Wang Xiaoliang took a phone call and became so pumped up that his hands moved twice as fast.
He sliced the cooked meats, arranged them on plates, and sealed them with plastic wrap. He minced scallions, ginger, and garlic and put them in bowls, then set the lamb chops on to boil. Several pots were going at once on the stove, the extractor fan hummed, and steam filled the kitchen.
He hummed a song, in an excellent mood.
The keypad lock sounded.
Beep-click. He was sensitive to that sound.
The door opened.
Wang Xiaoliang was caramelizing sugar, cooking it slowly over low heat. It had started bubbling, its color just deepening, and he couldn't step away now. A second too long and it would burn.
Who was it?
Was Mom back? No, had Qishan gone out and come back?
Couldn't worry about that now. The sugar was about to burn.
He tipped the meat into the wok. Oil splattered as he worked the spatula, coating every piece in caramel. In went dark soy sauce, light soy sauce, star anise, and cinnamon bark, sending up a burst of fragrance. He poured in boiling water, put the lid on, and turned down the heat.
Wang Xiaoliang wiped his hands and called toward the living room, "Qishan?"
No answer. That was normal enough.
He called again.
Still no answer.
Something was wrong.
Whoever had come in hadn't made a sound. No talking, no changing shoes, no footsteps.
The villa had good soundproofing, but however good it was, someone coming through the door would make some noise.
His heart tightened.
Wang Xiaoliang reached for the kitchen knife with his right hand, gripped it tight, and leaned halfway out of the kitchen.
The living room was empty.
The sofa was empty, and the fruit platter