Chapter Text
“Li Qian, I’m glad you called. That is, I hope nothing’s wrong.” Down the phone line, Professor Shen sounded just the same as ever. She’d missed him terribly.
It was the first time they’d spoken since everything had gone to hell. Since Li Qian’s grandmother had died, and Li Qian had dropped out of university. Since she’d helped Professor Ouyang develop the serum. Since a Dixingren invasion had killed forty-seven people and reduced parts of the city to rubble. Since the whole world had been shown a livestream of Chief Zhao being tortured, and since, with Changcheng as the lamp wick, the Hallows had come together to imprison his torturer, Ye Zun, before Changcheng broke free.
Since Professor Shen had revealed his true nature as the terrifying Black-Cloaked Envoy, brother of Ye Zun, defender of peace, and had joined Chief Zhao in publicly advocating for “ordinary” Dixingren’s rights.
Since Professor Ouyang had died, and Li Qian had been promoted in his place.
Dragon City was shocked and grieving. There were outbursts of violence and strident calls to send away anyone with Dixing heritage, powered or not, no matter how long they’d lived here. They’re dangerous, people said. No special powers in Haixing! But with the current technology, Dixingren couldn’t be identified and located, and some might not even know their family lines. And because of the serum experiments, there were humans with powers now, too.
It was Li Qian’s job to decide what direction the lab would take. Minister Guo had told her to bring him a research proposal, and she’d spent the last two weeks reviewing Professor Ouyang’s previous research projects, sitting in on Inspectorate policy meetings, turning over possibilities, reading the newspaper, and trying to keep the long-clawed shadow monster that had murdered Lu Ruomei out of her thoughts.
She trusted Professor Shen and Chief Zhao. She believed them when they said most Dixingren were ordinary people, or even heroes like the SID’s Chu Shuzhi and Professor Shen himself. But when she thought of Dixingren in the abstract, she couldn’t control her flinch. And so, after three hours of steeling herself to make the call, she’d come to the Research Institute Director’s office—her office—and dialled the one person she knew could help her.
“Professor Shen, I need to talk to you. Can I buy you a meal? Do you have time?”
“I have time. But why don’t you come over, and I’ll cook.”
An unwelcome knot lodged in her throat. “That would be lovely.”
“Ah, I should ask. Is this a private matter, or will it be all right if Zhao Yunlan is also present?”
“Oh, that would be fine.” Li Qian hated the insidious relief that made it easy to swallow again. Human or Dixingren, Professor Shen had been her teacher and advisor. She could have met him one-on-one anywhere. But the Black-Cloaked Envoy had borne down from the sky in a thunderclap that day, and she didn’t know how to reconcile the two. Anyway, Chief Zhao’s perspective was relevant to her dilemma. Both of her dilemmas—the direction of the lab’s research and her personal stumbling blocks. “That would be helpful, actually.”
“Good. Are you free tomorrow evening?”
They arranged a time, and Professor Shen gave her the address. Li Qian ended the call and belatedly realised she’d twisted a strand of hair around her finger so tightly that the fingertip had gone white.
It was dark energy that bothered her, wasn’t it, not Dixingren themselves? Actually, any energy power was dangerous: just look what the serum had done to Professor Ouyang. But while caution had its place, it was a very small step from there to fear and bigotry, and if she took that step, she’d end up like Professor Ouyang. More data will help. Then I’ll know the shadow monster and Ye Zun were outliers among Dixingren, just like Professor Ouyang was among humans.
If anyone could provide that data, it was Professor Shen.