hong kong—an international hub consisting of everything lee yeonju has ever hated in men. that’s not to say the nauseating (handsy) selected few she spent the last couple of hours with represented an entire island of people. but given the fact that she had been dry (note: clean veins and clear eyes) since she arrived, yeonju has been considerably cranky. fidgety.
a picturesque example of someone en route to being completely unhinged—all wrapped in a pretty little package. in this case, whatever occasion fitting dress she could pull out of the closet last minute.
if she’s honest, yeonju hasn’t been out of her mother country in her life. never found any particular need to travel, not when paradise exists at home, pills tucked under her tongue. hong kong, had it not been standing between her and her high, would’ve been the ideal place to see.
“so,” she starts, words slightly slurred. her mind remains clear despite this, yeonju learned early on that a clumsy tongue coupled with a pretty face is what lowers the guards of others. and she can play the role perfectly (though, she would not lie, she would have preferred to be actually drunk). “you never told me what you promised haejin unnie in exchange.” for her.
not that liying has to clarify. as if yeonju could even doubt for a second the sort of sadism that seizes choi haejin.
“it’s gotta be something good…” she moves as she speaks, hiking up her dress to retrieve the weapon strapped to her upper thigh. “not that i know what you wanted me for to begin with,” her nose scrunches, painted lips stretched into a lopsided smile when their eyes meet, apples of her cheek rising. her tone is entirely playful, perhaps a little bit too much—considering her partner and all not that she cared. “if it’s schmoozing, i’m sure you could tell from just now or all night tonight that i’m not the best at it.”
the late morning was spent discussing important relations-related topics in a private room during yum cha. the afternoon spent sightseeing places yuripa’s envoy has seen more often than the clearview hotel. despite how frequently she visits, she still finds the urge to roll her eyes at the triad leader’s shorts difficult to overcome. her insults masked as jokes are returned with nervous laughter from the other members, though the boss doesn’t seem to mind.
precisely why maintaining friendly relations is so important.
“i promised her that i’d bring you back alive, which could’ve been a challenge.” liying sits on the bed, leaning down to take off her heels. the evening was spent at the usual lavish bar they frequented whenever she came to hong kong. she glances up to give yeonju a pointed stare, albeit a somewhat harmless one. “don’t think i didn’t hear your little comments. you should be thankful he doesn’t understand korean.” her lips form a small smirk as her fingers form a gun and she pretends to shoot the bodyguard.
“otherwise, my promise to haejin would’ve been broken — oh, she also wanted you to abstain a little.”
the smirk turns into an amused grin. she knows just how much yeonju’s addictions bother her friend. hell, even she would doubt the girl’s skills as a bodyguard when she’s high at least ninety percent of the time. but that’s not why she brought yeonju with her. she has other means of protection for these trips.
a knock on the door interrupts her before she can even say anything. she raises a brow at yeonju, getting up ( now five inches shorter ) to answer it. “can i help you?” the triad boss’ right hand man stands outside, a few other members behind him. she plasters on a sweet smile, easily switching back to cantonese. “sorry to bother you, ms zhang, but one of my guys said that your girl has something of his and you know how the boss is about these things.”
“one moment.” she nearly lets out a sigh, turning around to face yeonju, now speaking korean. back facing the men, her smile drops. “you stole drugs from them, didn’t you?”
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