Chapter Three: A Living Person's Ticket

“Why haven't your clans destroyed this place?” “A century ago, we signed a truce. The ballroom takes a few names each year and leaves the city closed to it.” “So Shen Yan is merely an acceptable few?” His grip tightened. “I inherited the crime. I did not consent to it.” The dancers parted. Shen Yan stood at the far end of the hall in the black shirt he had vanished in. The emptiness in his eyes broke when he saw her. Lin Wu ran to him. A transparent wall rose between them. “Lin Wu?” Shen Yan said through the glass, as though unsure whom the name belonged to. She pressed her palm to the barrier. “What's the first beat?” After a pause, his hand met hers. Four counts in. Four out. “Breath,” he said. Her eyes burned. “I'm taking you home.”