Pavlovian Response - Chapter 2

Then I opened my fingers and let the bracelet fall.

“Pick it up.”

His eyes went pitch-black. At last, his calm facade cracked. He ran his tongue thoughtfully over his lips, rose from his chair, and slowly lowered himself in front of me to retrieve the bracelet.

He did not squat. Out of habit, he bent one knee and knelt before me.

I smiled in triumph and held out my hand.

Instead of returning the bracelet, he fastened it around my ankle.

Metal and gemstones grazed my skin with an intermittent chill. The heat of his fingers never strayed far, leaving my ankle itching and burning. I could almost feel the ridges of his fingertips.

“She never knew that when I bought this, I thought it would look prettier around her ankle. Like she would never be able to leave me.”

He looked up at me with startling sincerity.

“Thank you, Miss, for fulfilling that wish in her place.”

My heart lurched into a gallop. It had been a long time since I’d felt danger so clearly.

I looked down into those burning eyes and steadied my voice. “…I haven’t asked your name.”

He smiled, his voice already rough.

He pronounced each syllable distinctly.

“Shen Yu.”

Shen Yu.

In an instant, the name and the eyes before me aligned with a figure from my past.

It was hardly my fault I hadn’t recognized him. The man he had become looked nothing like the university student I remembered.

Shen Yu had studied computer science at A University. During the few short months I supported him, I had seen this expression only twice: when we first met, and when I ended our arrangement.

Most of the time, he had been far too inexperienced—a puppet for me to pose however I pleased.

When I pushed him too far, other expressions surfaced: eyes clouded with moisture, the skin beneath them flushed a vivid red. Humiliated, alive, and a little aggrieved.

That was why I had liked him well enough.

Men like Shen Yu were rare. He looked awkward and reticent, proud and aloof, yet in practice he had to grit his teeth and obey every demand I made.

I met him on the very day I returned from studying abroad. A friend had thrown me a welcome-home party. On our way there, we happened to pass A University, and she began talking about her new boyfriend.

“I’ve mentioned him before. Finance major at A University. Such an upright-looking college boy. But why do you think people like them work so hard to get here? To have what we have. He kept refusing me, saying we came from different worlds. I showed him my life for one day, and by the next morning he was telling me we could give it a try.”

She looked out the car window with a contemptuous laugh. Some students near the university gates couldn’t help staring at our passing car.

“He interests me now, but I’ve had his type before. I’ll get bored. Smart ones are such a pain to dump.”

I laughed and massaged my temples, still aching from jet lag.

“You think you sampled him and got bored. For all you know, he thinks of you as an ATM. I wouldn’t touch that sort if you paid me. The moment those bookworms open their mouths, I get a headache…”

The car braked sharply before I could finish.

I looked toward the road and saw Shen Yu standing beside the hood, his head lowered. His fringe hid part of his eyes, making him look unbearably gloomy. Gray sweatshirt, sweatpants, even his backpack worn properly over both shoulders.

What caught my attention first was his expression: a face burning with embarrassment, handsome eyes hidden behind his glasses when he looked up, their corners red enough to tempt anyone.

I followed his gaze to the man blocking our car, shouting and gesticulating. One hand clutched his head, the other his waist. He was babbling in a rural dialect I could barely understand.

“Miss,” the driver said carefully, watching my face. “I saw everything. We never touched him.”

A scammer.

One who had dragged his son along to help scam us.

“Bad luck. He saw an expensive car and decided to milk us?” My friend rolled her eyes and reached for her bag. “Watch me make him pay us two thousand instead.”

I stopped her. “Wait.”

Then I asked the driver, “What’s he saying?”

The driver listened. “He says he can’t afford the hospital and won’t move unless we make it right.”

Outside, Shen Yu stood stranded in the middle of the road, embarrassed and helpless, yet with his spine held rigid. He tugged at his father’s sleeve, trying to pull him away.

His father spat at him in disgust.

“Pay him,” I told the driver.

The driver blinked. “What?”

“Whatever he wants. Give it to him.” My eyes stayed on Shen Yu.

Our car swept away. Through the rearview mirror, I saw his father count off most of the stack of cash and try to press it into Shen Yu’s hand.

Shen Yu refused it and turned toward the university. Before he left, he looked in my direction with a face gone cold.

At last, I understood the lure of what my friend had called “another world.”