I slip into the apartment, knocking our little secret rhythm on the door before sliding the key in. The second I'm inside, I shut the door fast—like fast, like "hide the evidence before the cops come" fast.
And there he is.
Jiang stands in the middle of the living room, his wristband projecting a massive hologram that's spinning above him like some floating sci-fi planetarium. His face is all serious and laser-focused… which means he probably paused his C-drama mid-episode, poor thing.
I lift my hands and sign, Any bugs? Anyone spying?
His antennae perk and twitch like little satellite dishes locking onto a signal.
He answers out loud, calm as ever, "No. It's just us in this room alone."
I blink. Sir. That was the most horror-movie line delivery ever. Please do better.
I sigh. "Uh… you could've phrased that better, but whatever. Moving on."
I sit up and stare at him like he just told me to kick a puppy.
