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Jia held into Ru's arm tightly, fear coursing through her as they made their way down the dark alley. Something wasn't right. It didn't let her rest. Every so often she'd throw a glance back, seeking some figure that would throw a punch at them.
The wind was rough. The air was stiff. Ru felt all those things and made sure to mutter them to her. But he wasn't bothered. Instead, he walked so fast it seemed as if he was running on clouds. She doesn't get to see him as happy so often. See the little reddened cheeks forming circles underneath his small glasses.
They were going to leave by the end of the week. Home. At last. The sweet scented fields of the Shu Han and the flying petals of their blossoms. She was going to see it all over again. See the places where fairy tales were made. Hear the sweet note of poetry, spoken in her native language. Not the hoarse laughter of drunks as they share another pint of lager. No. She was going to be in her sweet home, surrounded by her grandparents and a warm fireplace.
They were on their way home. Well, it couldn't really be called a home. A room they shared with ten other tourists. The owner attempted to throw them out seven times, but each time Ru found a way to pay him for one more month.
It smelt as vile as the rest, dusty and filled with bedbugs. She was happy she didn't get sick from the stiffness of the air. They had one window and it was closed at all times during the colder weather. But she got used to not breathing. Got quite good at it.
"Papa, is this the right way?" she whispered in Shu as a group of men began to walk their way.
"You're right. We took the wrong turn," he muttered, yanking her to the side.
His little exhausted feet worked their way into a quick pace. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong when Ru Yul-Jingyi ran instead of walked.
