Weiyi didn’t like Seoul.  It was big, and it was noisy, and it was just as confusing as Shanghai, except it was all in a completely different language and she didn’t understand a thing, which just made everything worse.  She wasn’t even sure if she preferred the place at night or by day, and she’d been there for at least a week now.  The noise continued just the same at night, as did the smells and the bustle, even if there were fewer people on the streets, but she’d already had several men try to snatch her and shove her into clubs or who knew where else.  One of them had even asked her in Chinese if she had a passport.  She’d got as far as giving him a blank look and asking where she was before he’d tried to lock her into his car, evidently delighted by her naivety.  Figuring she’d stumbled into a disreputable part of town, Weiyi had tried to distance herself from it, but with no food, no money, unable to speak the language and no extra clothes or shelter, she found herself unable to go very far.  All she had was the sixty-four gigabyte memory stick that Liyin had told her she couldn’t lose.  That and her fear of Sangchu.

She had known Sangchu wasn’t from China, but China clearly wasn’t the only place he had influence.  The first few nights in the seediest areas of the city had been free of his shadow, but after that, his name was everywhere, whispering past the cigarettes of the teenagers smoking in a doorway down the street, sharp in the air of a group of thugs chasing after her who clearly recognised her (Weiyi had hidden in a skip on a building site), and even in the mouths of the two patrolling policemen that Weiyi had very nearly turned herself into.  “Sangchu” was the only part of their conversation that Weiyi had understood, but she figured from that that they would probably recognise her if they knew who Sangchu was, and considering most of the police for several Chinese provinces surrounding Shanghai were more or less in Sangchu’s pay, it seemed fair to assume that here, where Sangchu clearly had influence, they might well be too.  And after being knocked on the shoulder by a busy lady when she asked her if she spoke Chinese in order to try to get help, Weiyi decided that it wasn’t worth trying to involve anybody else – especially with the risk – and that she ought just to get on with it herself.

Except she didn’t know what to do.  She’d betrayed a powerful man who’d held her in virtual slavery since she was four, had evidence of numerous of his crimes, and lost both Liyin and Liyin’s contact who’d asked Weiyi to get the evidence in the first place when Sangchu had rumbled their escape plans by turning up at the shipyard.  There had been an enormous gun battle before Weiyi had even had the opportunity to meet Liyin’s friend, and Liyin had got both of them out of the way by leading Weiyi onto a boat.  Though Weiyi had managed to hide behind some crates, Liyin had been killed by a stray bullet and fallen into the water, and  the boat’s captain, anxious to get away before any of his cargo was damaged, had left the harbour at full speed.  Weiyi had seen the place blow up behind her, a massive fireball against the night sky, and then realised that she was truly on her own.

The sun was up, and the rush hour was underway when Weiyi hunkered down in a doorway that looked deserted, trying to ignore her grumbling stomach.  She’d gone several days without eating before, but the stress of everything being so terrifyingly incomprehensible, and the tiredness and the lack of proper shelter made everything feel a hundred times worse.  Her vision and her hearing seemed weird.  She couldn’t concentrate.  And she needed water, but she didn’t know if she had the strength to get up.

At some point, she passed out.

Apart from attempting to treat his injuries, Minseok thought that it might be a good idea to warn Luhan that Yixing was coming so that there was some hope of things going smoothly.  The problem was, he wasn’t sure what Yixing was planning, and he knew that Luhan wasn’t going to react well to a policeman in the house.  Particularly when that was the policeman who’d orchestrated the palaver surrounding Luhan’s downfall.

Luhan was sound asleep when Minseok slipped into the living room, curled up on his side on the sofa with a small grimace of pain.  Rather than the duvet, one of his hands rested on his side, and Minseok saw that Jaera had been right: there was blood on Luhan’s clothing.  Some of it had dried, but some of it was still liquid, which meant a few of the injuries had probably reopened.

After some contemplation, Minseok tried calling his name, but Luhan gave no response.  Minseok took a step closer and called again.  Still nothing.  Tentatively, he reached out and prodded Luhan’s shoulder.

His fingers were instantly trapped in a vice-like grip and Luhan glared up at him.  His gaze softened a little when he realised who it was, and he reluctantly let go of Minseok’s fingers.

“What?” he demanded grumpily.

“You need to get up,” Minseok told him.  “I’ve got a first aid kit here so we can clean you up, and I can lend you some clothes.”  He chewed on the inside of his cheek, wondering how best to phrase the next part.  “And my boss is coming over.”

Luhan’s eyes widened in betrayal and fear.  “Why?”  His voice cracked.  “You said you guaranteed me a safe night and that you’d pretend I was never here!”

Minseok held up his hands.  “This wasn’t my decision.  Somebody you hitchhiked a lift from yesterday reported you this morning and Yixing rang me to warn me that you were in the area.”

Luhan sat up.  Now that he was aware the man was injured, Minseok was able to spot the tension in his body as he tried to hide the pain.  “Where can I hide?” he demanded.

“Yixing knows you’re here.  He guessed.”

Right on cue, the doorbell rang.  Sensing it was far too early to expect Semi to get out of bed to answer it, Minseok tossed the first aid kit to Luhan and left the room.  Jaehwan was already at the door, greeting the chief of police with a polite bow and a less polite yawn, and then they all nearly got flattened by a rampaging two-year-old when Jaera poked her nose out into the corridor and saw who had arrived.

“Ee-chin!  Ee-chin!” she cried, arms spread as she stumbled towards him.  Laughing, Yixing swept her up and spun her around in a circle before settling her on his hip and chucking her affectionately under the chin.

“Hello, monster.”

“Wo.  Ai.  Ni!” she responded glibly, patting his cheeks with her hands.  Jaehwan rolled his eyes as he shut the door and then sleepily wandered back in the direction of his bedroom.

“I love me too,” Yixing said.  “And you’ve grown.”

“I biggest!”  Jaera beamed and spread her arms.  “I biggest Rara ever!”

Yixing gave Minseok an amused glance before turning his attention back to the little girl as he came further down the hallway.  “No, I biggest,” he argued.

“Big Chin-chin, not Rara,” Jaera countered.

Yixing was undeterred.  “Chin-chin bigger Rara in disguise.”

Jaera pulled his hair.  “No.  Chin-chin hair short.  Rara hair not short.”

Yixing tugged one of her pigtails playfully.

“Don’t encourage her,” Minseok advised, resulting in an enormous twin pout from the pair of them.

“Spoilsport,” Yixing complained, sticking his tongue out and gently setting Jaera down on the ground.  For a moment or two, she looked like she was going to burst int