Chapter Twenty-Eight

If Beijing Could Talk

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS.

Special Disclaimer: Die-hard CCS fans will see I totally ripped off CLAMP in an upcoming scene. I thought you all would like that :)

When they arrived in Beijing, Sakura and her father got a yellow taxi with no trouble despite the large number of people who were waiting for one. What was more, the taxi driver spoke basic Japanese which was a nice touch even though her father was fluent in Mandarin and knew some Cantonese which he had taught to her as a child. Even the traffic was on their side, though that may have only seemed so because of the easy-going temperament of the driver. He readily offered up tourist sites he thought were worth seeing when Fujitaka had asked him, and he humorously told them about his own experiences at these sites.

Even with their two-hour late arrival, Sakura and Fujitaka found their hotel check-in to be a walk in the park. They had booked a standard twin room in a five-star hotel. Sakura had felt guilty, knowing that she could pay for their stay in a deluxe room – using a fair chunk of her savings – but having to keep quiet and accept her brother and Yukito's money to pay for the standard one. They had thought it was a good idea for her and her father - who was in a way Yukito's father too – to go on vacation together. The young doctors gladly helped sponsor their accommodation for the once-in-a-lifetime trip.

The room had contemporary Chinese décor, a deep limestone tub and heated flooring in the bathroom. She and her father explored the room, which appeared as pristine and luxurious in person as it did in the photos online. They had a minibar and 24-hour room service. However, they had decided beforehand that it would be cheaper and more culturally authentic to eat true local cuisine at the restaurants nearby rather than the more international and generic flavourings hotels tended to have.

Her father was a man who did not like to procrastinate, so rolled their carry-on suitcases to their bedroom, unpacked all their items and stowed them away neatly in their drawers. As a final touch, he placed a framed picture of her mother on the dining table.

"It's now after seven," said Fujitaka, looking at the clock on the living room wall. "Shall we have a quick shower and go out for dinner?"

"Hai!" Sakura grinned. "But you shower first, Otou-san. I have to decide what to wear."

He chuckled.

"Okay. But be sure to dress warmly. You felt how cold it was outside."

Sakura did not think it was as cold as Japan but she picked out a black leather pants, a striped sweater and a taupe-pink trench coat. Forty-five minutes later, she and her father headed out on the Beijing streets to find a restaurant that she had looked up online before they had left the hotel room.

It was a reasonably priced restaurant that was rated four stars for its roast duck. And though Sakura was not the biggest fan of duck, she wanted try new foods she did not normally have at home. Half an hour later, as she bit into her deliciously moist roast duck burger, she sighed in ecstasy.

"Sugoi!"

Fujitaka had ordered a baked pigeon dish with arugula salad and he nodded in agreement.

"This was a great choice," he told her, looking around at the almost full restaurant.

All manner of people dined there this evening – businessmen in suits, old couples, a young family and of course the flirtatious and single bachelors and bachelorettes, and other tourists whom Sakura believed to be American.

"I could eat this every day," she said, chowing down on some steaming hot fries as well.

She took another bite of the burger, the sweet and spicy sauces running down her chin.

"Perhaps you should slow down, Sakura-san."

She blushed as she dabbed her wet chin with a napkin. Being around her father had made her feel comfortable pigging out. Satomi would be horrified if she saw the way Sakura had abandoned her courtesan etiquette training. Sakura mentally giggled at the thought.

"Sorry," she mumbled, and she swallowed everything that was in her mouth with one gulp. "It's just so delicious!"

She attempted to eat with more reserve so that she would not embarrass her father. As they continued with their dinner, the topic of her parent's "honeymoon" came up. Fujitaka was laughing softly, his eyes crinkling deeply at the corners. In alarm, Sakura realised that he was ageing and her heart gave a pang of distress at that awareness. It would be a while before he could be considered as old but still… caught up in the drama of her own growing up she had failed to see that his life was passing away before her inattentive eyes.

"I have always regretted not being able to take her on a proper honeymoon," he was saying. "But she said she was glad to have had it in our new house. And she liked the fairy lights I hanged everywhere. It had taken me hours... but it was worth seeing her smile, especially since she was not expecting anything."

He took a sip of water. He usually drank water or tea. Only rarely did he drink anything else.

"I was embarrassed," he admitted, setting his glass down on the table. "Her grandfather who raised her was well off. I was an orphan. Poor. I still can't believe sometimes, that the most beautiful woman in the world loved me. And now, our daughter is the most beautiful woman."

