3. Steak And Cream 3

In the morning, the fully expected hangover ruthlessly attacks so she sleeps in.

When she finally crawls out of bed, she spends a little time puttering around and trying to reframe her dinner with Ben. Why he would flirt so blatantly with her over such serious matters? Why flirt with her at all, when his preferences are so clear? Was it a test? Did she pass? What did he tell Luo Fei about their dinner, or did he not tell him at all?

Her headache wins out over her curiosity, though. As she sits wretchedly in her chair sipping tea and trying not to move any part of her body at all ever again, she’s fully awake to hear loud, angry voices and the resulting crashing of glass and, probably, furniture from Luo Fei’s apartment. She’s still in her pajamas so she wavers on going out to make sure no one is hurt when she hears the door open then slam shut. She can tell by the sound of the long strides down the hallway that it’s Ben leaving, and fast.

So. He probably did tell Luo Fei about their dinner.

She takes a deep breath. The relationship between the two men is not her business. Luo Fei, at least, clearly wants to keep things off the table for discussion, and Xiaoman is damn well going to respect his wishes.

And that, as they say, is that.

For over a week.

There are no peculiar cases that need Luo Fei’s attention, so Xiaoman is put on regular duty. Murder, theft, and skullduggery happen as usual but nothing remarkable or unsolvable arises to peak anyone’s interest. Xiaoman goes through the motions of taking statements, comforting victims, arresting villains, and doing far more paperwork than mankind was ever meant to do.

If Luo Fei is even alive in his apartment, she wouldn’t know. He’s either not leaving and having groceries delivered or he’s sneaking around like a cat burglar in order to evade her. She had thought they were, at least, beyond that but she’s not going to confront him about it. He’s a grown man, and she’s not his sister or his mother or his wife.

Aside from her broken heart, which she keeps tenderly tucked out of the way in a corner of her soul, she finds the worst part of it all is that she is unbearably lonely .

She came to the city on her own, and while she enjoys correspondance with her family and school friends back home, she doesn’t have anyone to pal around with anymore. She’s surprised to realize how much of that companionable role Luo Fei filled in her life, but then, perhaps she shouldn’t be.

Work mates are no solution. She is one of the very few female police officers and the only one who is a detective, and like it or not (she doesn’t) there is a rift there between her and all the men she works with. Some try to view her as an equal, they genuinely do, but such progressive ideas only move so fast through society. Doing anything social with her colleagues would put her in a very awkward position, and even risk besmirching her reputation.

Except.

Except, possibly, for Ben Jie Ming.

She looks at her boxed lunch and thinks long and hard about how desperate for company she really is, then packs it up and heads for the morgue. If her instructors at the academy could see her now, they would be laughing themselves sick.

Stomping down the stairs so that her foot falls echo loudly to announce her arrival, she finds Ben sitting at his desk, hunched over paperwork but looking up at her.

“Is there a case?” He asks politely, his tone neutral.

It occurs to her that’s she has really mucked this up. He was the one who made the initial overture of friendship over dinner, letting her in on the secrets of his life, but she has let it languish. It does not reflect well on her and only reinforces her resolve.

She drags a stool over to the other side of the desk and sits down, firmly setting her lunch on top of some of his paperwork. “Lunch time.”

He stares at her, motionless, for a long time. “You hate the morgue.”

“Apparently, I hate eating alone more.” She gives him a haughty sniff and starts to open her carrier.

He leans back in his chair, pauses, then reaches to pull out his own lunch from a drawer. “Luo Fei is not talking to me either,” he offers as he sets out his far prettier food selections.

She slams down her chopsticks. “Why not?”

He startles and straightens up. “Why do you think?”

“Because we had dinner?” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “Is he really the jealous type? It’s clear he loves you. Do I need to beat him up?”

He smiles broadly at that, but returns to arranging his food. He is very fussy, she thinks as she stuffs rice in her mouth. But he’s so elegant about it, so precise and careful, that she can’t help but watch.

“No one else sees us as clearly as you do.”

She shrugs. “I’m a detective. When I’m not blinded by my own assumptions, I see a lot.”

“Your intelligence is bright and arresting. It’s why Luo Fei enjoys working with you so much.”

She swallows heavily. She knows he does not understand the pain his words cause, and she will make sure he never does. “As he should!” She responds instead with a grin. “He’s being foolish, so my offer to beat him up stands.”

He huffs at her but she notices that doesn’t say no to her offer, which makes her inexplicably happy.

They eat together every day, and some of her fellow officers tease her about it but not harshly or with mean spirits. It is somehow known that it is not courtship in either direction. Perhaps Ben’s inclinations are not as well hidden from his colleagues as he thinks, but she’s not aiming to find out. That is a pot best not stirred.

The first time she came down while he was still working over a body, she almost ran out. But he is her friend, now, and she is not leaving him to eat lunch alone no matter how foul the place smells.

He waves a hand at her. “I’ll skip today, as this will take a while.”

“Interesting?”

“No, just complicated. There was a lot of decay set in by the time the body was found.”

That much she figured out for herself. “Don’t think I’m hungry now, anyway. Tomorrow? Hopefully the odor will have dissipated by then. I don’t know how you stand it.” Her voice is whiny because at this point she’s succumbed to pinching her nose, although breathing through her mouth is almost worse.

Instead of answering he steps away from his work and removes his gloves. He holds up one finger to get her to wait, then walks over with a small jar, opening it up. He smears a lump of ointment on one finger then grabs her face with his other hand, his long fingers wrapping easily under her chin and jaw to hold her still. The heat from his touch seeps into her skin and something hot rushes up her spine. She looks up at him but he’s focused on her lips, and her heart rate spikes again.

The finger drags over the skin under her nose, leaving ointment in its wake. The sharp smell cancels out the rot of the corpse and makes her brain fizz like a soda. Her eyes tear up and she blinks, unbalanced, then reaches out to grab Ben’s jacket to steady herself. He stops and finally looks her in the eyes. She feels pinned to the floor by his gaze, but every time she breathes in, the smell of ointment rattles her again.

She can’t move, even if she wanted to.

They stare at each other for a long time, a frozen tableau of...she doesn’t know what. Longing? Kindness? Understanding?

Before letting go of her face, he bends down and rubs his nose across the tip of her nose. He spins around, breaking out of her hold, and walks away as if nothing happened.

“It’s my own special recipe. Helps cut through the odors.” He puts the jar away, his back still to her. Is his hand shaking? She can’t tell, and part of her doesn’t want to know. “Lunch tomorrow, then?”

“Yes.” She squeaks out the word and flees.