore that fact that he had a broad, smoothly muscled chest, arms that said he could lift more than a laptop, and man, the abs.

                The man was beefcake, for crying out loud. He could have posed for one of those calendars.

                But then Yixing turned swiftly away, grabbing a sweatshirt on the foot of the bed, and Lu Han saw his back. His awareness of his musculature vanished as he saw the patchwork of scars. They looked like surgical scars, but he could only imagine the injuries they represented.

                Almost as if the strength had been from him, Lu sank into the one chair beside the window.

                Sweatshirt on, Yixing dropped onto the end of the bed, facing him. “So,” he said. “Can I buy you a coffee or breakfast? I could use a cinnamon roll myself.”

                “I want to talk.”

                He nodded. “I figured that out. You wouldn’t be here otherwise. But wouldn’t it be better to talk somewhere public?”

                “For you or for me?”

                “For both of us, maybe.”

                Thinking about what he had learned during his internet search, Lu could understand that answer. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll meet you across the way.”

                “Actually, I was thinking about the café.”

                “All right, I’ll drive you there. My car’s right out front.”

                Outside, Lu stopped to pull in a lungful of cold fresh air. How could he have forgotten how attractive a man could be or how good one could smell?

                Shaking his head, he climbed into his car, switched on the ignition and turned up the heat. Zhang Yixing now posed a new kind of problem, one Lu felt less able to deal with than a stalker. He absolutely could not afford to feel attracted to him.

                Five minutes later, Yixing emerged from his room, dressed for the weather now and quite a bit less distracting. He climbed into the passenger seat of his little four-wheel BMW and smiled. “Thanks for the ride,” he said, revealing that beautiful dimple of him. “I honestly don’t feel like walking this morning.”

                Lu managed a smile in return. “Too cold,” he said. “In another few weeks I won’t even notice it, but this change was too sudden and too big. I’m freezing.”

                “I came from near L.A. Nice climate. Moderate, most of the time.”

                “That’s what I hear. But I think I’d miss the seasons.”

                “I hear that all the time from people when they move to my area. The funny thing is, after a year or so they don’t seem inclined to move away.”

                Lu gave a little laugh and nodded. “From what I’ve heard, it can be pretty seductive.”

                “It can be.”

                “I don’t know if I could handle the earthquakes.”

                Yixing cocked his head. “That’s another thing I hear a lot about. But if you really give it some thought, you realise that no place is totally safe from Mother Nature’s wrath.”

                He nodded slowly as he pulled into a diagonal parking place in front of Momo’s. “You’re probably right about that.”

At this hour of the morning on a weekday, Momo’s café was empty of all but a couple of tables occupied by somewhat younger women- probably who’d come to town to the weekly shopping. Glances came their direction from everyone, but conversations barely stopped. Just enough noise and activity to make quiet conversation possible.

                After the chill outside, Lu Han chose a table by the window where a bright sunbeam made its way inside. It was getting close to that time of year when, because it was too cold to stay along outside, he’d stand at a window just to feel the sun on his face.

                Yixing limped behind him and lowered himself gingerly into the chair.

                “You really hurt,” he remarked.

                “It’s worst when I first get up. Once I move around a bit, it eases.”

                The inevitable cups of coffee arrived, slammed down by Kyungsoo himself, who regarded Yixing with evident suspicion. “Know what you want?” he asked in his graceless way.

                “Cinnamon roll, please,” Yixing said.

                “They’re big,” Kyungsoo warned. “Course, you look like you could use some fattening up.” Then he turned to Lu Han. “Don’t see much of you around here.”

                “Actually,” he said carefully, “I just like to cook at home.”

                Kyungsoo sniffed. “Well, you’re here now, so what’ll it be?”

                “I already had breakfast, so iced Americano will be fine.”

                “Rude not to eat when you’re with somebody who’s trying to enjoy his breakfast. I’ll get you a roll, too. I figure that one-“ he pointed at Yixing “-will probably want whatever you don’t.”

                As Kyungsoo stomped away, Yixing cocked a brow at Lu Han. “You get a roll, too, even if you don’t want one?”

                Lu Han grinned. “He’s an institution in this town. Kyungsoo’s way or don’t set foot in here.”

                “I get that sense.”

                An awkward silence fell. Understandable, Lu Han thought. He didn’t really know how to address what he’d learned about him, or where it was safe to start, or even how to frame an appropriate apology. He felt as if anything he said might break eggshells.

                And, of course, Yixing wouldn’t want to talk about some of it all.

                But at least the huge, hot, fresh cinnamon rolls occupied plates in front of them, along with butter for those who needed additional calories, and their coffee cups had been topped off. Impossible to avoid talking any longer.

                It was Yixing, however, who broke the silence. “I doubt,” he said, “that you found out anything about me that I don’t already know. I imagine you have questions.”

                “Not questions, really,” he said, trying not to squirm. “More like a feeling I owe you an apology.”

                “You don’t owe me one at all. I scared you.”

                “I leaped to conclusions.”

                “Maybe not such bad ones. Especially given that I’m a total stranger.”

                Lu cocked an eyebrow at him and caught again that haunted, hunted look, but this time he knew where it came from. “I’m sorry about your family.”

                He nodded, his lips compressing.

                “But we don’t have to talk about that,” Lu said hastily. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about, anyway. I read the newspaper stories. It was awful. I can’t imagine surviving a plane crash that took your husband and daughter.”

                Again he nodded, his face twisting a bit. “Some things you just have to live with.”

                Words deserted Lu, leaving him with no other option than to return his nod and look down at the roll he now wanted even less than Kyungsoo had slapped it down in front of him.

                After a minute or so Yixing sighed. He picked up his fork, cut off a bite-size piece and popped the sweetness into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, then said, “There are still good things in life. And this must be one of the best cinnamon rolls I’ve ever eaten.”

                “Kyungsoo is without compare in the kitchen.”

                “So it would seem.”

                Back to inconsequentials. Lu was happy to keep the conversation on safe ground. “You wrote a lot of papers.”

                Yixing almost smiled. “I think I was a little manic. I loved my work, and sharing the things I learned was one of the best parts. Working the ideas through in my head enough to actually express them cogently in papers.”

                “Well, I couldn’t understand a thing you said, but I was impressed by the number of your publications.”

                “A natural outflow of my work. You probably also noticed some of them weren’t exactly greeted as mainstream.”

                “I gather you were pushing frontiers. Maybe some of the rest of the world just needs to catch up.”

                “That’s a kind way of putting it.”

                “It’s the best I can do.” Lu gave a self-deprecating smile. “I’m an accountant, after all. In my world anomalies usually result from mistakes.”

                “I like numbers. They don’t lie.”

                That gave Lu a little start, harking back as it seemed to his recent discovery at work. When numbers didn’t add up, something was definitely wrong. It might be his mistake, or it might be that there were real problems with the plant’s inventory, but either way, numbers didn’t lie. “