Sakura blushed and averted her gaze.

"Otou-san..."

He smiled in that gentle way of his that made you want to be every positive thing he thought you were, and in your heart, you secretly wished you could be.

"But you are Sakura-san. Very beautiful. And I'm not just saying that because you're my daughter," he said, making her bow her head in embarrassment. "You have an incredible spirit."

When her blush died down, she looked up at him sheepishly.

"I'm sorry I can't remember Okaa-san."

"You don't have to be," said Fujitaka. "I never expected you to. But she got three years with you and she enjoyed every day of them."

She nodded.

"Otou-san, I've wondered sometimes… how come you've never remarried?" she asked. "From what you've told me of her, I don't think Okaa-san would mind. I think she would want you to have someone."

He heaved a sigh, looking towards a table to his right with where a middle-aged couple was dining.

"I thought about it when you were nine," he admitted. "I knew puberty was coming. It scared me. I knew a woman's presence would be valuable. I went out with two or three. But, Touya-san did not like it. He was in every sense, a mama's boy."

Sakura laughed but there was a sadness in her heart for her lonely father. Why could Touya not accept that his father may need someone to hold him at night? To love him in a way that they, his children, could not?

"In truth, I didn't want another wife," said Fujitaka, breaking her reverie. "I was too in love with my first and only. It would have been unfair to any woman to come into such a situation. To have to compete with a flawless memory."

Sakura idly picked at the remainder of her fries.

"Do you think she was your soulmate?"

"Yes," said Fujitaka, with a strength that could move mountains. "I was an unhappy person once. I hid my misery behind smiles much like you do."

Sakura gasped at her father's accurate assessment of her. She thought he would grill her on her 'misery' but he gave an understanding smile.

"Nadeshiko-san saw through my mask. I revealed parts of myself to her I never thought I would share with anyone. I knew it wrong to have a relationship with my student. To this day, I still believe that. I told her many times that we shouldn't be together for that reason. That it was inappropriate. I remember how her cousin Sonomi-san hated me for it. Hated me for sealing her best friend. But Nadeshiko-san had insisted in that tender and persistent way of hers, that I was the man for her. She loved me and I wanted to accept her love. And so, I did."

A wistful cloud had gathered over his eyes. Sakura choked up, feeling the suppressed emotions stirring up within her father, as acutely as though she were experiencing them herself. His heart was broken and she truly understood how deeply that pain cut.

Every time he spoke of her mother she would get new, wonderful titbits of information. She had never heard him mention a Sonomi before. Maybe her mother's cousin had been on his mind, lately? He blinked away the memories and smiled.

"Is great-grandfather still alive?" she questioned.

"Yes. He's doing well for his age."

Sakura leaned back in her chair.

"Maybe we should visit him one day," she said. "I would like to meet him."

"You already have."

"Hoeee?! When?"

"Remember that weekend we went out to the country when you were in elementary school? You played tennis with an elderly man?"

"Hai…" said Sakura, the memory coming back to her of an old, agreeable man with full beard and hair, both of which were completely grey. He had seemed ancient to her at the time but he moved with youthful vitality when they had played together.

"That was him," said Fujitaka.

"Hoe… Really?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "He sent presents for you and Touya. Remember those pretty dresses I gave to you some time after the trip?"

"The ones you never made me throw out?"

"They were from him," said Fujitaka. "They were your mother's."

Sakura frowned.

"Why didn't you say they were from him?"

"He didn't want you to know. He was a very stubborn man. He had renounced Nadeshiko-san when she married me. And I think, it was a combination of shame and regret… why he could not tell you who he was. Because you reminded him of her and he knew that he had hurt her dearly. He calls from time to time to check up on you. Next time, I'll have you speak to him."

Sakura stared, processing all this family drama she never knew about. Taking a deep breath, she gazed around the restaurant. Then something occurred to her.

"What about Sonomi-san?"

"We had spoken to each other around that same time, years ago. She has a daughter. She used to bring her around once in a while when Nadeshiko was alive. She was your favourite playmate. Last I heard, they were living in Tokyo and then Paris, I believe."

"I hope you make up properly with her one day. Before it's too late."

He nodded fervently.

"I hope so as well."

He looked at their near empty dishes.

"It's getting late," he said. "Let's pack up and return to the hotel. We have an early start tomorrow."

