Chapter Two: Thirteen at Midnight

Zhixia had made the same dessert for childhood birthdays, always complaining that pomegranates were too troublesome. She would use half a seed and eat the rest. Two tiny characters had been carved into the jelly: Elder Sister. Zhiwei forgot to breathe. “That's her handwriting.” “Taste it,” Wen Qi said. “Then you will know where she went.” “Don't touch it,” Gu said at the same instant. The seed released a red drop. Zhiwei smelled the kitchen where they had grown up: a gas burner clicking, summer watermelon, Zhixia calling her sister from across the table. The scent burst through three years of carefully maintained control. She reached toward it.