“Then it is true,” Kathleen exclaimed.
“Do the both of you want to yell any louder?”
“No one here understands us, c’est pas grave.” Juliette bounced in her step. “Why haven’t you told us? Where did you meet?”
Rosalind’s expression tightened. “You really should not trust what the whispers say.”
“Rosalind.” Kathleen sounded stern now, as if she just wanted an answer. “Why are you being so secretive about this?”
“Because . . .” Rosalind swept another look around. By then they had almost reached the temple building, trailing far behind Lady Cai, who was climbing the steps up. There was no one around them, no one to overhear their conversation even if they happened to speak French.
“Because?” Kathleen prompted.
And all in one breath, Rosalind said, “Because he’s associated with the White Flowers, okay?”
Juliette felt a sudden lump in her throat. The smell of incense permeated the entire courtyard, getting stronger with the closer they approached the temple. It clotted in her nostrils, almost choking her airways if she didn’t just exhale—
“That, I didn’t expect,” Kathleen remarked evenly. “Here I was thinking it was politics, and you gave me blood feud instead.” Meaningfully, Kathleen caught Juliette’s eye. Rosalind didn’t know about Juliette’s past with Roma . . . but Kathleen had some idea, even if it was not the full picture.
“It’s not ideal, Rosalind,” Juliette finally choked out. Speaking from personal experience. From very, very personal experience. “If my parents find out—”
“Which is exactly why they won’t.” Rosalind lifted the edge of her qipao, starting up the steps. Kathleen made to follow, but Juliette’s skirts swished around freely at the knees. “We were first introduced in a bar on neutral territory, and I only ever see him in places that switch between Scarlet and White Flower just about every second day. Give it some more time and I’ll have convinced him away from the White Flowers. No one has to know.”
Juliette tried to shake off her terror. She nudged her cousin, hoping that a faked brightness would inject real energy into her outlook. “No one has to know,” she echoed. “We’ll help you—right, Kathleen?”
Kathleen, on the other hand, was not afraid of grimacing. She didn’t even try to look happy. “Ugh, I suppose. It’s a dangerous game, Rosalind. But we’re on your side.”
It was a dangerous game, but nowhere near as dangerous as the one Juliette was playing. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t the same. That Rosalind could be happy, that they didn’t all have to end in bloodshed.
“The three of you walk so slowly,” Lady Cai said when they finally caught up. Inside the temple, the daylight seemed muted, stopping outside the open doors like it didn’t have an invitation. Instead, the red of the shrines took on its own glow, casting the temple in a warm sheen.
“Merely taking in the parameters, Māma,” Juliette replied.
Lady Cai blew out a short breath like she didn’t believe her. “I see the client. Don’t go far, Juliette. Maybe—” Her mother waved her hand at the far wall, where a smattering of women knelt in front of symbolic deities. They would kētóu three times, foreheads briefly touching the floor mats, then plant their incense into the shrines. “Qù shāoxiāng ba?”
Juliette scoffed. “I think the ancestors might strike me down if I initiate any contact with them. I’ll just wait here. Kathleen and Rosalind can go if they want.”
Kathleen and Rosalind exchanged a glance. They both shrugged. As Lady Cai left to approach the client, Juliette’s two cousins found their own incense sticks and went back outside to light them, leaving Juliette to wander about the temple.
“Don’t be offended, ancestors,” Juliette murmured under her breath. “I’ll bring you a few extra oranges next time.” She cast a glance at her mother. The meeting seemed mundane: two women speaking to each other about matters designated as more delicate than their husbands could handle. The woman handed over a stack of papers. Lady Cai scanned through them. Juliette turned back to the shrines, chewing on her thoughts.
A Frenchman, a monster, a blackmailer. Communists, Nationalists, civil war.
A vaccine, ready to circulate.
She simply wasn’t working with enough information. All she had was conjecture. No names, no sources. And while she was supposed to be thinking about fixing the state of the city, she was thinking about Rosalind’s plight too, and how unfair it was that even after the blackmailer was gone, the city would always, always be divided.