On the car ride, back to the hotel, Sakura started to feel a hint of queasiness at the back of her throat. By the time they arrived in their room, her stomach was aching.

"I think I ate too fast," she said as her father helped her remove her coat.

"The fries did look very greasy," said Fujitaka, concerned.

"I hope this passes by tomorrow."

"Don't worry about that," he said. "You arranged the presentation perfectly. I can manage on my own. You just focus on getting well, okay."

"Okay…" she said weakly, as he lay her down on her bed. "I'll be better in now time."

But Sakura vomited three times that night and Fujitaka had insisted, as he tucked her in, that she remain at the apartment the following day. After he had turned the lights out, she wildly wondered, heart pounding, if she was pregnant but then she giggled against her pillow. She had been having her period regularly since last year. Why had she even thought of such a thing?


"…you can see, the University has used your generous endowment wisely. The new Li Zihao Opera House is in my humble opinion, the most innovative and well-designed amphitheatre on any campus in Beijing…"

Syaoran gave a nod of approval as he looked out at the crimson seats surrounding him on three sides, all of which were in clear view of the grand, polished stage on which he stood. He and his assistant Ming, were being escorted through the newest addition to the university campus, by the vice-chancellor and other university officials. Ming had encouraged him to allow one of the university's photographers to accompany them.

Though the Li Zihao Opera House was constructed with modern materials, the amphitheatre was designed in a traditional style that suited the more dramatic and artistic flair of opera. A grand crystal and gold chandelier hung from the gilded ceiling, and the magnificent, scarlet stage drapes, trimmed with gold, hung majestically from their rods.

His father had loved the grating voices of the singers for some odd reason, so when he had heard from one of his cousins that the university was raising funds to build another opera house three years ago, he had contacted them. He had offered to give them the funds they needed if they named it after his father. And though his father had spent only one semester at this particular university, he had been quite involved in the opera club and his favourite opera singer had graduated from institution and so, it seemed fitting.

"There is a lot of activity on campus today," he commented, as they all went outside and met throngs of people walking about, pamphlets and university paraphernalia in their hands and on their persons.

"We have a weeklong academic convention," said the vice-chancellor. "We have a fair number of international guest speakers coming in to present the results of their latest research projects and also, to inform of new discoveries in their respective fields."

"We have some time to look in at a few if you wish, Sir," said Ming, checking his schedule on her tablet.

The vice-chancellor and his officials lead them to various auditoriums, the photographer – to Syaoran's liking – snapping pictures of them discretely. Most of the talks were being filmed and Syaoran made a mental note to request some of the footage. University were solid areas to find pioneering thoughts and ideas, particularly when it came to technological and biological advances that he could invest in.

"Today we have one of the best archaeologists in Asia speaking," said the vice-chancellor, as they came upon an older auditorium. "He came very highly recommended by Tokyo University, though he lectures at a much smaller university in Japan."

"Japan," mused Syaoran, the name of the country making the hairs on his arms raise. "I would like to attend this lecture."

The chancellor checked the time on his watch.

"He should be concluding in twenty-five minutes."

"Then we should enter as soon as possible."

"Right."

The vice-chancellor ushered him and Ming into the auditorium from the back entrance, the other officials opting to meet up with them again in the vice-chancellor's office.

Syaoran's eyes took a few minutes to adjust to the darkness of the auditorium, illuminated at present, by primarily the large, projector screen. There were vacant seats scattered about the auditorium and he heard the vice-chancellor say something about getting some of the students to move, but Syaoran found it unnecessary. He gestured at a free seat to Ming in the middle of the auditorium and then two empty seats a couple rows behind it. He went over to the single seat leaving Ming with the dithering vice-chancellor.

The speaker's voice drifted out with perfect clarity into the quiet room.

"…building dates back to around 3500 years and was constructed near the tomb of pharaoh…"

The rows were wide so Syaoran got to his seat with little disturbance to the students. The seats were ascending so he had a clear view of the massive screen. Egyptian artefacts were displayed on it in vivid colour and sharpness. The PowerPoint presentation had just enough text, pictures and white space – it was a pet peeve of Syaoran's whenever presentation slides were too convoluted. The speaker had even brought piece of some rock artefact to show them all, along with some small trinkets.

"…at this time, one of the greatest mysteries has to be the Great Pyramid at Giza. Using various scanning technologies, it has been found, that there may be two hidden chambers within the pyramid, here and here. So naturally, we ask ourselves why were they built? To flee? Punish? For storage, perhaps? The Egyptians were a complex, multifaceted people with…"

Syaoran felt himself leaning forward in his seat, as the man effortlessly weaved a story of ancient Egyptian life that was both informative and fascinating. History class had been one he liked in high school and this man, with his passion and dexterity of language, made Syaoran want to study it again. Maybe he could help fund a research project, because right then he really wanted to know what secrets the pyramid held. And the various myths and legends he had recalled from his high school reading came rushing back to him.

He checked his Rolex when the speaker said, "It seems our time is up. I would have liked to entertain questions but unfortunately time has gotten away from us. Thank you all for being so attentive."

The lights slowly grew brighter in the dim auditorium. A round of polite applause ensued but Syaoran rose to his feet, clapping with vigour, his focus resting solely on the brown-haired speaker who he could see clearly now. He had forgotten all about his love of privacy and not drawing attention to himself as he watched the man, who's pleasant face matched his patient voice. He caught Syaoran's eyes - since he was the only one standing - and smiled in thanks before turning his gaze down to his laptop.

Some students who recognized Syaoran stared in amazement and surreptitiously took a picture of him with their phones. But he was oblivious to it all. Ming approached him but he walked past her and straight to the man. A student was asking a question and the man was listening closely.

"Sir," Ming said, catching up to him. "We have to leave. You have an appointment with -"

"When I'm done Ming," he said curtly, wishing to have an audience with the speaker though he was unsure of what he wanted to say or talk about.

He would have pushed forward, ahead of someone, but he knew that the only question he had thought of was so ridiculous and childish, he waited for the students to take their turns and leave before he could ask it. He did not realise that the vice-chancellor had to usher students out with the help of the real ushers as word was spreading that handsome billionaire, Li Xiao Lang was in Peking University.

"You have a question for me?" the lecturer smiled, stowing his laptop in its case when Syaoran was the only one with a question left.

"Hai," he said, slipping into Japanese.

The man adjusted his thin-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose and stared with new interest at him.

"Is…" And Syaoran flushed from the lecturer's attention, though he was not sure why. The man looked familiar, now that he thought about it. "Is there any truth to the curses of the pharaoh's tombs?"

The lecturer smiled. Not in a mocking way, but in a manner that let Syaoran know he had been asked the same question many times before.

"That is difficult to answer…"

"But you said there were secret passages… and various inscriptions of vengeance and doom carved into the pyramid walls… and isn't it true that many plunderers died horrible deaths after they had visited the tombs?"

"Well you must remember, not all pyramids are tombs. Many pyramids were built for status and glory. Many pharaohs wished to leave an enduring legacy as many rulers do."

"I see."

"But then, there are many sarcophagi in some pyramids…"

Syaoran folded his arms and pinched the tip of his chin.

"Then what is the real reason for them building the pyramids? What is their primary function and purpose?"

The lecturer looked him over, a paternal quality to his unassuming gaze.

"You seem quite interested in ancient Egypt."

Syaoran's cheeks grew hot. What was wrong with him today? Why was this man having such a peculiar effect on him?

"Hai," he answered, his vocabulary bank of highfalutin words diminishing rapidly. "It is… interesting."

The lecturer smiled kindly, as he zipped up his laptop bag.

"If we were in Japan I would have invited you to the university where I lecture. I have collected many interesting artefacts there and we would have had more time to talk and have your questions answered."

Syaoran nodded. Japan was not someplace he could easily go right now. Meilin was watching him like a hawk and checking in with his pilots, he had heard, from their very mouths no less.

"If you are ever in Japan you can contact me. I will be happy to chat with you. But it may be more practical to email."

"You would take the time?" asked Syaoran, in awe that his juvenile question would have this phenomenal outcome.

"Yes," said the lecturer, with unbelievably warm genuineness.

Syaoran felt compelled to repay the favour.

"Have you ever been to the Forbidden City, sensei?" he asked. "Or Tiananmen Square?"

"No," said the lecturer, stowing away the rock and trinkets he had brought, and zipping up the bags they were in. "But I'll be here for a week and they are on my list of places to visit."

"I wonder," said Syaoran, feeling flustered for the umpteenth time whenever the man smiled at him. He was sure he had seen him somewhere before. "Would you allow me to arrange a private tour for you? I can contact a guide of your academic level who will explain things to you that may not interest laypersons but would be of great interest to you."

The lecturer tilted his head.

"That must be costly. I certainly cannot inconvenience you so."

The vice-chancellor, who like Ming, had been silently watching the exchange, promptly intervened much to Syaoran's annoyance.

"Li Xiao Lang is one of the university's best patrons. I'm sure it would be no inconvenience at all."

Still, his words seemed to make the lecturer warm up to the idea.

But, "It's too much," he said, shaking his head.

"I insist," said Syaoran, earnestly. "I haven't enjoyed a speech – if I can call it that – so much in years. I would be greatly honoured if you would allow me to show you a piece of my nation's history."

Hong Kongese were often stereotyped as not wanting to be referred to as Chinese, but Syaoran felt that when it came to certain monuments, that history belonged to them all. After much mental deliberation, the speaker finally inclined his head in acceptance.

"Then I accept your offer."

"Ming will take your information and schedule a date suitable to you. I would like to reiterate once more how much I enjoyed your seminar even though I only saw the last 20 minutes."

"Thank you," said the lecturer. "It makes me proud that my life's work can appeal to everyone and not only academics like myself."

The vice-chancellor beamed at Syaoran.

"Professor Kinomoto is as great as they said in Tokyo," he said, smugly.

Syaoran, who was mentally preparing to leave, after he found a way to get the man's name without sounding like a stalker, felt his heart ram into his chest cavity.

"Excuse me," said Ming, her stylus poised over her tablet. "May I have your full name, sir?"

The lecturer looked at her.

"Kinomoto Fujitaka."

Syaoran's breath hitched. Fujitaka. Did she ever mention her father's name? No. Occupation? Yes. That one time. She said he taught archaeology. At a university. But he must be losing it. What were the odds? This could not be…

Fujitaka's eyes went wide.

"Forgive me, Li-san," he said. "But I came on this trip with my daughter. Would you mind if she visited with me? I admit, I would be reluctant to go otherwise."

The room swam before Syaoran in a haze of blindingly vibrant colours, leaving him mentally off-balanced.

Relax, Xiao Lang. Get a damn grip. He couldn't be…

"What is your daughter's name?" Ming asked, knowing that it would not be a problem to add her to the tour.

You just want it to be...

"Kinomoto Sakura."

Syaoran did not know whether to laugh, gasp, shout, cry – not that he did that sort of thing. His lips moved before his desperate, obsessing brain caught up to what was happening and the significance of it all.

"Kinomoto-sensei," he said, throat dry. "Forgive my intrusion, but would you mind if I joined you for your visit to the Forbidden City? We would be able to discuss the history. And I would like to hear your professional opinions on it."

Fujitaka nodded slowly.

"I don't think my daughter will mind."

Syaoran smiled and saw Ming do a double-take, her jaw loose in shock.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll be in touch then."

He left Ming to finish taking Fujitaka's particulars because he knew that if he remained he would be grinning like a fool. As he stood outside the auditorium doors and glared at a girl who was sneakily trying to take a selfie with him from several feet away, he wondered, why had Sakura not told him she would be in Beijing? How long had she been there? Was she avoiding him?

He turned so that his face was not in the girl's picture and he froze on the spot.

Wait.

He had just met Sakura's father.

Her Father.

Fuck.

He looked down at his clothes. If Syaoran had known he would be meeting him, he would have worn his pinstriped Valentino business suit and maybe his black Salvatore Ferragamo oxfords. He would have to confirm with Ming if they went together to be sure, but they were two of his preferred items. Did Kinomoto-sensei think he was too severe in his plain Chinese suit? He had not even brought a bottle of Pinot Noir for the man. Domaine de la Romanee-Conti 1990 would have been a safe choice. And it was only about twenty thousand dollars.

Blood rushed to Syaoran's head.

He must think I'm a cheapskate.

He massaged his temple, the grey-white shine of his platinum wedding band winking at him. Reality hit Syaoran in the head like a tonne of bricks. What the hell was he thinking?

He had not known he would be meeting her father today.

And even if he had, why would he need to make a fuss about it? He glared down the university hallway. Sometimes, he really confused himself.


Sakura was watching television when her father walked into the apartment with take-out. Feeling much better, and her empty stomach grumbling at the delectably salty aroma, she jumped to her feet and met him in the kitchen.

"How was your lecture?" she asked, at once.

Fujitaka chuckled.

"It went well," he said. "It went a bit longer than I wanted it to but it turned out as best as it could have."

She sighed in relief.

"I'm glad. I will make sure and be there for you next time."

"I know you will," he said, opening the bag of take-out on the kitchen counter.

"I brought soup from a Japanese diner," he said. "I didn't know if the change of cuisine was what made you sick. I thought it best not to chance Chinese again, so soon."

"Thank you, Otou-san," she said, softly, enjoying the feeling of being taken care of. Ever since she had started courtesan work, she had been required to put others' needs and wants first for a long time. "I drank water and tea whole day today because I was too scared to order anything else. But I'll try some of this!"

He went to the shower and she spooned out some soup for herself. As she ate, Fujitaka walked back out, the caramel scent of the hotel soap staining his skin.

"Let's stay in this evening," he said. "Make sure you are completely rested."

She pouted.

"I'm already ruining our vacation."

"No no. We'll be fine," he assured. "Oh! Did I tell you that I was offered a private tour today of the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square? And that you're coming too?"

Sakura stared.

"Wow Otou-san," she said, in amazement. "Is this a present from Peking?"

"No," he said. "It is courtesy of one of the attendees. He enjoyed my lecture so much he invited me. He truly surprised me today. And I felt encouraged because of him."

"What do you mean?" asked Sakura.

Fujitaka sat up straighter than he normally did, and declared, "He gave me a standing ovation."

Sakura laughed. Her father looked so pleased with himself.

"He really liked you then."

"It was interesting," said Fujitaka, mixing the contents of his soup around with his chopsticks. "He carried himself in the most dignified, mature manner - despite his obvious youth. But when we spoke about Egypt, he had a very innocent, childlike quality to him. He blushed at everything I said. I must admit I found it endearing."

Sakura nodded as she ate her noodles.

"What's his name?"

"His name…"

Fujitaka tilted his head in thought. Sakura was not worried. Her father was excellent at recalling names and faces. He would only need a few seconds to remember.

"Li Xiao Lang."

Sakura choked on the noodle she was slurping into her mouth. Hard coughs racked her body as she tried to dislodge it from the back of her throat. Fujitaka made to go to her but she held up her hand, eyes watering.

"Are you alright?" he asked when she successfully swallowed and gasped for air.

"H-hai…" she sighed, taking a sip of water from her glass.

Fujitaka sank back to his chair and Sakura cleared her throat, feeling as though an elephant was sitting upon her chest. She must have heard wrong. Her unconscious had probably been thinking of him. But to be sure...

"Um… did you say Li Xiao Lang?" she asked as casually as possible.

"Yes," confirmed Fujitaka. "Have you heard of him?"

Sakura tried to make her face as blank as she could, even as memories of Syaoran's warm, wet tongue on her lady parts catapulted to the forefront of her mind.

"Why would I have heard of him?"

"A lot of the female students seem to have heard of him," Fujitaka commented, with an uncharacteristic slyness.

Sakura flushed.

"I may have seen him on television…. Yeah... I did. He's this billionaire who got married to a famous socialite last year."

"Oh yes," said Fujjitaka, recollecting some detail. "He was wearing a wedding band. Well, he's a very nice, young man. You'll get to meet him when we visit the Forbidden City."

"NANI?!"

Was he serious? Was this some practical joke?

Fujitaka's hand had paused half-way to his mouth, noodles slipping out his chopsticks.

Sakura cleared her throat again, composing herself.

"I mean… I thought this vacation was just you and I, Otou-san."

He frowned.

"I didn't think you would mind. It was a generous offer he made so I could hardly refuse him. But I promise you that he is nice. You will like him."

Sakura nodded. 'Like' was a big understatement. But Sakura found it odd that her father thought so highly of Syaoran after having met him for the first time, when she had experienced the polar opposite reaction when she had first met the businessman. He must have been having a very good day to have behaved so nicely.

"You're right," she told her father. "I don't really mind. And it would have been ungrateful to decline his request. I don't know what came over me."

Later that night, Sakura slinked into the bathroom while her father was sound asleep. She sat on the edge of the soaker tub, clutching her phone in one hand and Syaoran's business card in the other. She slowly punched in the number on the card, not completely sure why she was even doing so. Her finger hovered over the call icon. It was very late. Syaoran usually went to bed at 10 o'clock, right? She hunched over, deciding on her next move.

He did not know her number. If he did not answer she would not feel humiliated. If he called back, she did not need to pick up. Her indignation was slightly outweighing her fear, however.

Her father must have mentioned her earlier. Syaoran must know that it was she who he was going to meet at the Forbidden City. Why would he do this? Why would he bring her blameless father into their mess? It did not feel right to her, to have him played for a fool like this.

Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she touched the call icon and placed the receiver to her ear. Her heart was thumping against her chest so hard, it felt like it could break her ribs. All the while, the phone rang. And rang. And rang some more. Her toes flexed along the warm floor. Should she hang up? Maybe that was best. Maybe she was lucky he did not answer – it had given her time to rethink.

It would go to voicemail soon.

Just as she was certain of that fact, the ringing cut off and the line opened up.


A/N

Hey Tomodachi,

Sorry for the cliff-hanger! But I have a lot of assignments due next week. This chapter was clearly longer but I post this here because I did not want to leave you all waiting much longer. I will *try* to double post next time. Sorry for typos. I will correct any in a few hours.

Nani? - What?

Thank you to all you wonderful reviewers and favouriters and followers ^_^

Chunnea - They will indeed meet in Beijing as you can probably guess by now

Guest - it's updated! No updates for at least a week though because I have tonnes of assignments due for school. sry. :(

Bee Emey - I agree with you. One of the reasons Syaoran is a billionaire here is simply because I wanted to write a super rich person in a non-cheesy way... as I have seen it done before... by professionals... lol ;) Characters will develop and regress. Don't be mad (at me) when they do...

ytamano - it's hard for me to write Syaoran's part lol. But also, I think many can relate to doing things they may not like (studies, jobs, relationships) because of familial pressure. I think teacher will suit Sakura too but nothing's written until its written.

Maru - The title of this fic is based on the song Linger by The Cranberries. It can fit Meilin and Sakura, and the chorus fits Syaoran's feelings for Sakura... especially halfway through this fic. Holiday's song is nice too though. LOL I thought the same thing about the City. But of course, they must visit it together with feelings of nostalgia! Uncle Chao is ugh. Agreed. But other than Wei, I think he has been prominent in Syaoran's life so he has his almost absolute respect despite disagreements.

nana - I'm happy you can de-stress with this fic which makes me feel bad about the cliff-hanger :( I love hot chocolate! So jealous...

Mao - You won that bet. Syaoran is the first to break. I've always thought that while Sakura is more sensitive and emotional, she is the stronger of the two - even in the manga/anime. I think you are right. He does need Sakura more than she needs him. But she does not realise that because of his tough guy mask lol. Maybe that is why he becomes easily jealous.

kiniro-cat - I'm glad you can get some joy out of this story. Sorry for the cliff-hanger. I hate them as much as anyone. I hope you do well in your school. Don't give up. And thank you. Good luck to you too.

Reader - it is sad but feelings tend to linger...

Farala - Yup I heard them! lol And that was some gentle scolding you gave me to return to this story and leave APCTFCity alone. lol.

Arise and Awaken - Encounter: Accomplished. You're welcome! lol. P.S I have always liked your username... something very hopeful about it...

Guest - Thank you for your review! ^_^

cherryblossom321 - Thank you for reviewing! ^_^

Cielli - I'm looking forward to "jealous Syaoran" too. But be warned. There are 2 types of jealous Syaoran. Cute jealous and Jerk jealous.

mszapata13 - I may use that guy for more than jealously later on but lets see how things go. Hope you enjoyed the chapter ms ^_^!

Friends Fan - lol. I would like the drama but I feel so bad to do that to Meilin. It's bad enough Syaoran slept with Sakura and is still thinking of her. Plus, since he hardly ever called her by name and he can be very controlled, he may not slip as readily as someone else. But... you never know... he may refer to Sakura to her sometime, but not in bed... it's just so harsh. :( but i hope you enjoyed this chapter ^_^ lol

Ai Star - Smirk. They will meet next chapter. Now I'm thinking where could Sakura possibly go to run into Meilin...hmm...

b2utifulshawol - Don't worry about it ^_^ It can happen to anyone. Sometimes I'm so tired I have to reread a simple sentence several to understand it lol. If you see typos, forgive me. I will edit again in a few hours. I don't he will sort it out completely as you would like... otherwise he would divorce and the story will be over hehehe. Thank you for your review.

Until Next time, Ja ne ^_^